Welcome to the on-going adventures of me.
It's Friday, May 31, 1991 - I'm in Kobe-shi (City of Kobe) for a renewer's conference for returning assistant English teachers (AETs) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.I'm having girlfriend problems (Ashley), compounded by the fact that Ihave some feelings for another young woman - Kristine South - and thetwo of them have met and are apparently chummy. That's all you need to know... except for the fact that despite all of this, I ain't getting any.
It's not a good day. I have donuts for breakfast. Probably because I'm still drunk from last night festivities involving Kristine and her compadres from the Kinki Block district who don't mind a guy living 500 kilometres away from them hanging out with them.
Finished my long introduction, I move myself from the hotel room - and where the heck did I get these donuts from, anyway? - and make my way over to the conference room where I listen to a bunch of speeches almost as dry as my throat.
I sit with my pal Matthew, Ashley sits beside him. I don't suspect anything is going on with them, because well, I know Matthew. I also know Ashley has been a major drag since I got here to Kobe. Heck, maybe I have too. Anyhow, she's avoiding me. Anyone can see that. I don't, of course.
I ask Ashley if she wants to go to lunch with us, and get that all too familiar response that I wish I had recorded and could put to music for you right now: "No.. too sleepy."
Y'see, it seems she was up late two nights ago after she ditched me. She met up with Kristine and were apparently dancing together at the disco in the effing hotel. Kristine.. you got some 'plaining to do.
Still, it was Kristine who told me. She was down bleary eyed and nice tail yesterday after her late night out with Ashley. She hung out with me at the conference all day long and went out with me in the evening. Ashley - two days later - needs sleep.
You know, if it was any other person, I would have felt snubbed, but I know Ashley and sleep go together like... well, like Kristine and me. Or so I delude myself, even almost 20 years later.
Anyhow, Tim Mould, his girlfriend Mona Maas, Doug Maitland, Matt, Kara (the cousin and fellow AET of Mari Ann Hiroka, another AET) and I go to an Indian restaurant called Gaylords (no apostrophe). I think everyone here feels I need cheering up and are concerned for me, and want to make me feel comfortable... which is why the Indian restaurant was chosen.
Matthew, the only one besides myself who should have known better is either too hungover to care, or really wants Indian food, or has plotted his revenge against me for all of my nightly snorings which seem to bother both Doug and he, but not myself for some reason.
Anyhow... I may look like I'm Indian (dot not the feather), but I've never been there, don't speak any of the languages, and darn it all, don't eat the food because it was always too hot when my mom made it.
Still... mom... I hope you were proud of me, because I ate all I was given even though my actual hair began sweating from the spicy food. My hair. Not my scalp. My friggin' hair! How does that country taste its food?
The afternoon back at the conference is spent listening to a witty little speech given by a member of the Japan Times newspaper. She's very funny - but, because of the Indian food, I spend most of the afternoon trying not to fart and crap my pants.
When her speech finishes, I find Ashley and ask if she'll join me in 10 minutes time for a hamburger. I apparently have important business to take care of in the washroom of my hotel room. Yes, Matthew... something did die in there.
Ashley and I were going to go to the Garage Paradise and meet the Northern Tochigi-ken crowd (of which I belong).But, because they didn't have hamburgers there, Ashley decides she wants Mexican food so the two of us join Mari Ann's group of South western Tochigi-ken AETs and her crowd of red-neck friends. These people were real friggin' yahoos. Not an intelligent word spat out of their maws. Redneck... it's the only way I can describe guys who actually chew tobacco and make jokes about retarded kids. The term retarded... that's what they used. Idiots.
I want to go to the Garage Paradise and be with people of class and intellect... but Ashley wants to stay and go along for the ride - wherever these guys and their rusty pick-up truck are going (that's a redneck joke, boy).
I actually tell Ashley that I don't like these people.
Why, she asks.
Because they are rednecks.
She doesn't think so.
In my head and as I first wrote this down in my diary 20 years ago, I thought that she didn't think they were rednecks because she was probably one herself. She was born in Georgia and went to school in Texas. Everything's bigger in Texas... including the rednecks.
Now... I do want to state for the record, that I have never believed one has to be from the southern part of the US to be a redneck. A redneck is an attitude rather than a geographical location. Heck, boy, we haz rednecks all over Canada. Yee-haw!
I was just upset with Ashley liking people who acted... well, like this. I thought she was better than this. That just put me in a deeper funk.
We all mosey on down to The Attic. I say it's too small to handle our rodeo-like crowd, but Seanna (a beautiful Hawaiian whom I never really liked because she seemed to know she was beautiful... and well, hell, she never gave me the time of day... screw that!), she wanted to go to the next door place, The Attic Jr. Good girl! I knew I liked her! And who is naming all of these restaurant/bars here in Kobe, Japan?
