Thursday, November 11, 2004
Happy joy smile
Today, for the first time, I found myself genuinely wound up by the preponderance of asinine "cutesy" behaviour amongst Japanese women who are, quite frankly, old enough to know better. Take "Hello Kitty," for instance. Piece of trash.
Anyway, I was doing a shift swap, which, for those not in the know, means that I was basically working on my day off, hence I was already feeling somewhat misanthropic. My day was further enlivened by a trip to my surrogate school's voice room, where students can drop in and hang out all day, chatting in English (should they so desire.)
Or they can just behave like infantile fools.
This school's voice room was graced by two particularly fine specimens, one in mid-twenties, the other, I will charitably guess, in late-forties, both interminably giggling like hyenas on nitrous oxide, watching a third hyena having a particularly amusing accident involving an overdose of laxatives and a critical shortage of toilet paper and/or toilets. The very apex of hilarity, basically.
And then the younger one delivered the following hard-hitting verdict on Japanese rice mochi: "I like it."
The insertion of the last cog in the complex machinery of this sententious masterpiece was acknowledged by a nod of the head and a smile so winsome that I wanted to smash her in the face with a tank full of hungry piranhas, before setting about her stomach-churning companion with a pair of bolt-cutters and a wolfhound.
I think I could use a little more sleep.
Anyway, I was doing a shift swap, which, for those not in the know, means that I was basically working on my day off, hence I was already feeling somewhat misanthropic. My day was further enlivened by a trip to my surrogate school's voice room, where students can drop in and hang out all day, chatting in English (should they so desire.)
Or they can just behave like infantile fools.
This school's voice room was graced by two particularly fine specimens, one in mid-twenties, the other, I will charitably guess, in late-forties, both interminably giggling like hyenas on nitrous oxide, watching a third hyena having a particularly amusing accident involving an overdose of laxatives and a critical shortage of toilet paper and/or toilets. The very apex of hilarity, basically.
And then the younger one delivered the following hard-hitting verdict on Japanese rice mochi: "I like it."
The insertion of the last cog in the complex machinery of this sententious masterpiece was acknowledged by a nod of the head and a smile so winsome that I wanted to smash her in the face with a tank full of hungry piranhas, before setting about her stomach-churning companion with a pair of bolt-cutters and a wolfhound.
I think I could use a little more sleep.
