OMG, you guys. I actually published a “part 2” to a post that I labeled “Part 1”. I think that’s the first time that’s ever happened. Is there a medal for this, or some sort of ribbon? If so, please mail one to me. Unless it’s that bullshit white participant ribbon. No one wants that ribbon. Unless you buy it yourself and wear it ironically. Then it’s kind of awesome. Or desperate. One of those.
So where was I? We’d just landed in Japan and luckily I was still using my journal at the time because I’ve already drank most of these conversations away. Victor says I just made them up but I didn’t because I even wrote “THIS IS ALL TRUE” with giant arrows in my journal because I knew he’d try that later. Plus? I have pictures. Victor is unsupportive and not to be trusted. Almost all of this is straight from my journal:
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We just checked into our hotel in Tokyo. It smells like fish in our room but there are no fish here. Also, the toilet is frightening me. There are 6 buttons on the toilet and two handles. Victor told me I could figure it out and he’s all swaggery because he’s been to Japan before and knows how to work the toilet. It’s not really something to be proud of, Victor. It’s not like you can put it on your resume. Whatever. I’ll just hold it.
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Victor seems to think I’m not going to be able to not use the bathroom all week. He’s probably right. I’ll just pee in the shower.
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Victor says I’m not allowed to pee in the shower so he’s not going to let me go to sleep until I “figure out the toilet”. Great. Now I have test-taking anxiety. And now he’s yelling at me and pounding on the bathroom door. I explained that I was busy writing all this down and taking pictures of the toilet. He just made this exasperated huff like he can’t even believe I brought my camera in the bathroom to take pictures of the toilet. It’s like he’s never even met me.
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This is where I had originally written a whole toilet saga but it’s too damn big so instead I’m going to cut it and later make a whole separate entry entitled “And then the toilet tried to destroy my spirit”. It’s kind of a how-to. But just the opposite. Then I conquered the toilet and went to sleep. It took about 3 hours, which I assume is some sort of a record. Victor says he assumes so too.
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Day two: This morning Victor’s going to a sword show and I’m meeting a free tour guide, Chicako, who may or may not be part of the Yakuza. Victor says she’s not but he’s going to take a picture of us together though just in case I end up ransomed. Except he took the picture with the camera I took with me for the day. Awesome. I’m probably going to die violently.
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Took the Tokyo subway to a studio where several people dressed me as a Japanese courtesan.
It’s exactly what it sounds like. (This link leads you to the whole sordid story, which is both embarrassing and only vaguely safe for work.)
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Chicako took me to an important Castle or a Shrine or something. I’m not sure. I just kind of nodded a lot. It was super pretty though. Except I don’t think we ever actually got to the castle. We just walked on a gravel road in the woods. Which was very cool but also sounds like the beginning of a chainsaw maniac movie but there were a lot of other people around so I hardly even thought about chainsaw maniacs. Maybe twice the whole time.
Then we got lost. In the woods. In Japan. With an interpreter who was awesome and sweet but didn’t really speak that much English. Not that I’m judging her because the only phrase I could remember how to say in Japanese was “I tried to fart but poop came out” and when I tried that one she just looked at me strangely. Probably because I pronounced it wrong. Japanese is hard, y’all. So then we were in the woods at this fork in the road and it goes off in 4 directions and there are like 175 acres of woods around us and that’s when I’m all “Well, we’re fucked. We’re going to have to eat each other” except I didn’t want to doubt Chicako’s navigational skills because I was afraid she’d panic so instead I just supportively said “Well, all roads lead to Rome, right?” and she was all “I do not understand” and I’m like “All roads lead to Rome? It’s just something we say in America. All roads lead to Rome. Except that this is Japan so maybe that’s not so applicable because isn’t Japan an island?” and just kind of looked at me and said “What road do you take in America that leads to Rome?” and I’m all “It’s kind of rude to answer a question with another question” but I didn’t say that out loud because technically she’s totally right. Touché, Chicako. Why the hell do we say that? So then I’m all “I don’t actually know why we say that at all. It’s really only applicable if you’re in Europe at the time. And on a road.” Then she nodded and walked about 10 steps down one road and we could see the city again. It was like she was testing me. I totally passed.
