A whole new adventure

I really need to keep this up more often.

My trip is less than two months away- and I'm in debt. Now that I'm eighteen, and my parents have found out about me joining the military, they don't pay for jack shit. Health insurance, car insurance, car note, car repairs (and there are a lot of those), cell phone bill, gas- I pay all of my own stuff now. I'm lucky that they don't make me pay rent. It doesn't help that I got so pissed at my IHOP boss a few weeks ago that I told her to her face that she could shove her pancakes up her ass, and that I quit. I ripped my apron off, shoved it at her, and walked right out the door. I don't think SEX has ever felt that good.

*mumble* Not that I would know..... *sigh* Virginity sucks.

Anyway- with one less job, I decided to take the easy way out and just pull double shifts at cane's. You get paid out the ass for overtime at cane's, and it's not like I wasn't accustomed to the work. HOWEVER, the monotony of being at one workplace, seeing the same damn dumb people every day and doing the same menial tasks over and over.... It really wears on a person. I would close one night, clean everyting in that place and get out of there around three in the morning- then have to be back there less than six hours later to re-open everything and start another day. Nowadays, with work and general insomnia, I'm lucky to get five hours of sleep a week.

What really wears on me are the people I work with. I work with a much tighter group than at the theater; at any given time, there were no less than thirty to thirty five people working at my movie theater. At cane's, there might only be you, the manager, and three other workers tops. Therefore, you get to know your coworkers a lot better- and a lot quicker than you normally would. There's a guy there, one that I really like, who's kind and thoughtful, and helps me lift heavy boxes even if I don't ask him to. He's the All-Around Nice Guy, guys that you don't come across everyday. He likes me, too, and he's even started ksising me Hello and Goodbye on the cheek when we happen to work together. However, we've both decided that it's not wise to date eachother when we both work for the same place; it could cause all kinds of complications that neither of us need.

Then, there's this other guy. He's rude, self-centered, narcissistic, sarcastic, and a total jackass. He's just nice enough to everyone enough so that they don't resent him. Instead, he's viewed as a sort of Top Dog of the place, and everyone listens to him. Except me. I summed him up as a jerk right after we met. I had just started there, and it was the first time I had even seen him. Being naive, my first thought was of how cute he was- then I saw him stealing food. He had a handful of fries in one hand, and his back turned to the security camera. I told him. "You're going to get into trouble."
His answer? "No I'm not. You might, though."
However, when I was about to ask him what he meant, we both heard the manager's footsteps getting closer. Instantly, he grabbed my chin and gripped it realy hard, so that my teeth cut into the inside of my cheeks and said, "Open your mouth."
My thoughts instantly shifted from, "He's kinda cute," to "This mothafucka's NUTS!"
I made the mistake of opening my mouth to ask him what the fuck he was thinking- and before I could even take a breath, he popped the rest of those french fries into my mouth and hurried away.
Right then, the manager rounded the corner, and looked right at me. "Having a good shift so far, Pandora?" he asked innocently.
I nodded and smiled, hoping that would be sufficient, but then the manager narrowed his eyes and said, "Do you have anything in your mouth...?"

Have you ever had to swallow four Idaho french fries whole to avoid being fired your third day on the job?
I did.

After that, I decided that that guy was NOT someone I wanted to be friendly to. I'll call him Brewsky. He likes to boast about how much he drinks and how much pot he does, when he's really just a spoiled brat who has his mommy pay for everything.

The guy I like, I'll call him Apollo. He's so incredibly polite and smart, and he jokes around with me without being crude like other guys. Every time I've asked him to do something for me, no matter how big or small, he does it for me without question. He's a totally All-American Good Guy and I enjoy every minute I spend with him. Unfortunately, Bresky found out about us. I guess in such close quarters, it really wasn't too hard to guess, but as shift manager, I had taken great pains to make sure that the two of them were never scheduled to work at the same time- or if they were, I was off that day. I kept that up for several weeks, until one of the other managers granted Brewsky permission to take on some extra shifts- shifts that I had painstakingly arranged so that Apollo and I could work alone in the kitchen. Instead, it would wind up being me, Apollo, and the jackass of the year- alone in the kitchen, working within feet of eachother.

Barely a week ago, such a night transpired, and it happened to be the night Brewsky found out about Apollo and I. Now, bear in mind that I'm sure the rest of the crew knew about how he and I felt about each other- they just had the decency not to mention it. However, Brewsky lacks that subtlety. As soon as I walked in the door, Apollo helped me out of my coat, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I had barely smiled when Brewsky popped from around the corner, looked between Apollo and I and gave an INSANELY LOUD wolf-whistle and said, "Stop that you two- we have cameras watching. Unless you two are secret voyers? Tsk tsk..." Everyone else in the kitchen giggled and I was MORTIFIED.

