So Here I am.

On the tail end of one of the most amazing weddings I think I have ever witnessed.  It couldn’t have gone better even if it was filmed.  Thanks God, the setting sun’s rays through the trees in the exact moment  Judith walked down the aisle was a nice touch.  Not even messing around, world.  It is only Cliche when it isn’t happening right in front of your eyes.  That is when it becomes something spectacular.

So this weird thing, this “Blog” of sorts that basically equates to my jumped-up, long-winded verbal effluence mixed with a little oregano and pizzazz has meet a 1,500 view statistic this week.  Which I found stambaffelting.  That being said I have some concerns…

ONLY 1500?  Come on America.  I think we can do better than that.  Especially considering that at LEAST 400 of those are my mother.

So I heard a fascinating tid-bit at the local Sprint store this afternoon.  I can get a phone here in the ‘Ca’s (that is the new hip term for “America” which I just made up in my mind) and pay an exorbitant amount of money for an international plan or I can just wait to I get to Japan and get a super snazzy local number.  I say “number”  like it is singular.  There are going to be more numbers following that dial tone than people in Komatsushima who are shorter than I am. But But BUT, phones in Japan are about 5 years ahead of America technologically speaking, and can do more than just communicate.  In Japan I will use my phone to ride subways, use vending machines, make purchases in stores, etc.  That is right, Japan has perfected data field technology, allowing me to walk up to a vending machine, “dial” its number and voila, I am drinking a Pepsi Ice Cucumber.

That wasn’t a typo.  Pepsi makes a beverage in japan that is called Ice Cucumber…but hey, look at the bright side, it is probably somewhat more nutritious than regular soda.  And they also make a soda that has the flavor of Kimchee (fermented cabbage and lots of red peppers)  Sounds yummy…

But yes, once dialed, purchases are just routed to your account and the purchase is completed.  Who wants some crummy international phone when you can have THAT? I’m going to go up to waffle vending machines and pretend that I am a friggin jedi.  Who needs maple syrup when you have the FORCE?

So I can read Japanese now.  At least some of it.  Kanji is still blockading  my way on the corner where perseverance meets success, and beating the crap out of me before I can cross either street.  Instead I’m stuck in the Gaijin cul-de-sac twiddling my thumbs with my good friends Hirigana and ImStillinAmerica feeling the inadequate burn of asphalt scraped knees.  Extended road metaphors are enjoyable.

So I have a confession to make….it turns out I’m not going to Japan.  I have lied to all of you.  It has been a vast and well thought out and well versed conspiracy to lessen interest in the monumental task I will really be participating in.  I felt that Japan, while monumental in its own right, is quelled by some things in this world that are just insurmountably awesome.  The task I have set before myself is one in which I will most likely not return the same.

I’m not messing around either.  I really am not going to Japan.  I made all that up, the plane ticket, the hours of Japanese study, the general interest in all things Japanese quirked and made in the past 30 years have all just been a very elaborate ruse that I used as a potent variety of far more subtle subterfuge.  Subterfuge by definition is the very definition of subtle.  If I am operating on a more subtle version of the very subtle definition of the word subtlety than you have to realize the importance of what I am trying to undertake.

My mom thinks I may in fact be getting married to an Asian woman.  In a way she is right.  My 94 year old Grandma is going to be super mad when she reads these words from her 22″ Mac Book Pro, but they need to be said.

In a way, I am in fact getting hitched to an Asian person.  But NOT a Japanese variety!  What did I tell you??  It was a RUSE.

I manicured that interest to Pink Panther all of your asses into my pants pocket.  Well played Rouge.

Yes, I did intentionally misspell the word RUSE as ROUGE.  If the word itself cannot by an example of its very definition, than how can we trust it to be the right one?  It just so happens Rouge is also the french word for red.

No correlation.

…or is there?

aha!  I hit you again.  You cannot even begin to fathom where I am coming from….or can you?

In all seriousness though.  I am still leaving the country.  I had you led to believe that nothing was standing between me and Japan.  But that wasn’t true.  50 percent of the American land-mass followed by the world’s largest body of water stands between me and Japan right now.

Seriously, brush up on your geography.

The result is still the same however.  I am sorry that I had to trick you.  It was for your own protection.  I can’t let you in on the secret because the person I have to protect you from is your very selves.

But now you can.

I am going to Canada to sell Macaroni and Eye Patches.

There, I said it.  My secret has been released upon the world like a virulent storm of injustice, quelled anger, and discount italian food and pirate head-wear.

forgive me.

Especially since I totally shut my brain off and am pretty sure I have no idea what I just wrote for the past ten minutes.

Ce la vie.

What this all really boils down to, is I’m gonna miss you America, and maybe a nickel or two of your finely crafted American specimens.

anata no koto wo wasuremasen. sayonara

“There is no such thing as a sanity clause, but it would taste good on udon.”  -Groucho Marx-