NOOOOOOOOOOO! Sweet Jesus Noooooooooo!

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,


Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,


Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God


THE TV IS DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO! Why must you always take the good ones?!

And somewhere in the distance, a solitary horn is playing "Taps."

Trust

I don't often get serious. I don't like being serious--it isn't fun. That's not to say that there aren't situations that call for seriousness. Tonight is one of those. There's nothing major going on; I'm just in a contemplative mood.

Hubster and I are trying to get rid of some of our stuff here in Japan that we can't bring back to America. Tonight, we had a gentleman call about 2 of our air conditioners. The air conditioners here are kind of like what you have in a hotel. There is a unit inside the house and a unit outside connected to it via a hose in the wall. The gentleman wanted 2 of our 3 units--woo hoo! However, when these things are moved then they need to be specially installed (hung, charged, etc.) That gets quite expensive. We are selling the units for a low price, but we made sure to put in the ad that the person was responsible for having an HVAC person un-install and then re-install the units at their cost. So said gentleman calls tonight and I can tell he is really driving for a deal--ie was trying to get a discount for buying 2 out of the 3 units. We already had people lined up after him interested in all of the units so we politely said no. Then, we stressed that he needed to contact a company to see how much it would cost to move the units and hook them up. He kind of hemmed and hawed around before saying that his friend had already hooked up one in his house and was going to do it.

DING DING DING! Warning bells went off in my head and I feel bad about it. Maybe his friend really did hook up his air conditioner. Or, maybe he is lying. I mean, I don't want someone coming to my house 1 week before we leave and knocking holes in the wall OR backing out of buying the units. I asked hubster if we could ask for a deposit, and while we could I agree that if I were in the buyer's shoes I don't know if I would want to be giving a stranger money 1 month before I actually get something (and no, there are no such things are checks over here that I know of).

I hate this. I hate that I feel that I can't trust anyone in situations like this. I always feel like I am going to get screwed over. Rather than believing that people are good, there is a huge part of me that screams that I am going going to get the shaft. I don't know why I am like this. Maybe it is because my father is the King of all Skeptics and that has finally rubbed off on me. Or, maybe it is because there are some real assholes out there who prey on other's trust.

Any advice?

I Broked-ed my Gitir

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, the hubster bought me a guitar. I had illusions of grandeur of becoming the next Jewel. Yes, I was going to master the guitar and write a kick-ass song in the process during my time in Japan. Almost five years later, the only kick-ass thing is the amount of dust that has accumulated on top of the guitar case.

All of that is going to change. A few months ago, hubster received a ukulele from his awesome brother. Let me tell you, that thing is addictive! And, it is fairly easy. The thing I hate about learning a new instrument is that I want to be good, but I want to be good NOW! So, coming off the high of being able to play "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "Leaving on a Jet Plane" on the ukulele, I decide to resurrect the guitar. After all, it is pretty hard for "Leaving on a Jet Plane" to sound mournful or sorrowful on a ukulele.

So out comes the guitar case. Okay, some strings are rusty, but so far so good. I manage to play a few chords and am actually having a good time. I had promised hubster that while he was in Tokyo that I would learn a song and things were going fine and dandy. That is, until the guitar decided to revolt. I went to get it out of its case to find that the D string had committed suicide.

Okay, no problem, I'm a woman of the world. I can get a replacement string. Ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha, Aaaaaaaaaaahahahahahhahaha ::wheezes:: ah ha ha ha haa...

I go to the music shop and find the strings all by myself. Then I was faced with the dilemma: acoustic, classical, folk, electric. Shit. I have no idea. It's a guitar. It has 6 strings. I know I don't plug it in, so electric is out. I open a few packages of folk strings--nope, the high E looks like metal and I know mine is nylon. I must have an acoustic guitar! So happy me takes 2 D strings in varying thickness to the register, pays, and is on my merry way.

I trudge home and watch a video about how to re-string a guitar. Okay, first things first, you have to unwind the peg and pull out the old string. Check. Next, pop out the peg at the bottom so that you can stick the end of the string in the hole and place the peg back on top. Uuuuuuuuuuh, Houston, we have a problem. My guitar doesn't have pegs at the bottom. Now that you mention it, the top looks different too. Why? Because I have a classical guitar, not an acoustic one. No problem, you say. Just go back to the store and get another string. Yeah, it usually wouldn't be a problem. But getting to the store for me here in Japan involves a 20 minute walk followed by a 20 minute train ride just to get into town with another 10 minute walk to get to the store. All of that in 90 degree heat? That plan can kiss my fat white butt.

Hubster makes it back from Tokyo, I sing "Leaving on a Jet Plane" for him on the ukulele, he's amused and then drives me to the mall for my new string. Twenty minutes and a few cuss words later, my guitar string is fixed and I am back to trying to learn while getting beginner's divots in my fingers.