Apollo and I managed to have a semi-normal shift together, aside from Brewsy's occasional inappropriate comments. But whenever Apollo had to go to the back, Brewsky would either follow him and they would spend WAY too much time back there for my comfort, or he would stay with me- and say stuff like, "It's pathetic the way you run after him, I thought you were better than that." "You're totally not his type- an independent girl who pretends to be helpless is a total turn-off," "If I were him, I'd be laughing at you." I told him off every time, but he kept at it, until I finally said that it didn't matter WHAT he said to me, or how much he tried to get under my skin, because the fact remained that at the end of the day, when Apollo helped me ito my jacket and walked me to my car, and kissed me goodbye on the cheek- when the day was over, it was Apollo I was going to be thinking of and how wonderful he was, not Brewsky and his childish jokes. That seemed to shut him up for a while, then the unthinkable happened.

When all three of us were in the kitchen not too long after that, Apollo had just changed out the bird cart, meaning he had replaced the empty bin with a fresh bin full of raw chicken strips soaking in marinade solution. These bins are each about as large and heavy as a medium-sized television set, and they're a bitch to move and replace. Unfortunately, as soon as Apollo had replaced the empty one with a fresh one, Brewsky told one of the other crew members to clean the bird cart- meaning that Apollo had to take out the bin he had just struggled to lift and place to begin with. I glared at Brewsky- I knew he was doing that on purpose, but he just grinned. Then- as Apollo was lifting the giant bin of chicken, Brewsky yanked the table out from beneath it, making it tip forward. To try and save the chicken, Apollo kicked his knee up to hit the underside of the bin to tilt it back, but he hit it too hard, knocking himself off-balance, and the bird bin spilled all over him. He was slathered with raw strips of chicken, bits of chicken fat, and gallons of chicken juice and marinade solution.

To say that I was shocked and appalled is a complete understatement, but above all, I was disgusted that Brewsky would do something like that. While Brewsky and the rest of the crew laughed, and I knelt by Apollo to help him and clean him up, I was suprised to see that Apollo was laughing along with them, albeit a bit embarassedly. I was impressed to see that he was such a good sport about it; if I were in his place, to have someone do something like that to me, I admit that i would have either flared in anger or broken down crying. But Apollo- he just stood up, took the towel I offered him to wipe his face and laughed and said, "I guess I should be more careful next time."

I took command, and got one of the stronger crew members to replace the now empty bin while two others cleaned up the fluid and chicken pieces off the floor. Strangely, Brewsky led Apollo out back to "get him cleaned up." I was constrained as a manager, and I had to make sure everything in the kitchen was back up to the health code before I could check on Apollo, but as soon as I was sure that everything was sanitized and bleached back to standard, I put someone else in charge and ran out back. Much to my displeasure, the only one I saw out there was Brewsky, and for a moment I was dissappointed, thinking that Apollo had gone home. Then I heard running water, and saw a stream of water running from the backhouse- where the dumpsters were- to the street drain, and then I realised that Apollo was using the hose to rinse himself off. Brewsky made some snide comment about missing him, and I told him that he was needed inside. Once he went through the door, I used the headset I was wearing for drive-thru to tell a girl at the register to keep Brewsky inside. I knew she liked him- and was a huge motormouth- so with her constant chatter she'd be able to keep him preoccupied for at least twenty minutes.

This is where it gets a bit fangirl-ish, and perhaps a bit romanticized, but I SWEAR this is how I remember it happening. Maybe it's a bit skewed in my memory, since I'm a girl, and the guy in question is the guy I have a huge crush on, but I don't care.

I walked around the backhouse door- and I see Apollo bent over, back to me, totally shirtless and stripped to his shorts, running the hose over his head and back. I've seen other guys shirtless before, and I've had crushes before- but my GOD if you had seen him there like I had, you would know why I named him Apollo. He must have heard me, because he turned around and it was almost funny how he tried to cover himself while he apologized for his appearance. I laughed and told him it wasn't his fault- and that I would have to talk to Brewsky about his behavior. Apollo's response? "What are you talking about? That was an acident. I have to be more careful."

Sometimes it's cute how naive he is.

I showed him the two extra towels I had filched from the supply closet and he called me his "life-saver". I even got to take the hose and help him rinse off- and then dry him with the towels I had. I hate to be such a girly-girl, but getting the chance to rinse and dry such a toned body after a LIFETIME OF ALL GIRLS SCHOOL, I simply could have died of happiness.

Naturally, if catholic taught me anything, the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

I had barely had ten minutes alone with my dream guy and then the jackass had to make his appearance again, saying that he wasn't needed inside, and that if I wanted to spend time alone with Apollo I would have to at least take him to the back of my car like a normal over-sexed teenage girl. I told him that I wasn't that kind of girl, and Apollo got between us, saying that he was dry now, and asking Brewsky to escort me back inside, and to return to the backhouse with his clothes for him. So, Brewsky walked me back inside- and actually had the nerve to ask me, "What do you see in that guy, anyway?"

I couldn't believe that! Anyone with eyes can see what a great guy Apollo is. Right before I went inside, I tossed Apollo's clothes at Brewsky from where they were on the chair outside and I snapped at him, "Because he's everything you're not." and I went inside.

Since then, his mother made him quit to get his grades up (ha!), but from what I read on the scheduling list, he's due to start back next week. Normally, I'm not one to show open disgust for a fellow human being, but this guy really wears on my last nerve. The only thing keeping me going- and pulling 70 hour weeks at a fast food chicken place is my upcoming trip to Japan...