We go. The place is bigger. But then Seanna says - before we even have a beer - that she wants to go back to The Attic. So we go back. It's still too small, and there's no room for us. The staff tell us to go to The Attic Jr.
Now, I'm not the type of guy who says "I told you so"... actually, I was that type of guy and still am that kind of guy, so I do.
That pisses Ashley off. You know... because I'm right, and Ive embarrassed her and all of her friends that she thinks are cool by being right.
She storms off.
I follow.
We talk, in a fashion, in a very agitated fashion.
Then I ask her if she wants to have a serious talk. A real one.
She says "yes".
What the heck was I thinking?
Well, in my mind, I was going to break off our relationship. Screw the 'first love' thing - I'm in a foul mood! So, I tell her that I want to break up.
Now she doesn't want to talk - and says nothing. She's thinking, I think.
We - the two of us - walk back to our hotel, arriving at 10PM. A very early evening for me, as that's usually when I'm getting started, and usually when Ashley has been asleep for an hour.
Obviously I don't get a kiss or a hug. I didn't expect one, and while I wouldn't say no to it, I didn't really want one. I got my wish.
On a bit of an emotional high for finally standing up for myself and finally breaking up with HER (we did break up, right?), I treat myself by going out to the hotel disco and dancing until 1AM when it's obvious I have sweat my weight in beer and vodka. I'm too emotionally high to get drunk.
Ashley was always too shy to dance, though I was able to do so at an AET party back at Christmas time. To be honest... that was the first time I had ever danced. My mom pretty much told me before I left for Japan, to keep the beat (easy because I am musical) and move as much of my body as possible. For some reason it works.
I have no idea who I was dancing with, but there were at least three beautiful women who didn't mind me sweating - because... I'm not that bad a dancer. That's my opinion, of course.
Finishing my dances, I bid my partner sayonora (good bye) and head to the hotel lobby to pay my hotel bill (which is reimbursed by my office at a later date), pack my clothes and go to sleep on my fold out bed.
I'm pretty sure I snore. I dream of nothing... which is what I feel I have right now.
Somewhere, the bathroom still smells of curry,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Ugly Kid Joe. I chose it because it could be about the rednecks, Seanna, Ashley or myself. HATEEVERYTHING.
PS: Twenty years later, I still have the lyrics memorized.
PPS: I did break up with her, didn't I? And where the heck was Kristine this evening?
PPPS: Another blog to appear in 8 hours time - unrelated to this particular adventure, though.
It's Friday, May 31, 1991 - I'm in Kobe-shi (City of Kobe) for a renewer's conference for returning assistant English teachers (AETs) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.I'm having girlfriend problems (Ashley), compounded by the fact that Ihave some feelings for another young woman - Kristine South - and thetwo of them have met and are apparently chummy. That's all you need to know... except for the fact that despite all of this, I ain't getting any.
It's not a good day. I have donuts for breakfast. Probably because I'm still drunk from last night festivities involving Kristine and her compadres from the Kinki Block district who don't mind a guy living 500 kilometres away from them hanging out with them.
Finished my long introduction, I move myself from the hotel room - and where the heck did I get these donuts from, anyway? - and make my way over to the conference room where I listen to a bunch of speeches almost as dry as my throat.
I sit with my pal Matthew, Ashley sits beside him. I don't suspect anything is going on with them, because well, I know Matthew. I also know Ashley has been a major drag since I got here to Kobe. Heck, maybe I have too. Anyhow, she's avoiding me. Anyone can see that. I don't, of course.
I ask Ashley if she wants to go to lunch with us, and get that all too familiar response that I wish I had recorded and could put to music for you right now: "No.. too sleepy."
Y'see, it seems she was up late two nights ago after she ditched me. She met up with Kristine and were apparently dancing together at the disco in the effing hotel. Kristine.. you got some 'plaining to do.
Still, it was Kristine who told me. She was down bleary eyed and nice tail yesterday after her late night out with Ashley. She hung out with me at the conference all day long and went out with me in the evening. Ashley - two days later - needs sleep.
You know, if it was any other person, I would have felt snubbed, but I know Ashley and sleep go together like... well, like Kristine and me. Or so I delude myself, even almost 20 years later.
Anyhow, Tim Mould, his girlfriend Mona Maas, Doug Maitland, Matt, Kara (the cousin and fellow AET of Mari Ann Hiroka, another AET) and I go to an Indian restaurant called Gaylords (no apostrophe). I think everyone here feels I need cheering up and are concerned for me, and want to make me feel comfortable... which is why the Indian restaurant was chosen.
Matthew, the only one besides myself who should have known better is either too hungover to care, or really wants Indian food, or has plotted his revenge against me for all of my nightly snorings which seem to bother both Doug and he, but not myself for some reason.
