Can you imagine it's been more than two years since I left my island-nation-source for the Big Apple? That isn't to say that Yoko stopped being mctm. I just thought that my interactions with her strange and hilarious behavior would be so few and far between, why write on them because who's gonna care? But I now know that it is important to get these stories down in writing and up on an info cloud. You know. Just in case. Like the little prince and the extinct volcano. "One never knows..."
Skype helps a lot, too. Stay tuned for more back-posts, coming soon. Two years is a lot of hilarity to catch up on.
Showing posts with label first post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label first post. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
First Post Stress Disorder
As far as this blog goes, the idea began as mostly a joke, but now Ashika is telling me I should really do it, so: here it is. I haven't even been here a week and already the hilarity is ensuing. I will try to post them as they happen, but cut me some slack because a) I'm sure it was funnier when it happened, b) sometimes things were funnier in the Japanese in which they happened, and c) I've never claimed I could actually tell a good story anyway.
Yesterday I discovered that my penchant for parking in tight parking spaces in arid parking lots is likely genetic. We were going to get some sushi and stopped by a store to buy a turkey for the upcoming thanksgiving feast. My mom drove around to the front of the lot passing up loads of open spaces and parked between a car and the payment kiosk - the space was so tight, I had to climb out the driver's side. I didn't question this decision, because I decided that, even though it was a Tokyo parking lot and fit like 10 cars anyway, maybe she really wanted to park as close to the front as possible so that we didn't have to carry the turkey so far...or something. But then, when we went to the sushi place, she did it again! An empty lot with two cars, one space between them and she headed right into the tight spot. I was amazed that she did this thing I've been made fun of so many times for doing. So I asked her, "Why do you always park in the tight spot when there's so much room?" She claimed to not even notice that she does it, but when I pressed her for an answer, she said that maybe it was so that she didn't park on the line. Well, I guess that's a logical answer, but it doesn't explain why I do it. I still think it's probably genetic. This is the same woman who was complaining about the amount of junk email she gets, and comments, "Who has time to send all this junk mail any how?" It's almost impossible for me to comprehend that in her mind actual people named Hope E. Esparaza and Hilario P. Mooney were busy sending emails with subjects like "Tiny dic'k can never attract woman's attention" and "This offer will make your s'e_xual dreams come true." Anyway.
Yesterday I discovered that my penchant for parking in tight parking spaces in arid parking lots is likely genetic. We were going to get some sushi and stopped by a store to buy a turkey for the upcoming thanksgiving feast. My mom drove around to the front of the lot passing up loads of open spaces and parked between a car and the payment kiosk - the space was so tight, I had to climb out the driver's side. I didn't question this decision, because I decided that, even though it was a Tokyo parking lot and fit like 10 cars anyway, maybe she really wanted to park as close to the front as possible so that we didn't have to carry the turkey so far...or something. But then, when we went to the sushi place, she did it again! An empty lot with two cars, one space between them and she headed right into the tight spot. I was amazed that she did this thing I've been made fun of so many times for doing. So I asked her, "Why do you always park in the tight spot when there's so much room?" She claimed to not even notice that she does it, but when I pressed her for an answer, she said that maybe it was so that she didn't park on the line. Well, I guess that's a logical answer, but it doesn't explain why I do it. I still think it's probably genetic. This is the same woman who was complaining about the amount of junk email she gets, and comments, "Who has time to send all this junk mail any how?" It's almost impossible for me to comprehend that in her mind actual people named Hope E. Esparaza and Hilario P. Mooney were busy sending emails with subjects like "Tiny dic'k can never attract woman's attention" and "This offer will make your s'e_xual dreams come true." Anyway.
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