.......and my reunion with Fujiomi.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH

GOOD. GOD. Has it really been so long?!?!

To make a really, really, REALLY long story slightly shorter, I'm STILL NOT back in Japan living with my old host family. Not yet. But, I think I still have to get used to being home before I can go back to the Land fo the Rising Sun. The reverse culture shock was scarring. As soon as I got back, I tried (TRIED) to eat a lot of the food I had missed while I was in Japan-- shrimp po' boys, crawfish etoufee, jambalaya- but I simply couldn't. I mean, when you combine the daily fish-and-rice diet with Washington D.c.'s fat-free obsession, I haven't eaten real food in going on a YEAR. So when I finally got back home to New Orleans, all the good home cookin' tasted like flaming seafood waste. I used to LIKE spicy, flavorful food. Now-- I weep at the thought of what's happened to my taste buds.

Also, I was supposed to be in Japan as soon as my stint in Washington D.c. was over, but that had to get fucked up, too. My parents, who were none too keen on me going to Japan in the FIRST place, refused to pay for me to go a second time. Plus, my trip to Yaoi-con in San Francisco cost me quite a bundle, too. So-- that meant little Pandora had to conjure up quite a sum of money on her own, and she didn't have too much time to do it.

I had to get a job.

Or, to be more specific, THREE jobs.

Have you forgotten what kind of over-acheiver you're dealing with?

That's right, bitches, THREE jobs. I was a hostess at IHOP, a ticket taker at my local movie theater, and an over-night stock girl at Walgreens. I got about three to four hours of sleep a day between jobs, and my car guzzles gas like it has nothing better to do. Everyone always asked me, "What's a young girl like yourself doing working so hard?" Finally, after getting NO SLEEP and not bothering to tell my whole story, my answer had become a terse, "I wanna go to Japan."

I'll tell you this: it's NOT easy. There are SO MANY TIMES I wish I could be a normal teenager and go out with my friends, and buy clothes and makeup and nice things. It's taken a LOT of effort on my part not to strangle the bitchy girls that come into IHOP at two in the morning and boss me around, or brutally beat down the annoying twelve-year-old brats that try to sneak into R-rated movies at the theater.

And in case you haven't noticed: TIME STOPS AT IHOP. Next time you go, make sure to notice what time you go in. Do the same when you leave. It might FEEL like your meal took you two hours, but I'll be damned if it wasn't only 35 minutes.

OMFG-- I didn't really work there that long, but MY GOD, I already have horror stories.

First of all, the menus there should be classified as deadly weapons. They are laminated to the point of RAZOR SHARP EDGES. Trust me, there were many times where I considered taking one to my wrists and ending it all. Fortunately, the customers have a special way to protect themselves from menu cuts. Neither the servers* nor I are quite sure how it happens, but before the customers even ORDER, they already manage to get gobs of syrup on their hands, thus coating over the deadly menus quite welll. Needless to say, this causes quite a few problems for us, the workers.

*I'm not sure about the neck of the woods you live in, but if you accidentally call a server a "waiter" or a "waitress" here, they get SO offended. Apparently gender differentiation is a crime now, so instead of titles like "waiter" or "waitress", they decided to make the job titles unisex and call them "servers". I don't really see what kind of difference it makes, because at the end of the day, you still serve crappy food to mean people and get paid peanuts, just like a waitress. Just sayin'.

Not ONLY do we unknowingly pick up these menus, only to feel sticky, warm syrup on our hands, if the customers somehow manage to get syrup on the inside of the menus, and we don't notice, and we then give those menus to other customers, they get mad at US, like we purposely splayed heaps of maple syrup on the inside of their menu as a sick joke. Besides, cleaning those menus is a sucidal job. Armed with only a damp, 8-year-old wash rag, you have to clean off GALLONS of syrup off each individual page whilst trying to avoid slicing your hand open on the edges. Not an easy task, to say the least.

ALSO- if you HONESTLY expect the food you order to actually look like the picture: your standards are too high. Because with eight Mexicans squeezed into a 10'x6' "kitchen", all trying to churn out a dozen tables' worth of food at once, and considering the fact that each cook makes each dish differently from the next-- there's no way in hell it's gonna look like the wax model in that picture on the menu. If your standards are THAT high, you shouldn't be eating at IHOP. At least three times a day, I had bitchy old women or mean old men calling me over saying that what they got wasn't what they ordered.

Me: Okay- what did you order?
Them: The blueberry crepe/breakfast sampler/Happy Face Pancake
Me: *looks at plate and sees said menu item* Yup- that's what you have
Them: That's not what it looks like in the picture!!!!

And there would be people whose ENTIRE DAY would be ruined because they were dissappointed in the food/service/table they got. They would storm out in an ANGRY RAGE, hollering and screaming at anyone who could hear that this just ruined their WHOLE DAY, and they were NEVER coming back to IHOP EVER!!! EVERRRR!!!

Like I care. Go cry, emo kid.