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Chicako took me to a soba noodle restaurant in Harajuku station. I walked in and saw a row of empty shoes so I quickly flipped mine off because everyone is barefoot in Japan all the time for some reason. I didn’t really research that tradition but I totally like it. Being barefoot is awesome. Except that there are all these complicated rules about it…like you have to take your shoes off when you walk into someone’s house because it’s a sign of respect, but if you’re mostly naked at the mall because you can’t find a fitting room they ask you to leave. It’s like Japan was trying to get me arrested. And then it turns out that the part of the noodle house Chicako took me to sit in is the one part where you’re not supposed to take your shoes off. And I’m barefoot and we’re sitting with strangers. Also, the people in the raised, no-shoe area next to us are totally laughing at me.
Awesome.
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Tommy Lee Jones is fucking everywhere over here. He’s on practically every vending machine and billboard hawking drinks but instead of saying “This is Tommy Lee Jones” it just says “Boss”.
Me: So you guys really like Tommy Lee Jones over here, huh?
Chicako: Who?
Me: That guy on that billboard. Tommy Lee Jones.
Chicako: O-oh. You mean “the Boss”.
Me: I guess so. His real name is Tommy Lee Jones. He’s kind of an asshole.
Chicako: No. That is the boss.
Me: No, really, that guy’s a famous American actor. He lived in my husband’s hometown. Victor said one time he spit on a guy.
Chicako: ?
Me: Or maybe he kicked someone? I wasn’t really paying attention. He told me the story like 15 years ago.
Chicako: He is the Boss.
Me: No, seriously, he’s kind of an asshole. Don’t get near him if you ever see him because he’ll probably spit on you. That guy’s like a llama.
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Chicako and I are waiting on the street toward a market and she tells me we can’t cross right now because there’s a parade going by.
Me: Huh. Are those children tied up like prisoners?
Chicako: Yes. It’s a parade.
Me: Yeah. Of course it is.
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Then I took Chicako out for thank-you-cheesecake and we said goodbye and she didn’t seem like she wanted to keep in touch. Probably because I made her help me buy boobie pudding. Then I went back to the hotel and told Victor all about my day and he was all “WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU? These people are all about decorum and respect. You probably terrified that poor girl” and I was all, “No way. I am full of decorum” and he’s all “I think maybe you don’t know what ‘decorum’ means” and I’m all “Whatever, dude. You know when I can’t sleep and I go in the living room to watch TV but when I turn on the light the cat squints and mew because the light’s too bright? I always say ‘Sorry’. Even though the cat probably doesn’t know what I’m saying and may never say anything back to me. That’s just the kind of person I am.” Then Victor was all “What? The cat is never going to talk back to you.” and I’m like “I know. He’s kind of an asshole. BUT I STILL TRY. And that’s what decorum is all about.” Then Victor is all “That’s what insanity is all about. Apologizing to cats and expecting them to answer you.” and I’m all “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘expecting’ it. I’m just saying it would be a pleasant surprise.” Then Victor sighed all disgustedly and started to walk out except there’s no place to walk to except out in the hall where there’s a vending machine of beer (thank you, Japan) plastered with pictures of Tommy Lee Jones and I’m all “Hey, WTF is up with Tommy Lee Jones everywhere?” and Victor’s like “Yeah, it was like that last year too. He’s ‘The Boss’ apparently. He’s kind of an asshole.”
Me: I KNOW! That’s what I told Chicako.
Victor: They should have a showdown between Bruce Springsteen and Tommy Lee Jones. Like some kinda “Boss” cage match.
Me: And Tony Danza’d show up right when Bruce and Tommy Lee were both exhausted and barely standing from punching each other and Tony’d be all “Who’s the Boss? Me, motherfuckers. I’m the boss“. Plus, he’d win because Mona’s in his corner and she fights dirty.
Victor: And that’s why I love you.*
*He didn’t actually say that last part out loud but I could totally see it in his eyes when he walked away and locked himself in the bathroom.
Coming up soon…Day 3: Where the fuck are we?
PS. On a totally unrelated note, I’m going to be at my first ever book signing in Houston tomorrow (Tuesday the 17th) and you should come. Also, fair warning, I only contributed like four pages to the Kirtsy book. That probably works in the book’s favor though. Also, I’m not getting paid for any of this book stuff so none of this counts as shilling. So stop stop smirking at me, Tommy Lee Jones. I’m nothing like you.
Comment of the day: I nearly burnt my bum on a heated toilet seat in japan. Ok, it wasn’t that it was hot, but the fact that it was actually warm was a horrific shock to my cheeks, so I nearly fell off it. Who on earth wants to heat the loo seat to the perfect temperature for bacteria to grow on? That’s just asking for trouble. ~ pixielation