I know that the welts will go away with time and the switching between chords will get easier, but it's hard to wait that long :-( I guess practice really does make perfect...damnit.

Sick as a Dog :-(

I know that I said I would do a post a day, and already within 5 days I have broken my word. I'm sorry :-( At least I have a good excuse. About 3 weeks ago I got a cold. Well, said cold decided to hang around and camp out in my sinuses. Today I finally gave in and went to the ear/nose/throat doctor. He took one look in my ear and said, "holy crap, what did you do?!" Actually, he said something in Japanese but it roughly translated to the above.

So, sorry I haven't posted anything. For your enjoyment, here is a picture of the pills I had to take at dinner. Yeah, the Japanese are big on prescribing pills. At least the medical bills are cheap here.

Seeing Things From a Different Point of View

Over the years I have felt like any creativity that I once had has since vanished to the black hole of Calcutta and didn't leave a forwarding address. Why is it gone? I don't know. It could be because of working for corporate America where all sense of creativity and humanity is squashed in the quest for the all-mighty dollar (yay capitalism!). Or, it could be because I care too much about what people think and don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

But, I digress...

I find that I envy and applaud people who are able to break away from the norm and follow the beat of their own drum. (Now, we're talking about breaking away within reason, I'm not clapping for Charles Manson here or anything.) In fact, one of the reasons that I wanted to become a teacher and focus on the elementary level is because children have an amazing amount of innocence and wonder. That, and I want to form my own army of minions.

Browsing through some news today online, I came across a few videos that made me marvel at their brilliance. These clips are just movie trailers, but the editors have redone them to reflect that movie but in a different genre. Not only are they well thought out, but they are actually well made (a rarity in today's world where anyone can make a video and call themselves an editor).

So, to you who are able to think outside of the box, I salute you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2T5_0AGdFic

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmkVWuP_sO0&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uwuLxrv8jY


*I know there are a lot more out there, but these are just a few of my favorites. Do you have any recommendations?

Don't Touch My Hamburger Sushi!

Today, the hubster and I went out for sushi. Our favorite place is one of those sushi conveyor belt restaurants where you pick a plate with what you want on it off the line.

I will be the first to admit that I am a wuss when it comes to eating sushi--I don't do raw. Basically, I stick to cucumber rolls, grilled shrimp, crab, and hamburger. Yes, that's right. In Japan, we have hamburger sushi. Think of it as a little salisbury steak patty with sauce and mayo on a rice base.

Back to the story. My husband and I were sitting in the restaurant getting our sushi on. At this restaurant, you can order dishes if you don't see what you want on the conveyor belt. Your order then comes out behind a number that reflects your table so that everyone knows the dishes that follow on the raised plates are yours.

We're sitting there, enjoying our day and talking when we see our order coming around on the other side of the belt. When our order comes around to us I see cucumber, shrimp, shrimp, missing plate, hamburger, crab, crab. What in the hell?! Somebody freakin' took my hamburger sushi!

Hubster decided to go on a recognisance mission and found that the table in front of ours (which the conveyor belt reaches first) had two adorable children at it, one of which was eating hamburger sushi. Oooooooooooooooooh snap!

Before you judge me and say, "But, one of the little kids probably took the plate by accident," let me inform you that the mother and father were sitting next to the conveyor. Yup, that means that good old Mom and Dad who were clearly old enough to read and understand the rules of conveyor belt sushi stole my hamburger sushi.

I know it was just a plate of hamburger sushi; it's not like it was a plate of gold. By my God it is the principle of the thing. Don't touch my hamburger sushi or I'll poke your eye out with my chopsticks, damn hamburglers.

That is all.

Whoever Said 30 is the New 20 Should be Shot

I find it ironic that you spend your whole adolescent life wanting to be older. At first, you want to be 16 so that you can drive. If you are in to politics, then you can't wait to be 18 to vote. Most of us just wanted to hit 21 so that we could legally drink. However, I don't hear anyone going, "YIPEEEEEE! I'M 30!!!!!!! Whoo hoo, in YOUR face! Neener!"

I've tried to accept my adventure into a new decade with grace and dignity. But let me tell you now, 30 sucks. Case in point--after only 3.5 hours of sleep last night, the hubster and I decide to go out on a day trek through the wilderness. About 10 years ago I would have been able to do this and still come home, write a 10 page paper, bake a 7-course dinner, run 2 miles, and find the cure for cancer.

Now?


My back hurts.

My feet hurt.

Even my butt hurts.

And it's 7pm and I am ready for bed.

Yeah 30, you rock my world...not.

I Don't Care Who You Are, That There's Precious

My husband and I have two toy poodles named Yuki (a girl) and Chewie (a boy). We got Yuki first and she is more the size of a true toy poodle. She is very smart and also very stubborn; I like to think that she takes after me :-) and if life were like the movie Revenge of the Nerds, then Yuki would definitely be a member of Omega Mu.