Our FAVORITE people to serve were people to had to be at the AIRPORT. Apparently, because they had to be on their flight in half an hour (I'm not kidding you), they thought they could just get booted to the top of the wait list, have go-speed-racer-go service, and make it out in time to fly to Timbucktoo. I wanted to SHAKE THEM and scream, "HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN TO AN AIRPORT BEFORE?!?! Why aren't you already THERE if your flight leaves in thirty minutes?! Between checking your bags and security, you should have been there an HOUR ago!!"

I think the worst part of working there, though, was that I was a hostess. Not a server, no. A hostess. Which means I didn't make tips. Even though I took To-Go orders*, dealt with people's shit, shipped food out for servers, and sang that damned IHOP HAPPY BIRTHDAY song so much I heard it in my sleep, I got paid crap.

*A separate rant about To-Go orders and answering the phone at IHOP:
We hate To-Go orders. I'm sure this is true for WHATEVER restraunt around you that offers Pick-Up and To-Go as well. WE HATE IT. People that work there RUN from the phone when it rings. Because when the phone rigs, we know it could be a fellow worker, calling to say they'll be late, OR it might be yet ANOTHER person wanting detailed directions on how to get to IHOP from their work/house/insane asylum (No joke- someone called from the local nut house wanting to know how to get to IHOP. He had just been released and was craving pancakes. Go figure. I gave him directions to the IHOP down the street, just to be safe.). However, we'd rather not take that chance, in case it turns out to be someone wanting to place a To-Go order. On my second day on the job, I was standing at the podium, minding my own business, when the phone rang. A server, standing RIGHT NEXT TO THE PHONE, looks at it ringing, looks at me- expecting her to answer it- and then looks down at the floor and says, "Oh- my foot is on fire!" and RUNS to the kitchen.

When you call, you BETTER KNOW what you want, and NO, I will NOT describe everything on the menu to you and how much it costs because I have an actual JOB to do. I was just nice/naive enough to answer this phone and take the time to take your order. Also, when we SAY "It will be about __ minutes until your food is ready." DON'T WAIT that amount of time to LEAVE YOUR HOUSE. Because after your food is made, it waits up front in a bag with your name on it until you pick it up. So, if you show up TWO HOURS LATER, and your food is cold, that's your own damned fault. And if we forgot anything, or if something is slightly askew, don't bitch. Just tell us, we'll fix it. All you have to bear in mind is that while you were watching Seinfeld re-runs and slipping on your Reeboks to pick up your food, I was dealing with four crying children, a deaf person wanting to order half the menu in sign language, and three old ladies asking when their iced tea would be ready. AND TIP THE PERSON WHO TOOK YOUR ORDER. They TOOK THE TIME (or, more likely, were abandoned at that phone and forced) to take your order and make sure that it was right and fairly fresh when you came to get it. TIP THEM. TIP THEM WELL.

My other job at the movie theater has it's own set of problems. It seems like only the most ignorant people go to the movie theater. Even though we have GIANT GLOWING SIGNS everywhere, it's like these people are completely oblivious as to what we sell and how much it costs.

You would be suprised at some of the dumb questions we get asked. We have twenty screens in our megaplex (ten on one side, ten on the other) and we understand, when you're in a labrynth of movie screens, no matter what side of the theater you're on, it all begins to look the same, especially to kids. We understand this. Now- MOST people would take the TIME to LOOK at their movie stubs and say, "Gee- my movie is in screen two." then proceed to the right, where it says "Screens 1-10" and go to their movie, enjoy it quietly, then leave.

These are not the people that come to our movie theater.

We seem to attract the deaf, blind, bowlegged, unemployed crowd.

Now, when you work at a movie theater, you're never assigned to just one job, like ticket taker or concessions worker. You're trained for everything, and when the management sees what you're best at, that's where you usually get stuck nine out of ten times. For me, it was ticket taker. This was mostly due to the fact that I was one of TWO people that stopped underage kids from going into R-rated movies. Between the new Halloween coming out, Good luck chuck, Saw 4, Kingdom, American Gangster, etc. etc-- just about EVERY movie that has come out recently has been rated R. Don't ask me why, it's not my fault. However, I WILL stop the little bastards that try to sneak in. They all look and act the same, too. The girls are usually a bit more descreet about it, but the boys are just fucking morons. When a group of rambunctious thirteen year old boys all buy tickets for Hairspray-- I KNOW they're not going to see a fat chick from the 60's bopping around and jiggling her fat ass to Broadway show-tunes. They're gonna try to sneak in and see something they shouldn't. Which, I admit, I've done, too. Everyone has. Because of this, the younger workers at the movie theater tend to let the kids slide, and generally- as long as the kids aren't acting up or being obnoxious brats, me and the others will let them slide, too. They're not being loud, they're not bugging anyone. Let them scare themselves shitless if they want. I did, when I was that age.

But when I get a group of eight or nine kids, all yelling and cutting up, handing me tickets to Hostel that I SAW them buy at the automatic ticket machine with Mommy's credit card- No. I'm not letting them in. Even if the parents that tried to drop them off bitch and bitch, "I give them permission- why can't they see it?!" I don't care. The LAW SAYS that for a rated-R movie, anyone under the age of 17 has to be accompanied by a parent or legal guardian age 21 or over.

