Friday, April 27
_________________________
The Onesome Threesome Part III
I had been dancing for an hour and as I expected the crowd was getting energized. Beside me a group of five rough looking guys, one even had his eye brows shaved, were chanting a 5 syllable cheer that ended in an exclamation and inevitably one of them uppercutting the air and tumbling on some unfortunate bystander. The fellow with the shaved eyebrows was exceptionally large and closest to me, so I decided it would be a good time to rest and to see how The Terminator was doing.
He was an easy find because he was still in the same area he was the first time I saw him. The only difference was he had seated himself between two girls. There was an Asian girl that matched the Terminator's tastes, thin, small breasted with an amazing face--fresh and unadorned except for sultry lips shiny from gloss. She seemed engaged talking with a Japanese fellow to her side.
The terminator was instead talking to a European girl. She was tall, you could tell, even though she was seated. She sat straight, chest out, clearly advertising what she knew she had. She had long hair and a peek-a-boo bangs over one side of her face. Surrounded in black mascara, you had to admire the green of her eyes. Not without fault, her nose was hard and the slightest bit large and she had thin lips, a simple red line running across a somewhat fuller lower lip. But who would notice something like that in a place like this when she had a body like that?
I waited and waited until the Terminator looked up and saw me. I made the universal signal for call me or let's talk, which involved making my hand into a telephone and wiggling it beside my ear and mouth. A few minutes later we were talking in a dim corridor opposite the restrooms.
"What's up?" he asked as if I was the one up to something interesting.
"Are you being good?"
"I haven't done anything."
"So I guess you will continue not to do anything for the rest of the night with the brunette with the big tits?"
He laughed at this. "What should I do? Do you think she's hot?"
"Ummm--yah. Very. So what were you planning on doing?"
"I don't know. I'm just really curious what it'd be like to kiss her."
This time I laughed. "Yah, and then after that you'd be really curious what it'd be like to have sex with her."
"No. Nothing more after kissing. I can control myself. I just want to know what it'd be like to kiss her. I'm really curious."
"You understand that if you kiss her, you'd lose all rights to being suspicious of Yuki seeing another guy. And in fact, if she is seeing some other guy, you probably deserve it. Also, didn't you say you were crazy about her and if this happens to get really serious you'd feel guilty throughout your entire relationship."
"But I'm just really curious what it'd be like to kiss her."
"I dunno. Well--it's still early in the relationship. So kissing wouldn't be too bad, but I just don't think you can cut it off at that."
"Probably not right?" And after this The Terminator went into a deep think, which I easily answered for him.
"But you're just so curious what it'd be like to kiss her."
He looked at me surprised. I had read his mind. "Yah! Exactly!"
|
Tuesday, April 24
_________________________
Onesome Threesome Part II
Having fared the stairway of 100 people I looked out at the open space of 1000 people. This was Ageha's main room, an enormous dance floor with an equally impressive disco ball at its center. The layout encouraged spectators as it resembled a coliseum, the dance floor, a concrete pit lowered from ground with steel railings enclosing the area. On the sides were tables and chairs, two rows deep, already filling with the reluctant and shy.
Although I was quite sure there was close to 1000 people, the dance floor looked sparse. It seemed techno was not as popular as hip-hop, the music from the previous room.
The crowd was still reserved. The alcohol had not yet taken full control of the small Asian bodies. Only girlfriends encouraging each other onto the dance floor with giggles and tugs, and the leery perverts with one hand clutching a beer and the other in their pocket were dancing. Dancing is used loosely here, unless you consider hobbling in zombie posture dancing.
My experience told me the scene would change in an hour. The guys would get physically aggressive, grabbing with fumbling hands and sometimes even throwing girls in the air while being encouraged with incomprehensible drunken cheers from others. If the girls liked you, you were a take charge dashing man, but if they didn't then you were a pervert jerk. Yet either way, like you or not, the passive culture led the girls to respond in exactly the same way, except for the expression on their face: the one-night-slut smile or the just 2-more-minutes grimace.