Anyhow... I may look like I'm Indian (dot not the feather), but I've never been there, don't speak any of the languages, and darn it all, don't eat the food because it was always too hot when my mom made it.
Still... mom... I hope you were proud of me, because I ate all I was given even though my actual hair began sweating from the spicy food. My hair. Not my scalp. My friggin' hair! How does that country taste its food?
The afternoon back at the conference is spent listening to a witty little speech given by a member of the Japan Times newspaper. She's very funny - but, because of the Indian food, I spend most of the afternoon trying not to fart and crap my pants.
When her speech finishes, I find Ashley and ask if she'll join me in 10 minutes time for a hamburger. I apparently have important business to take care of in the washroom of my hotel room. Yes, Matthew... something did die in there.
Ashley and I were going to go to the Garage Paradise and meet the Northern Tochigi-ken crowd (of which I belong).But, because they didn't have hamburgers there, Ashley decides she wants Mexican food so the two of us join Mari Ann's group of South western Tochigi-ken AETs and her crowd of red-neck friends. These people were real friggin' yahoos. Not an intelligent word spat out of their maws. Redneck... it's the only way I can describe guys who actually chew tobacco and make jokes about retarded kids. The term retarded... that's what they used. Idiots.
I want to go to the Garage Paradise and be with people of class and intellect... but Ashley wants to stay and go along for the ride - wherever these guys and their rusty pick-up truck are going (that's a redneck joke, boy).
I actually tell Ashley that I don't like these people.
Why, she asks.
Because they are rednecks.
She doesn't think so.
In my head and as I first wrote this down in my diary 20 years ago, I thought that she didn't think they were rednecks because she was probably one herself. She was born in Georgia and went to school in Texas. Everything's bigger in Texas... including the rednecks.
Now... I do want to state for the record, that I have never believed one has to be from the southern part of the US to be a redneck. A redneck is an attitude rather than a geographical location. Heck, boy, we haz rednecks all over Canada. Yee-haw!
I was just upset with Ashley liking people who acted... well, like this. I thought she was better than this. That just put me in a deeper funk.
We all mosey on down to The Attic. I say it's too small to handle our rodeo-like crowd, but Seanna (a beautiful Hawaiian whom I never really liked because she seemed to know she was beautiful... and well, hell, she never gave me the time of day... screw that!), she wanted to go to the next door place, The Attic Jr. Good girl! I knew I liked her! And who is naming all of these restaurant/bars here in Kobe, Japan?
We go. The place is bigger. But then Seanna says - before we even have a beer - that she wants to go back to The Attic. So we go back. It's still too small, and there's no room for us. The staff tell us to go to The Attic Jr.
Now, I'm not the type of guy who says "I told you so"... actually, I was that type of guy and still am that kind of guy, so I do.
That pisses Ashley off. You know... because I'm right, and Ive embarrassed her and all of her friends that she thinks are cool by being right.
She storms off.
I follow.
We talk, in a fashion, in a very agitated fashion.
Then I ask her if she wants to have a serious talk. A real one.
She says "yes".
What the heck was I thinking?
Well, in my mind, I was going to break off our relationship. Screw the 'first love' thing - I'm in a foul mood! So, I tell her that I want to break up.
Now she doesn't want to talk - and says nothing. She's thinking, I think.
We - the two of us - walk back to our hotel, arriving at 10PM. A very early evening for me, as that's usually when I'm getting started, and usually when Ashley has been asleep for an hour.
Obviously I don't get a kiss or a hug. I didn't expect one, and while I wouldn't say no to it, I didn't really want one. I got my wish.
On a bit of an emotional high for finally standing up for myself and finally breaking up with HER (we did break up, right?), I treat myself by going out to the hotel disco and dancing until 1AM when it's obvious I have sweat my weight in beer and vodka. I'm too emotionally high to get drunk.
Ashley was always too shy to dance, though I was able to do so at an AET party back at Christmas time. To be honest... that was the first time I had ever danced. My mom pretty much told me before I left for Japan, to keep the beat (easy because I am musical) and move as much of my body as possible. For some reason it works.
I have no idea who I was dancing with, but there were at least three beautiful women who didn't mind me sweating - because... I'm not that bad a dancer. That's my opinion, of course.
Finishing my dances, I bid my partner sayonora (good bye) and head to the hotel lobby to pay my hotel bill (which is reimbursed by my office at a later date), pack my clothes and go to sleep on my fold out bed.
I'm pretty sure I snore. I dream of nothing... which is what I feel I have right now.
Somewhere, the bathroom still smells of curry,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Ugly Kid Joe. I chose it because it could be about the rednecks, Seanna, Ashley or myself. HATEEVERYTHING.
PS: Twenty years later, I still have the lyrics memorized.
PPS: I did break up with her, didn't I? And where the heck was Kristine this evening?
PPPS: Another blog to appear in 8 hours time - unrelated to this particular adventure, though.