Other than people that randomly bitch at you about people talking in screen 12 (Like I can do anything about that), or wanting a refund for their movie from you (Sure, let me whip your money right out of my ass), you really just stand there, completely isolated from everyone else by your podium, and deal with the same dumbness over and over again. For instance, no matter what the weather is, about half the people that pass you feel the need to comment on it in some way. After hearing "Is sure is hot/cold/rainy/sunny today, huh?" a MILLION times, it all becomes the same mind-numbing drivel. Now, when you work ticket drop, all you do is tear tickets, give people their stubs, and tell them which side their theater is on.
"Screen one on your right."
"Screen thirteen on your left."
Etc.

EVEN THOUGH, we give them directions, as soon as they pass us, they hold their ticket stubs, and look around so pathetic and lost before ASKING you where their theater is. There are MANY times where we want to scream, "I ALREADY TOLD YOU!! WHY WEREN'T YOU LISTENING?!?!" And really, it's the little things that piss us off. We KNOW we don't really have a hard job, and YES, we ARE getting paid to do it, but still- there are a lot of little things that the customers could do to not be such fucking dumbasses. For one-- if you are accompanied by your husband, mother, father, mother in-law, father in-law, and a litter of nine hyperactive children-- DON'T pass every single person in your crowd their own individual ticket. Just hand me the stack, I'll tear them all at once, and the whole group of you can go in. I'll take your word for it that there're enough tickets. I really do not care enough to count them. Another thing- don't pre-bend, pre-tear, crumple, fold, or put your tickets in your MOUTH before handing them to me- and please hand them to ME, instead of placing them on my podium and walking away. Also- and this is just common courtesy- if you smell of rotten fish, wet dog, or used dental tools- DON'T walk right next to me, stop, and try to talk to me. YOU SMELL. GO AWAY. And this is a tip for ALL of you-- when you WORK at the movie theater, you NEVER have time to SEE a movie. I don't know if you like to go into YOUR office on your off-days for the fun of it, but I don't. So don't ask me if I've seen the movie you happen to be going to, because chances are, I haven't. Now go away, you're holding up the line.

Now, that's just ticket taker. When you're an usher, your job description gets a LOT more interesting. When you're an usher, normally, when a show lets out, you go clean it. This is no small job, and believe me, we find a LOT of things in those theaters that we don't exactly sell at concessions. Starbucks, Arby's, and booze bottles are the top three things we find. We found an UNOPENED BOTTLE of Pinot Grigio stashed beneath a seat. The managers took it for "classifying and storage" and we haven't seen it since. Other than that, your job as an usher is to pick up the millions of napkins, the spilled nacho cheese, the popcorn thrown EVERYWHERE, the drinks and Icees spilled EVERYWHERE- and even the human excrement occasionally left behind. For example- for the scarier movies, it's actually quite common for a seat or two to REEK of piss. Not that Hint O' Piss, like someone who couldn't hold it, but didn't want to miss any of the movie, leaked some out before finally running to the bathroom and running back. NO. It's like TWO OR THREE PEOPLE TOTALLY RELIEVED THEMSELVES ALL OVER THESE SEATS. The weird part is, we don't even smell the piss first. We smell perfume. Yes- these people PISS ON OUR SEATS, then try to cover it up using whatever kind of perfume or cologne they have on hand. So, when we go into a screen where the air is SATURATED with Axe or Obsession- the more experienced veterans tend to send in the newer workers, and stand back while the noobs clean the screens, eventually finding the source of the piss, and then shrieking in horror.

There was also one case- ONE, LEGENDARY case- of a kid shitting on a wall.

I had been working there about a month, when I was walking along with one of the more popular managers. He's young, really cool, and is like the wise older brother to just about everyone that works there. As we pass one of the bigger screens, we see an usher stumble out and slam the door shut.

Manager: Hey- don't slam the door while the movie's going! What's wrong with you?
Usher: Dude.....I went in there to check, y'know, making rounds....Someone....shat...on the wall.
Manager:......................What?
Usher: I don't know-- but someone SHAT. On. The wall.
Manager:..........
Me:...........
Manager: No way. I don't believe you.
Usher: I'm so dead serious. Just walk through that door, man.

Sure enough, the manager OPENS the door, goes to take one step in, then slams the door shut with the most DISGUSTED look on his face. I didn't look for myself, but when he slammed the door shut, a gust of wind blew in my direction and I SMELLED it.

I wanted to remove my nasal cavity entirely, it was that bad.

Apparently, we found out later, some kid had to go REALLY BAD, ran out the movie theater, and as he was going down the hall- he didn't even make it to the DOOR- he pulled down his pants and projectile shit all over the wall. We never found out who it was, but I made sure to dissappear when they were hunting down people to clean it.

