All the fake fun you can handle...in 2 hours

Last night Carrie and I went out in Sagamiono and got pissed. We went to an izakaya, get hammered, through some food, fake vomited and left. Fine weekend fun. But not the kind of fun worth blogging about. At least not blogging about it for the 32985731285742389574th time. So here is my guide to extending your drunken antics past the cut-off for nomihoodai (all you can drink).

Carrie looking sexy.



Me looking suspicious.



Elevators.
Did you know that the air-conditioner switches off when the doors close and it stops moving? True. And I should know. Last night Carrie and me did some partying in Sagamiono. Following getting pretty smashed in an izakaya, it tooke us about 2 seconds in the lift to know that getting out on the ground floor would be a wasted opportunity (or 3). And so we did what any bored/drunk/hilarious people would do...we fake-pashed until the doors would open in which case we would look around sheepishly and apologise much to the disgust of our new lift-sharing friends. Pretty funny. But not funny enough. After a few goes at that, and just generally being tools, we waited for the lift to get to the bottom but rather than get out we laid on the ground and waited for someone outside to press the button to open the doors. At which point we would drag ourselves from the lift on hands and knees, gasping for air saying "thanks you, thank you, thank you etc" precisely in the way you would if you actually had been trapped in a lift and weren't just mid-way through a night of drunken-faking adventures.

Print-club.
Many of you might know that in Japan it's pretty much the done thing to get print-club photos of you and your bitches as a reminder of wasted hours spent hanging out in video-game centres. Nerds. Print-club is also hot for when you get hammered and think you are looking a bit like Bon Jovi and need some stickers to capture your sexiness. Not suprisinly me and Carrie were pretty fucking excited to find a booth (amongst the sea of booths) that has a wind machine. A WIND MACHINE! A total dream come true. If you look at the photos above you would be forgiven for thinking that we were frollicking about on bonfire-night. Fake. And also that Carrie was a princess (true) But the tiara? Fake.


McDonalds.
After we were done with print-club, and the place closed down we decided to go to McDonalds. Much to out dismay, sweet, sweet McDonalds was fucking closed. Jesus. So we stood at the door rubbing our stomachs faking hunger. Although the counter-kids thought this was rather amusing (and it was) they were not exactly in a hurry to cough up some love-burgers. To further demonstrate our want/need of their goodies we pulled up some chairs right at the front door. Nothing. After all the smiling, and stomach-rubbing and yelling it was time for a fake cardiac-arrest of course. So I took a fall, whilst Carrie faked doing CPR on me. Absolute classic. We are comic geniuses for god-damn-sure. But still no burgers. Penny-pinchers.

Have I told you lately that I love you?

Well I do. Except Michelle who is dead to me. And for those of you who are crying bitter tears of regret about my break-up with Michelle, dry your eyes. No sooner was she forsaken than she was replaced by a sexier SBF (second best friend) Azaria. As some of you may know Tim came and visited for about a week on his way around the whole god-damn world, and during his visit me and Carrie taught him a trick or two about stealing from the very same izakaya that we emancipated Michelle from. And so I find myself in a whole new world. And I know all about whole new worlds cos we went to Disneysea and there is a super-big Aladdin land. It rubs. Anyways, previously Azaria was known as Sharon/Shannon (thanks Tim) due to her transexual ensemble but I changed her name to Azaria for 3 reasons. Reason 1: I'm controlling. Reason 2: My gorgeous sister has a habit of inheriting other-people's/stray animals and renaming them and that is hot. Reason 3: She looks like she is being fucked up by a dingo.


Apart from being a he-she, Azaria likes to indulge in shopping at Rag-Tag in Shibuya, and basks in the delicate smell of Extreme from Paul Smith. Azaria detests Michelle and any other rat/rabbits that cross her path. And not suprisingly Azaria has a problem with dingoes.

Prior to Tim's arrival I was feeling all kinds of bored and was gradually getting over it a bit. I secretly hoped that seeing Tokyo through virginal eyes might rekindle my love, and I think it has. We did all the amazing things that are truly the heart of Japan: karaoke, fake sleeping on the train, being gorgeous in convenience stores, stealing, and wearing costumes. Here are some highlights from our sexy time...


Me and Tim and a yamumba-chick and a stolen hat. Nice hair.


But not as nice as your hair Tim.


Me and Tim with my friends Satoe and Kyoko. Sexy bitches.


Fake sleeping. Love that shit.


Someone who's name and identity remain a mystery to this day. She looks like she loves it though.


What can I say?


Tim dying slowly at Familymart.

So what else is new?　I'm loving myself sick in jean-shorts which are the new black in Tokyo. For those of you who put up with my moaning about jean-shorts being totally hot (in a euro-trash backpacker kind of way) for the past year or so but didn't pay attention, get your unsexy asses to Jeanswest. Buy some jeans. Cut them (to about knee length). Hot. Unless of course you have ugly legs, then you'll be glad you only bought them at Jeanswest and not Diesel. And to Will and Xtina, thanks for sticking by me through the tough times. Your support of jeans-shorts will not be forgotten. For those of you who are unconvinced, check out Xtina sporting the hottest in old Lee jeans-shorts...


Jealous?

What else am I loving?
- Planning a trip to London for the first week of December. Hopefully if I write it down I will totally get organised and do it!
- The idiots at the bottle shop near work that individually wrap each VB stubby I buy regardless of how many I get.
- Having 2 phones and feeling like a total pimp.
- The end of summer! I never thought I'd say that but my summer essentially started in October last year, and since then the closest I have come to an exhilirating breeze of cool air is my winter-wonderland apartment where the temperature is a constant 16 degrees. Everytime I'm dying of dehydration in the Japanese summer I think about summer in Australia and I remember this fucking spastic line from a 12th Man CD: "Cos when it's summer in Australia, if you don't like cricket I can tell you it's a real bummer." But in Japan when it's summer, if you don't like swimming in a pool of your own sweat, smelling like a bastard, and wearing inappropriate office attire in the middle of the day when walking in the blazing sunshine I can tell you that then, and only then, is it a real bummer.

And in this ying-yang world we live in, for all the love there must be hate. So what am I fucking hating at the moment?
- Humidity and the sweatinees that accompanies it (except when I'm wearing a white t-shirt)
- The fuckwits at the pool that are all in my face squirreling about in the water like morons for the half an hour in morning before their 11am aquarobics classes.
- Lack of sleep. In Japan there is no daylight savings so the sun comes up at about 4. It's fucked.
- Earthquakes. The one today was not even cute. It was shit and scary. Luckily for meI wasn't wearing roller-skates for I surely would have been involved in some kind of incident. Phew!