Today sucks

My favourite school director is switching schools. That is not fun. Not at all.

Men in this country are scary ungood- and those are the foreigners.


I'm flying to Abu Dhabi tomorrow and oh, my goodness, I am so happy to be going there. Expect more updates if Blogspot isn't blocked in the UAE.

A Japanese Hospital Extravangaza! Part One: Showa Hospital is fucking horrible,

I. Am. Sick.

I first realized that I was sick on Friday. No, not last Friday- the one before that. While at work, I started having weird lower back and stomach pain. It wasn't horrible- I've had worse menstrual cramps- so I shrugged it off and went on with my day.

By the time I got back to my home station, I was feeling pretty rank. Woozily, I picked up some food and beer. Of note at this point was that I hadn't had any appetite for about five days.

My friend Adam and I were hanging out and drinking the beer, and while I wasn't in great shape, I'd felt worse. Strangely, though, I wasn't all that interested in my beer.

Somewhere around 1 AM, Adam went to the bathroom, and I laid down. Suddenly, it seemed very, very significant, this dull ache. I started breathing hard. What the fuck was going on? Was this the world's most painful unreleased fart? Appendicitis? The Birth of Our New Lord and Savior?

Adam took one look at me and gave me his patented Disapproving Dad™ look. "You need to go to the hospital."

"No way."

"Yes, you do."

"FUCK IT."

He waited ten seconds.

"Oh, god, can you just google 'appendicitis' for me?"

Adam called the hospital instead. A true gentleman, he came with me in the ambulance. Yes, he brought his beer.

With Adam acting as my faithful translator, we managed to have the following conversation with the ambulance guy:

ADAM: [Japanese] She's having pain in her lower back...
AMBULANCE GUY: So it's a stomachache?
ADAM: [English] Do you have a stomachache?
GTA: No, not really, I think it's in my kidneys.
ADAM: [Japanese] She thinks it's her kidneys.
AMBULANCE GUY: Ah! So a headache, then...
ADAM: [English] Do you have a headache?
ANNA: Are you on fucking crack?
ADAM: [Japanese] She doesn't have a headache, it's her lower back. Where her kidneys are.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

After about twenty minutes of discussion, the driver and the Ambulance Guy brokered some kind of deal, and we FINALLY left for the hospital. When I asked if maybe I could lie on my side instead of my back, I was apologized to and told it was not possible. I lay on my poor, throbbing back the entire trip to the hospital, trying not to cry and clutching my ancient stuffed rabbit, which Adam had thoughtfully thrown in my purse on our way out. He had his own comfort animal: the rest of his beer.

Upon arrival, I was rolled into a room and the same round of questions began again. Stomachache? No. Headache? No. Pregnant? Decidedly not. Jesus fucking christ. Between Adam and I, using a skillful combination of Japanese, English, whining (mine), interpretive dance, and emphatic pointing, we managed to convince the staff that there was something internally wrong in the lower back region.

Then came the inevitable pounding: "Does this hurt?" No, you're punching my fucking shoulder. "Does this hurt?" That's a scapula, numbnuts. "Does this hurt?" That's my ARMPIT. What fucking madness do you expect to find lurking beneath my armpit? They finally- and literally- hit upon the problem. "Oh," the doc said thoughtfully, "There seems to be something wrong with your kidneys."

UN-GUUUHHHH??!?!? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Fuckhead! [GTA note: Sorry, I'm still pissed. You'll see why later.]

They wanted pee, so I went to give them pee. It was then that I noticed that I was peeing blood.



I handed them my bloody pee, finally scared into silence.

Then came the ultrasound, which I desperately tried to watch. The second they realized my interest, however, they pushed a little curtain between me and the screen! Bastards! I am a SCIENTIST, which they probably couldn't tell from my skanky tank top and leopard-print pajama pants. Then again, the nurse took my pulse using a Nightmare Before Christmas watch, so maybe they were just a mean bunch.

After about three hours of poking and prodding, I was finally told that I had kidney stones. Kidney stones that would pass in a day or two. Embarrassed, I started gathering things. Adam tried to ask what might have caused it, but either he didn't understand the answer or the doctor didn't understand the question, because there was a moment of mutual confusion before an older doctor, who had been watching the proceedings with crossed arms and incurable bitchface, rolled his eyes and said dramatically, in perfect English, "It could be ANY NUMBER OF THINGS. Diet. Environment. Activity. It's not really important."

Oh, okay. Thank you for speaking English NOW, cockmonkey.

The cheerful nurse handed me my prescription. "Now, when you take this medicine..." She stopped delicately, blushed, then turned to the computer and consulted it before writing something down on a prescription pad and showing it to Adam.

Adam started laughing.

"What?"

"She's not gonna like this..." he told the nurse.

Oh, god. "What?" I gasped, horrified.

With a nasty grin, Adam showed me what was written on the paper:

SUPPOSITORY

"Oh, hell no. Are they out of their fucking minds? Do they think I'm going to-- Adam, don't you dare translate this!-- ask them if there's anything else!"

A flurry of cheerful opposition hit me. This was stronger, it would work faster, it was better for me, yaddah yaddah. By this point, it was four AM, and I just didn't care anymore. "Fine. What is it?"

"They said it's a painkiller?"

"JUST a painkiller."

He checked. "Yep."

"I'm not taking it. I can get kancho at work for free."

I checked out, Adam asked when I could drink again- two days- and we limped home. Despite my fear of fisting myself, I figured that the nightmare was over, and that in a few days I'd be free and clear, both literally and figuratively.

Little did I know that the ordeal was just beginning...