Also, when you're an usher, you're responsible for removing people who are creating "disturbances". Talking on cell phones, crying children, kids running up and down the stairs-- it pisses other people off. Stop it. Though techinically only a manager can remove a guest, when it's a busy Friday or Saturday night, and the theater is packed with about fifteen hundred people, the managers tend to turn a blind eye to whatever the regular workers do, as long as the work gets done. So if we snap back at an annoying guest, or kick some kids out, if the managers didn't see it- or sometimes, even if they did- it didn't happen. Now, because I'm one of the few that ENJOY kicking out kids, the managers will occasionally form a small squad out of the ushers and use us specifically to kick out kids. They're called Excursions, when they call us on the walkie, give us a brief description of the kids, and tell us what area they're in. These kids are fucking NINJAS, too. Most of them aren't satisfied with sneaking into one movie and sitting down to watch it. Oh, no. They movie-hop, from one screen to another, from one end of the theater to the other, all over the damn place. The only thing with that is, the kids that pull this shit tend to wear the most obnoxiously obvious clothes ever. So when my manager tells me to kick out the kid with Rainbow Brite streaks in his hair, blue and red striped pants, and neon green converse sneakers-- that kind of narrows it down a bit. One kid was dumb enough to wear a GLOW IN THE DARK shirt. Do you know how ABSURDLY EASY it was to find that kid?! In a pitch black movie theater?!

I suppose one of the easiest and most entertaining jobs is projection. Now, the people that work in projection are all pale as death, incredibly thin, and slightly off-kilter. There's one kid there that looks like a blonde Harry Potter, who does nothing but watch Futurama re-runs on his laptop. I haven't been trained there yet, but when there's nothing to do, it's fun to go hang out up there and see what the people up there are doing. On a really busy night, it's SO FUN to just look down from our little window, and see what the audience is doing. Actually, the projection people are the ones with the MOST interesting stories. They've seen a lot of people do a lot of stupid things in those theaters when they thought no one was looking. Most of it, of course, is sex-related. I myself have been witness to quite a few teenage blow-jobs at the top row of the theater. Trust me, if you're standing in that window with a laser pointer, like I am, there's no limit to the fun you could have.

One time, I was working ticket-taker and I saw this 14 year old girl and a guy about the same age- OBVIOUSLY on their first date. We employees ALWAYS know, and we think it's adorable. The girl in THIS case, though, was a complete hussy, and the poor guy obviously hadn't realised it yet. I made sure to remember what screen they were going to be in, and when I went on my break 20 minutes later, I went to projection and stood at that window. Sure enough-- that couple was in the third row from the top. The previews had just ended, and the guy pulled the patented "Yawn, Stretch, and Slowly Put Your Arm Around the Girl's Shoulders" move. It was so classic, and he pulled it off so well, I almost wanted to clap. The girl, though, moved much faster, and immediately put the arm-rest up and cuddled next to him. Damn harpy. Within TWO MINUTES- she turned to kiss him! I'm thinking- You SLUT!! The opening credits aren't even over!! At least make him WORK for it! She turns, he turns, and I whip out my laser pointer and aim. The first time- I hit her cheek with the pointer. The guy stops, pulls away, and I turn off the laser. Though I can't actually hear what's being said, I can guess by their reactions.

Girl: What's wrong?
Guy: Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw something on your cheek.
Girl: Oh- you're so silly!

They lean in again. I take aim- and keep it focused on her forehead. At this point, three people sitting BEHIND the couples notice the laser pointer, and these three people and the guy all whip their heads around, looking for the source. Naturally, none of them think to look up at the projection window, and there's no way to tell where the line of the laser is coming from in the dark movie theater, so I keep it focused right between her eyes. They finally tell her what's going on, and she claps her hands to her forehead like she's afraid it's gonna fall off and begins freaking out. Around that point, the guy in projection comes up behind me and asks what I'm doing. I put the laser pointer back in my pocket and tell him. He laughs, then tells me that one of my friends and co-workers was looking for me, so I head back downstairs. She's in concessions, and I help her out filling orders, when about ten minutes later, I see that couple again, walking through the lobby and filing a complaint in Guest Services. They never found out it was me.

The most annoying job, the one everyone hates, is concessions. Yet, it seems like no matter how much we raise the prices, people STILL BUY THE FOOD!! The stupidest part is, my theater has NO RULE against bringing in outside food! You could just waltz right in with a Kfc 24-pack, and there would be be NOTHING we could do about it. Instead, people come up and buy our shitty food for exhorbitant prices, and then bitch to us, like maybe if they bitch enough, we'll just give it to them for free. No. Almost worse than the bitchers are people that come up to us with absolutely NO clue. They don't know what they want, what we have, or how much it costs. The following is just about EVERY conversation with almost every guest we encounter:

