For those of you who haven’t yet heard, I’m back in Indiana - entirely against my will, but not entirely disappointed about it. You see, I encountered a little “trouble” with immigration in the UK. Most of which consisted of a stupid old man named John Anderson (I feel like I can mention his name both because I don’t give a rat’s ass about his privacy, and because it’s so generic anyway) who resembled the grandpa from Everybody Loves Raymond, only more disheveled.

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I was out extra special late Friday and Saturday night this past weekend. Both times I was a total wet blanket by the end of the night because I stopped drinking about a week ago, and who the hell stays out till 6am anyway? I don’t care how drunk you are. That’s olympic-scale recreating.

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So I’m teaching myself how to throat sing. I’m not so very stoked about the traditional applications of most throat singing as, for me at least, that music is almost unlistenable. But I have been studying it, trying to dissect the techniques. I figure it’s worth learning both for even more varied range, and to learn how to better control my throat. In practicing, I’ve also found it works the hell out my diaphragm and lungs!

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“TOKYO - As many as five people might have died and at least 10 more were wounded after a man went on a knife rampage through Tokyo’s popular electronics district on Sunday, a fire department official said, according to Reuters.” -msnbc.com

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For those who haven’t heard it yet, here’s the demo I did for Spoiled (Lethargy X) a few weeks back, with some lyrics for following along.

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I’ve done the math, and what I’ve decided is that more or less all dudes are covered in their own, and other dudes’ pee most of the time. How is that so? Reasonings:

1. The standard sit-down style toilet found in most homes is not ideal for standing urination. In the past few years I’ve attempted, in vain, to find a “g-spot” of the bowl - in theory, the one place which minimizes blunt contact such that there is no back-spray. In the center of the water? The “shore”? Back wall? Front? Side? Graze it off the rim? No. No. No. No. No. Oh god no. I haven’t been able to find it. What’s worse, all toilets are subtly different meaning that, even if you perfected one, it would probably only apply to THAT particular toilet which you use.

   The dangerous thing about back-sray is that you normally don’t feel it because you’re wearing pants. I guarantee that if you throw a germ light on a random dude, his shins will light up like the sun.

2. Alarmingly, in this day and age, I’d say about 40% of men don’t wash their hands after making wee. (maybe half that for poo… It’s bad, I know.) A plea to all guys who do this: YOUR JUNK IS DIRTY BECAUSE IT LIVES IN YOUR PANTS ALL DAY… WITH ITSELF.
3. Even if a guy is awesome and washes his hands, have you ever seen a men’s public bathroom? Especially in, say, a bar. I’d rather barf in a dumpster. Compound that with the fact that many restrooms have now switched to blow-driers instead of paper towels or complex cloth-diaper-looking systems. But most of the doors still open inward. Personally, I try to use the back of my hand, pinky, or grip on an awkward part of the handle that I figure no one ever touches. I know I’m lying to myself. Sometimes a dude comes in right when I’m finishing washing my hands, so I rush out before the door closes, hands still dripping wet.
4. Most guys stopped caring about pee a while ago. Get a little on your hands? Rub some dirt on it. Or do absolutely nothing to remedy it. “Fuck it.”

Disgusting. Think about this crap next time you shake a dude’s hand.

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I realize this is trivial, but I’ve been wanting to vent this crapola for a while.

I’ve noticed a new trend in large-scale web development while traveling. I’ll use myspace as an example because it’s especially bad… at everything (like the Microsoft of social networking sites). I’m in Japan right now. Every time I go to myspace to sift through my 20 new friend requests - 19 of which are spam trying to get me to perv out on a web cam - to accept ONE legitimate request, (And I’m asked to log in. Another myspace peeve of mine. No matter how often or how hard I click that “Remember Me” check box, it NEVER REMEMBERS ME.) the page is sweater-vested in Japanese! I guess yeah, sure. Partly my fault for traveling to a foreign country and not knowing how to read their writing (in my defense, kanji is hard). But if they could figure out how to remember who I am, perhaps they could remember that I SPEAK ENGLISH.

Same thing goes for Australia, but to a lesser degree. Some companies (I believe Amazon is one of them) automatically forward you to your regional website. At least there it was all still in English. But really, Japanese myspace. You need to get your act together.

I need to delete my account.

PS: On the other hand, it’s hilarious to see a randomly generated “Find love in Yokohama!” ad with two pictures of white chicks. OWNED.

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Look at all this new stuff! And now that you’re here, we may begin!

As always, I’m far behind updating. Now to a point such that I’ll have to leave a bunch of specifics out and just gloss over everything. Like describing the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling as decorative spackle. Though that’s not to say anything I’ve done lately has been beautiful. Unless you consider ass-punishing lasagna art. If so, read on!

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