Students Are Always a Good Time

"I like to see the rape blossom. Do you understand, or are you scared now?"

I love dirty old men

Two weeks ago, I had a very taciturn, grouchy student. One thing I've noticed about older male students is that they are either very enthusiastic, or quiet as fuck because they're exhausted. That's fair, as many of them have just come from their ball-busting workdays. I'm pretty good at drawing people out with talk, but this guy resisted my every effort.

He asked me a question that's very popular amongst students- what surprised me when I first came to Japan?- and I decided to see if I could at least shock a giggle out of him. With a grin, I informed him that I had seen a soapland* and, surprise surprise, the window had been open and I had seen just EVERYTHING! (This story is not true, of course. I've never seen a soapland with windows, let alone one on the ground floor of a building.)

He did indeed howl with surprised laughter, and started talking. Oh, he told me many things. Where to find the infamous used panty vendors. Techniques for molesting girls on the train. Websites where Japanese high school girls advertise their services and older businessmen acquiesce. All the stuff you hear about Japan, but say "naaaaaah" to, basically.

Was he having a laugh at my expense? Is he getting off on explaining this to someone he considers to be demure and wide-eyed? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that he now requests me every week, and I always look forward to seeing him and hearing his latest stories of perversion. It's the kind of conversation I dream about: fun, interesting, and nasty as hell. You should see the note sheets I write for this guy.

* For those who don't know what a soapland is, this post is awesome.

Students Are Just Ducky

"I think Korean people are like animals because they are so ungrateful for what we did for them. When Japan occupied Korea, we made so many improvements and made their culture better. We did the same thing in Taiwan and they are still grateful today. This is why I think Japanese people don't like Koreans."

Out All Night

So, like, at the end of January or beginning of February- can't remember exactly when- I did my first Tokyo all-nighter.

I'd had the opportunity about a billion times, but usually didn't bother for several reasons. For example, I have a bad habit of drunken flouncing. Also, dislike of being face-raped by Eurotrash in nightclubs. Also, Roppongi is annoying at night and don't let anyone try to convince you that it's not.

So, at the bar one night with four friends, I realized that I had to jet or I'd miss the last train. When one of the guys told me they were going to stay out all night, I paused and thought: hey, I don't even have to be AWAKE until noon tomorrow, let alone at work. Why the fuck not?

After being unceremoniously kicked out of our favourite bar, we went to am-pm for more libations. [A quick note here: I'm sure this point is beyond belaboured, but Japanese convenience stores are wonderful. You can walk in to buy a pack of gum and walk out with a four-course hot meal, a bottle of gin, and a spanking new necktie. Seriously. They have neckties and pantyhose and socks and enough cosmetics to spackle even the most paint-obsessed Harajuku fashion queen. I've seen button-down shirts there. Naturally, it's so that if you spend all night drinking and doing various drinking-related activities, you can cover up the stink of a long evening with some new duds. Of course, the fact that you're barfing on the train cannot be hidden, but...] One of my friends made it his mission to high-five any and all passers-by. Now, this was a pretty interesting social experiment: about half the intended high-five returnees ducked away without even looking. This was more expected behaviour. As for the other fifty percent, I'd say about two-thirds were enthusiastic and amused, and the remaining third slapped, but grouchily. Grouchy high-fiving. Who knew?

We decided to konbini crawl (exactly like a pub crawl) from Kabukicho in Shinjuku over to Shibuya. That's probably a long walk even when one isn't intoxicated. As it was, it took us about five hours. On the way, we had the following adventures:

- Walking by a gas station, we saw a pickup truck. Since we were drunk, this was very exciting, and we spent about twenty minutes arguing with the guy and trying to get him to give us a ride, but he refused to take all four of us. Yes, that's right, he would only take three, and since I was the only girl, I decided to take drunken umbrage and decided he was a sexist pig. But seriously, why only three?

- Skipping through Shibuya in the rain, singing the same three parts of "Don't Stop Believin'" at the top of our lungs. Unfortunately, this is how I lost one of my favourite earrings...

- Snuggle party on the steps of some random train station near Shibuya, a snuggle party that was broken up by an elderly rent-a-cop, who made some very polite, yet very aggrieved gestures that suggested that we take our snuggling elsewhere. Cue my dramatic "CHEESE IT, IT'S THE COPS!" followed by slipping and falling backwards. Despite the fact that I fell onto my back, I managed to hurt my finger. Because I am a talent.

- Melon daiquiri in a can: much better than you think. Much, much better. Too good, in fact.

- I found out that if you have one drunken male friend, he will need to pee every so often. If you have three drunken male friends, they will need to pee almost CONSTANTLY. Were they marking their territory, or did the constant drizzle inspire their constant dribble? This is a very serious anthropological question.

- I came back into myself when I realized I was in McDonald's (a big no-no for me), sitting in the smoking section- and I realized there WAS a smoking section, in one of those HOLY SHIT I LIVE IN JAPAN moments- and that is was seven in the morning.

Yes, I did make it into work on time, but I wasn't exactly...chipper.

I should maybe probably update this thing

...although, as far as I know, here's who reads this blog:

1. Me

2. My ex-boyfriend, because we're tight, yo. Also, I think he has a lot of free time. 'Sup, Ilya?

3. Maybe God, because I have to assume God is paying attention to SOMETHING. It certainly is not preventing beatdowns over his hometown, that's for sure. Oh, wait, that's Jesus. Is God from the Middle East, too? I mean, we don't know for sure that God is Jewish, because it's passed down matrilineally. So Jesus's mom is probably Middle Eastern. You know, Galadriel.

Okay, I'm done.