Me: Hi- what can i get for you?
Guest: What do you have?
Me: *points to giant glowing menu mounted on the wall* That. All of that.
Guest: *stares up at the menu like a turkey in the rain* Uhhhhhh.......
Me: *waits*
Guest: I guess I'll just have a popcorn and a cold drank.
Me: *sigh* What size?
Guest: Huh?
Me: What SIZE popcorn?
Guest: Regular
Me: Small, medium, or large?
Guest: Uh, medium?
Me: What kind of drink?
Guest: Large.
Me: *pulls out large cup* Okay- what kind?
Guest: Large.
Me: No- what KIND.
Guest: Laaaarge.
Me: WHAT DO YOU WANT AS YOUR BEVERAGE?
Guest: Oh. What do you have?
Me: *good GOD-- points to drink dispensers*
Guest: *looks at them for several minutes, swaying back and forth* Uuuuummmm...I guessss...Spriiiiite-NO! Diet coke!
Me: *goes to fill the cup*
Guest: Wait- how big is a large?
Me: *It's fucking BIG you moron!! -holds up cup-*
Guest: Oh, no, just give me a medium, then.
Me: Okay, that'll be eight fift--
Guest: Wait- can I add a hot dog?
Me: *I HATE YOU*

I haven't even touched on Box office or--even worse-- Guest Services. And I haven't mentioned my over-night stock job at Walgreens at all. If there's an interest, I'll be more than happy to continue my rant. Other than that, until I get enough money to go back to Japan on my own before I ship out (That's right- I'm in the military now), I'll be working a lot and traveling in my free time, so that's mostly what I'll be blogging about.

Thanks again for reading, and feel free to comment and ask questions!

Honestly, I thought I would have much more time to myself, to be able to spend as I pleased while visiting my aunt and uncle up here in Maryland, and update regularly as I promised. INSTEAD, I seem to be a 24-hr babysitting service for my spoiled-rotten baby cousins. They're ages eight and 4, and they never shut up. They TRY to think of ways of getting into mischief. For them, playing and fighting are the same thing, so when one of them screams bloody murder, I usually run to see what's the matter, only to catch them in the middle of a tickle fight. They're with me all damn day, too, following me around and asking me obnoxious questions. I HAVE to play with them, too, or my aunt won't pay me for watching them. Subsequently, I haven't been able to write ANYTHING (I write short stories and post them on the internet, too) let alone keep up with my blog here. I'm really sorry. Luckily, I managed to convince them to give me just a half hour of alone time, so I'll write what I can. Thanks for understanding.

Anyway, to continue with my story:

Fujiomi and I headed out fairly early, and once he bought our train passes, I knew we were headed into Shibuya. First of all- he's never bought me anything. Ever. And I knew that he got special pleasure watching me battle the Ticket Machines o' Evil every morning on the way to school. However, this time, he seemed all too eager to buy my ticket for me, and even take my hand as we boarded the train. I was about to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip.

Him: What? You don't like holding hands? How un-Japanese of you.

I wanted to correct him SO bad, and say that the Japanese were actually reknown for their strict social standards on physical affection; but I knew he was just using it as an excuse to win the bet we had, so I kept quiet. We got to Shibuya, and the first thing he did was ask me what I wanted to do. And it wasn't one of those careless, "What-do-you-wanna-do?"'s that ALL guys ask, because they're too lazy to think of something themselves. He looked me in the eyes, smiled, and asked me what I would enjoy doing- like he really cared!

IT WAS FREAKY. Like, Hitler-watching-care-bears kind of creepy.

I muttered something, so Fujiomi dragged me around and we window shopped for a bit. Again, the clothes I was wearing made me REALLY stand out, and those shoes were murder. It felt like everyone was looking at me- something I'm not really used to. About half an hour later, Fujiomi lead me into this cafe. Well, THEY call it a cafe. It actually looked like an botanical garden filled with french maid cosplay girls serving tea and really extravagant desserts. On a side note, maid cafe's are getting to be REALLY popular here, especially in the nooks and crannies of Shibuya, Shinjuku, and a few in Harajuku.

We sat down, and Fujiomi IMMEDIATELY turned back into his usual self.

Fujiomi: What's the matter with you?

Me: Huh?

Fujiomi: You're acting quiet and shy.

Me: Isn't that how I'm supposed to act?

Fujiomi: Yeah, but now that you're actually acting that way it's boring. So go back to your usual loud self. Seeing you so reserved is giving me chills.

Me: You're acting weird, too. You're acting nice, kind, and thoughtful.

Fujiomi: I'm always nice, kind and thoughtful.

Me: Not to me!

Fujiomi: I never said I was nice, kind, or thoughtful to YOU. but I am nive, kind, and thoughtful.

Me: You're evil.

After that, we talked more about each other, and the subject of our homes came up. Fujiomi actually asked me quite a few questions about America, like how much I had travelled around, what the social norms were like, and what kind of traditions we had. He ordered for the both of us- miraculously remembering that I like black coffee over tea- and some kind of frou-frou dessert. When the waitress gave it too us, it wasn't very large, but it looked like it was made of about nine different kinds of pure sugar.

I don't like sweets.

Period.

I have ONE piece of chocolate a year, and that's the truffle I get from my father every year on Valentine's Day.

This THING in front of me made me want to gag just from the sugary-sweet smell of it. And what did Fujiomi do? As soon as the waitress approached again, he turned back into the Nice Fujiomi, pasted on a smile and thanked her for it. Then, taking the spoon out, he scooped some of it up- and held it in front of me, telling me to open my mouth.

