Hey, giggles.

I’ve been in Indiana for three weeks now, a week longer than I had planned when first arriving here. It’s only just now that I’ve tracked down someone who could say “do this and maybe this will happen”. Too late anyway. I’d already decided yesterday that I wouldn’t be returning to the UK.

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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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“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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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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Holy jangles, I am a bad person for taking so long to post another entry. I need to get my ass in gear more often. According to this blog-o-page, it’s been 17 days since my last post. UH-OOOOOOOH.

There was a small get-together at Dave’s place shortly after my last post. I forget when. One of Dave’s coworkers, John, was there with his Japanese girlfriend, along with another Japanese dude, Aki, and then three girls who arrived in stages. It turned out to be totally boring because barely anyone would loosen up and have fun. In other words, no one was drinking. Which sucks, because I dropped like $100 on spirits and buffalo wings for the occasion. Crap!

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Oicha. Long overdue. My baddles. I meant for this entry to have happened a few days ago when it could have been all romantic and junk. But hey, I’m a born procrastinator. It’s what I do. AND I’M GOOD AT IT DAMN IT.

I’m in Japan(ts) now. Been that way for probably three days. I forget when I arrived. Getting here was made excruciatingly difficult for my lack of discipline. I had a PARTY time my last night in Cairns/Australia. Hit some booze and such with my mouth. I swear it was an accident. The ordeal left me going to sleep at about tooth:hurty AM because we undertook an arduous sojourn to visit a friend who lived out in a range somewhere. We had a great time, but the distance meant that I probably spent about $80 total on cab fare. I’m not worried about that because it was worth it. Smoke. Spirits. All you can do is imagine.

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Wassup chuckle bunnies. So this might be the beginning of my travel blog, although I admit not much travel has yet happened. I apologize.

But… but but butt! I do have a story. Story time with Capt. Torrence Rapebeard (I’m ghost writing, shhhhhh):

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