I had lost sight of the mother of the LV bag, but I saw my friend standing in the middle of a set of tables. He is half Caucasian and half Chinese but in the haze of a club you would just think him Caucasian. Taller, thicker, strong-jawed with dark brown hair, he certainly looked different than those around him. With an American sporty look, softened in the eyes by his Chinese background, he seemed next-door handsome and approachable.
He promised to be a good boy because he had recently started seeing a Japanese girl exclusively. She worked at the department store of a large franchise as a pretty face, probably thanking profusely any customer that walked by, likely bowing several thousands times a day.
I didn't think he was being very nice when I saw the predatory look in his eyes. I had seen those eyes before. Once when he cornered a brunette lolita from Kazakhstan (no relation to Borat) and had his way with her on the dance floor. Another time when he isolated and attacked (but not in a sexual assault kind of way) a half Japanese, half British girl. The princess definitely had a bitch forcefield around her, but he broke it down. He could be the Terminator of dance clubs. His brain making those computerized bleeps found in the orginal Star Trek or B-Grade spy movies as he sized up the physical features of a girl: 5'6, bleep, bleep, B-cup, bleep, long hair, bleep, bleep, no men immediately beside her, bleep, B-cup, bleep, target aquired end of transmission.
It wasn't until we caught each other's attention that he relaxed his game face and gave me an easy smile.
When I shook my head disapprovingly, he returned a smile given by children with their hands caught in a cookie jar. I knew then for sure he was not going to be good boy, because the Terminator was working. bleep.
TO BE CONTINUED....
|
Friday, April 20
_________________________
The Onesome Threesome Part I
I never had the time, or was it motivation, to write many anecdotes about my one-year stay in Japan.
I'll start things off with a favourite of mine.
It was 1 am and we just got inside Ageha, the largest club in Asia. For Torontonians, imagine twice the space of the Guvernment et. al., for others, imagine a size so large that having a food court and a swimming pool wouldn't sound ridiculous.
As I said, it was 1 am, and in terms of Tokyo clubbing, it was early. At 1 there was still plenty of room to move, to dance, even to buy drinks. The clubs peak at 2 and this continues until 4. At that point you do not walk down stairs so much as surrender to the flow caused by a forest of bent arms, raised armpits and crushed chests. The air smelt not so much wintery fresh as smokey and whatever hair product the person in front of you used since your face was now grooming it.
You must really take the rocking motion literally as I did not hardly ever make any movements on my own and was just pushed back and forth, one foot back for every two feet forward.
The rocking movement had two players. The people behind were pushing forward, anxious for the promise of new music, flirting and booze and the people in front were pushing back in order to breath and gain balance. Some of the shorter people could very well never have touched ground, lodged between the sweaty bodies.
Sweet justice arrived when those same eager assholes become the desperate front, trying now to ebb the aggressiveness only moments before they were the culprit of.
I remember being forced upon the girl in front, my body tightly spooning her, my face in apology. I can't say I was unhappy. It just so happened, in true great pachinko form, I used the little freedom I had to traject myself away from the spikey haired Anime dudes with bleached orange hair and feathery goatees and towards the smaller cuter jpop girls. I also remember her arm being twisted backwards unnaturally, but with superhuman strength, like that of a mother protecting her child, still clinging to an LV purse. Using a well placed Double Dragon elbow, I saved her arm and her LV child and she shot me a thankful look. I managed a meek smile just before my body was suddenly whipped against hers, with my crotch against her it was sort of difficult to play gentleman.
TO BE CONTINUED....
|
Saturday, April 14
_________________________
Feathers
When I was young, there was a handheld game I played that had you running the length of the screen, back and forth, catching falling feathers. As the levels increased the speed of the feathers did also.
These days I feel that my family problems are those feathers and at times I feel that there are just too many feathers to catch.
But I've realized the difference between that game and my life. The first is that I'm not the only player in the game. There are other people out there that can help. Also, letting some feathers drop does not mean game over and that sometimes choosing could be even better than frantically trying to clutch both.
Really now, I'm just hoping to make a pillow.
|
Friday, April 13
_________________________
Office, Dr. Vu
I've recently begun to occasionally answer the phone when I think my father is too busy. My Vietnamese listening comprehension is high, but my verbal ability is a patchwork of grunts, yes, no and, if the caller is lucky, nouns.