Chewie, on the other hand, is more the size of a small miniature poodle. He is Yuki's polar opposite. Basically, he is a doofus and only has two moods--happy and scared. I like to think that he takes after my husband :-) (just kidding baby). Chewie definitely belongs in the Alpha Beta house. He's definitely more athletic and dumb as a bag of bricks. Come to think of it, he is also a little cross-eyed just like Ogre (but is a nicer version of Ogre).

Chewie adores Yuki. He can't get enough of her. Yuki, however, is literally and figuratively a little bitch and will often growl at Chewie if he gets too close. Don't get me wrong, they get along fine and often play together, but you won't likely catch them sleeping in the same doggie bed.

So, imagine my surprise this morning when I turn around and see this...

No barking, not even growling. Just pure unadulterated cuteness radiating from these two. Seconds after taking the above shot, they decide to do this...

Altogether now....awwwwwwwwwwwwww. I felt such bliss at my two furry babies getting along and being so good.

Too bad Chewie had to go and roll in poop about an hour later. Well, I guess it's true what they say--sh*t happens.

You've Got to Start Somewhere

Welcome ye weary internet travelers to Mentally Constipated. If you are reading this, then you are either searching for information on insane asylums, are constipated, are insane and constipated, or are my mother (Hi Mom! Thanks for the support). Or, perhaps you have just luckily stumbled onto my little abode here. Either way, welcome all to my attempt to regain my own sense of self-being.

In my long 30 years on this planet, I have learned a few important things. First, you should never lose the ability to laugh. Whether it is a little chuckle, or the often-elusive belly laugh, humor has amazing and magical properties. In fact, I believe that laughter may be what gives Chuck Norris his incredible powers. Second, life is too short to be unhappy. We only get one turn on this crazy ride, so what is the point in being miserable (not to say that I haven't had my fair share of good cry-fests). And finally, Taco Bell makes some damn good, and cheap, tacos. Plus, they are open 24-hours. Sweeeeeeeeet!

If you've made it this far, then you might be thinking to yourself, "Why does this girl have a blog, and has anyone informed the mental ward that she has chewed threw her restraints and escaped?" Good questions. The other night I spent over an hour typing a very precise and witty entry in which I answered not only these questions, but I also divulged the meaning of life; but wouldn't you know it, as soon as I went to post said entry the whole thing disappeared. We're talking poof begone! Divine intervention? Those bastard computer gnomes who like to eat my files (you may have heard of their cousins who live in dryers and eat socks). Either way, the internet can be a cruel be-yotch and so here I am starting over again.

What is this idea of mental constipation that I seem to be repeating? Well, it's pretty self-explanatory. I like to compare my mental capacity and output to The Simpsons. When I was young, my brain was experimenting and finding its footing. Then, it hit a good stride for about 10 years or so where it was quick, witty, and beloved by all. Those were the glory years before it decided to jump the shark and start a dismal descent into the abyss of suckiness. This, my dear readers, is exactly how I feel. I did well in school and I loved college. However since I graduated, I have slowly felt my brain turning into a lump of oatmeal. No sugar, no milk, no cinnamon, nothing. Just plain, gummy, clumpy grey oatmeal sitting in the bottom of the bowl that no one wants to touch with a 10-foot poll. Being a pile oatmeal that just gets pushed around a bowl sucks, so to try and counteract this I started this blog.

They say that the brain is a muscle, and like any muscle it needs to be exercised. Well, considering the state of the rest of my body, it is safe to say that my brain is pretty much screwed. I think it is a safe bet that that my brain has probably plopped its fat, lazy lobes on a beanbag up there in my cranium and is shoving Grandma Utz potato chips in its mouth, just munching away and not caring about the crumbs that are falling in the orange shag carpeting that were once synapses and nerves. The situation has gotten so dire that I think Richard Simmons is planning on holding an intervention.

My hope is to use this blog daily to post about whatever is going through my head and get my lazy brain's ass up and moving. Whether it is about a video I am working on, or what I did that day, or the fact that I am 30 and I just painted my toenails black, then I plan on blogging about it just to make my brain work on something. Somehow, I need to get out of this funk because I am tired of opening my mouth and only having, "wekrjsl asiurw edsj erkjzs wea sd g y rfrry @fnyk*ay$" come out. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be talking with someone and suddenly spit out an asterisk or dollar sign?

So that dear reader is a little glimpse into why I am writing this. Hopefully over the following entries you will not get too bored/scared and will stick around for the journey. Even though this blog is for my own personal need of a sounding board, I always welcome passengers to come along for the ride.


Oh, as for the meaning of life? Yeah, I've forgotten. Having a bad memory is just one side-effect of being mentally constipated :-p