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But wait, there's more.

There's just no polite way to say "Buy me things", is there?

Join codebastards, I dare you. Remember, codebastards are us.

I'm baded and jitter. So are these people. (And why not follow the previous, next, or random links?)

Need a band name?

Doug vs. Japanese Snack Foods: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

rant is where the heart is

diaryland: sirilyan.diaryland.com: entry for 2004-03-31 (19:37)
In which our plucky young hero has a pair of conversations.

Last night I was planning on getting home around 9 to talk with a certain girl, but it just didn't happen. A wily Irishman outfoxed me with logic, as seen in the following dialogue reconstructed from memory:

A Wily Irishman, Polishing His Handlebar Mustache, Peering Through A Monocle: Anyone want another?
Innocent Me, Pure And Unblemished Like So Few Things Left In This World: Huh?
The Devious Irishman, Seeing His Chance To Confound Me With A Fiercely Vexing Mental Puzzle: I'm buying.
Angelic Sainted Me, Eyes Glimmering With The Faint Tears Of Hope And Love For All Mankind: Six pints of beer please.
[Later, the Wily Irishman explains why Ireland voted against the Nice Treaty, which reminds us all of Quebec separatism.]
A Barmaid: Are you all right for last call?
My Inside Voice, Or "Soul", Weeping: I can never have enough Creemore Springs.
My Outside Voice, Or "Voice", Which Remembers I Have To Work Tomorrow: I'm good.

Isn't that a great story? I know! But it's not the only one that happened to me yesterday, oh heavens no. The second story that happened was in fact the first story, because it happened on the way to the pub full of the tricky Irish and the bloggy Canadians. I do not play a part in it, but as a witness I am second to none:

[Several J-Punk Anime Kids get on board the subway and talk amongst themselves. The two girls are leaning against the subway doors despite the signs clearly saying not to! It is madness! Can I catch them if the doors fall open behind them? But my thoughts are interrupted--]
Some Guy: Hey, excuse me... are you Japanese? Like, not Chinese or Vietnamese? Because I can tell. I can generally tell where Asian people are from.
[Several J-Punk Anime Kids are not sure how to respond. I am working really, really hard to keep looking straight ahead.]
Some Vaguely Disturbing Guy: I've been to Japan. Kyoto! Six times! Thumbs up! Konichiwa! Mushi-mushi!
[Several J-Punk Anime Kids return the thumbs up. But then they leave, because it is their stop. They depart the subway.]
Some Really, Really Creepy Guy Who Has The Bad Sort Of Asian Fetish, I Mean, Not Like The Other Kind's Any Better But We All Love Lucy Liu So It's Understandable: [a happy conversation with himself in what is possibly Japanese, or possibly not Japanese, but damned if I am ever going to find out, or look at him. Then it is his stop. He gets up and makes for the door.]
The Creepiest Goddamn Japan Guy In The Entire World, Who Is Now Looking Me Straight In The Face That I Am Coincidentally Barely Keeping Straight: Japanese is cool! It's a great language, huh? [he says a few more various Japanese or not Japanese words, and then finally he is out of my life forever]
The Guy Standing Across From Me, Who Has Also Been Trying To Not Crack A Smile At The Craziness Of It All For The Past Several Long, Agonizing Minutes: Too bad he had to go. I could have learned Japanese.
Not Me, Because This Only Came To Me Much, Much Later, And I Try To Be Kind In Public: You'd have gotten better Japanese lessons out of a box of Pocky.

Heavy drinking and subway crazies. I swear, Mimi, I'm not trying to steal your life. It just happened. Now here's a picture of Nora.

Ha, I kid.

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