My greeting translated is "Office, Dr. Vu."
The following are a few conversations thereafter.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Am I speaking to Dr. Vu?"
"No. OFFICE, Dr. Vu."
"I'm sorry. Wrong phone number"
She hung up before I could even attempt to explain it was the right number. She must have thought I said, Not office of Dr. Vu.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Are you Dr. Vu?"
"No, OFFICE Dr. Vu."
"Can I speak with Dr. Vu."
"No."
Very long expectant pause because I don't know how to explain why he is busy.
And nothing happened next -- nothing verbal at least. I only very gently hung up the phone with my index finger after what seemed like 5 days of climatical silence. He probably expected me to say something all CAPS worthy like "HE'S DELIVERING A BABY WITH HIS BLOODY BARE HANDS AND A KITCHEN BUTTER KNIFE!"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Are you Wendy?"
"No." (Do I have a female's voice?)
"Who are you?"
"Ummmm (I'm thinking about how to say secretary, but I'm almost sure they wouldn't understand, instead I settle for something I thought, at the time, resourceful) not-Wendy."
"Who?!?"
"Ummmm Secretary" (but to them, it probably sounded like Sika-tarr-y
"Who?!?!?"
I gently hung up with my index finger.
I guess the only thing you can take from this entry is, wouldn't it be nice to gently hung up on people in real life?
|
Monday, April 2
_________________________
So funny
Very funny James Bond spoof
|
Sunday, April 1
_________________________
Playing more hours
Since my parents are gone, like I've said, I've been able to log more hours in poker. I've recently switched to a new easier player site, but these results are pretty typical of the swings I face when I play poker.
DATE+HOURS+NET GAIN/LOSS
26TH 2 HOURS $108
27TH 2 HOURS $88
27TH 3 HOURS $56
27TH 0.5 HOURS $4
27TH 1 HOURS $72
28TH 0.5 HOURS $104
28TH 1.5 HOURS $38
28TH 3 HOURS $-298
28TH 0.5 HOURS $ 3
28TH 0.5 HOURS $129
29TH 0 HOURS $176
29TH 1 HOURS $75
29TH 0 HOURS $53
30TH 1 HOURS $68
31TH 3 HOURS $-144
31TH 0.5 HOURS $183
31TH 0.5 HOURS $-2
31TH 1.5 HOURS $-142
31TH 0 HOURS $11
31TH 0.5 HOURS $92
31TH 1 HOURS $90
1ST 1 HOURS $182
1ST 1 HOURS $4
Total hours: 25.5
Profit: 890
Dollars per hour: 35 dollars an hour.
As I've said, this is a good showing, and I don't usually make this much, the ups and downs look very similar to what usually happens, five good sessions then one bad one.
This is also before I get my bonus money which should be a few more hundred dollars for the time I've played. You get bonus money called rakeback. Rake = money the site takes from each pot (this is how they make their money). Rake back is you get a refund on some of that rake. I'm signed up through a site so I get 30 percent of my rake back.
I hope to stick it out at this level for a few months. I want to try going up in stakes one more time by September. By going up in stakes again, I'm pretty sure I could make a comfortable living (if I do well).
|
|
Music makes me bet
So I try not to be superstitious when I play poker, but I'm finding that some music DOES affect my play. Fiest makes me lose. Fiest makes me lose a lot. Keane has never let me down. I'm pretty damn sick of listening to it, but you can't argue with money. Classical music is neutral.
But I do think it does something and isn't just luck. I think the music maybe makes me play more aggresive/passive or some kind of effect. Whatever it is, if it works, I'm continuing it.
With my parents gone on vacation, I've finally, since the time I've gotten back, can focus on my poker playing and I'm doing better than I timidly projected. I once again moved up in stakes and am consistently (short sample of 14 sessions) doing well. It is bad timing because although my parents are away, my cousin from Germany has come and I feel that I must show them around, the obligatory visit the Falls. Unfortunately to see the waterfall, not the casino!
|
|
|