Not ONLY had the waitress not even left yet, but about six other people from surrounding tables were openly staring. AND I HATE SWEETS.

Me: You MUST be joking.

Him: -SMILE- Nope. Now open your mouth, like a good girlfriend.

The way he said it was SO perverted, too.

But if you can't beat 'em- shock 'em.

So I pressed my breasts together as I leaned forward, licked my lips and shut my eyes as I opened my mouth and went, "Ahhhhhhnnnnn".

I'm shocked he didn't drop that spoon. Instead, he SHOVED the hunk of sugar into my mouth and asked sweetly, "Tastes good, huh?" to which I answered as femininely as I could: "Uh-uh! As sweet as victory!"

Actually, I felt kind of bad, because between the two of us, we only had three bites of the entire Banana chocolate parfait. As a Southern girl, I hate seeing food go to waste-- but I sure as hell wasn't going to eat it.

Fujiomi dragged me out of the cafe and to a large building on the corner. There was a huge screen on both sides of the building, showing music videos and news clips and commercials. When I looked at the sign, I saw it was a movie theater. He asked me what movie I wanted to see- again, with that kind smile on his face, like he genuinely wanted to do something that I liked. However, I still had to get back at him for the parfait, so I pointed to a poster on the wall of a Japanese man and woman in a passionate embrace on a beach at sunset, with a title something like, "My heart, your body, our future" and said THAT was the movie I wanted to see.

Fujiomi's face fell as he looked at the poster, and I had to EAT MY OWN LIPS to keep from busting out laughing. Fujiomi has a special loathing for chick-flicks. According to Sukiko, he took his first date to a move, who- naturally- wanted to see a chick flick, and he mistakenly agreed. Not only did the movie and plot itself make him want to punch a baby, but apparently, the girl he was with would randomly throw herself at him throughout the movie and try to molest him, thinking it was romantic. Knowing this, I picked the sappiest, most feminine movie I could.

And, heroically enough, Fujiomi accepted the challenge.

OH SHIT!! One of the kids just fell down the stairs!! I'll update later!

So I'm on the flight to Maryland now. It's not too bad, but WHY IS IT that no matter WHERE I'm going, as soon as I step onto the plane, my period starts?! I'm also starting to get a headache and the coffee I'm drinking tastes like raw sewage.

But all is not lost. I'm really starting to look forward to my trip. My aunt and uncle are nice people (though wallpaper has a more interesting personality than the two of them), and their kids are...well....brats. They have an eight year old boy and a four year old girl, both of whom are pissing themselves with excitement at my visit. Beats me why. I'm horrendous with children.

I know I've been absent for quite some time now, but I still have loads to tell about my recent visit to Japan.

To get the ball rolling, I guess I could tell you about my date with Fujiomi. See, we had been officially dating for a few weeks, but had never been on a date before. I was actually wondering for a while when we would get to that part, but seeing as I had never really been on a real date before, I was afraid to bring up the topic with Fujiomi only to get mocked for my own ignorance. However, one afternoon, only days away from final exams, Fujiomi walked into my classroom during break and tugged me from my group of friends.

Fujiomi: Don't make any plans this Saturday.

Me: Huh?! Why not?

Fujiomi: I have plans.

Me: Okaaay....Well, good for you.

Fujiomi: Idiot- I have plans for US on Saturday.

After that he turned on his heel and walked away. I told the girls what happened and they LOST IT. All of a sudden they were yammering on about what to wear, how to do my hair, my nails, my makeup, where we were going and how "far" I would let him go. I wanted to talk to Fujiomi about it more, to know where we would go or what kind of "plans" he had in mind, but he never brought it up again, and when I asked, he'd give me his patented *shrug* "Whatever" move. It seemed like Saturday would never come, either. But finally, it did, and I was woken up at the buttcrack of dawn by Sukiko.

Sukiko: Hurry, Pandora-chan! Fujiomi is already awake and getting dressed! If you don't hurry, you won't be able to leave with him!

Me: Nnnghhhh....bwahhh.....? Leave...Go what? I just....I'm gonna play....one more level, then....zzzzzzzzzzz

Sukiko: PANDORA-SAN!!! pelase wake up! Today is your Super Special Date!

Me: ........................Date?

Sukiko: Yes! Remember?! Your date with Fujiomi! Hurry and take a shower, and get dressed, please! We all worked hard to put together the perfect outfit for you!

Me: "We"? Wait- what outfit?

I looked around, and I saw that Sukiko had no less than six different shopping bags with her.

Sukiko: Nana, Mai, and myself all pitched in to buy you a really cute outfit today! We all took turns going shopping and taking pictures of different styles to find clothes that fit you. Pandora-san, you're pretty, but we know that you rarely think of fashion or what to wear. Since today is your offical First Date, we wanted you to look the part! Also, we want Fujiomi to be suprised; he'll be the envy of every guy he passes, with you on his arm today!

I honestly didn't know what to say. Sukiko was right- I tend to find clothes that (mostly) fit, in colors I think look okay, and wear whatever's clean. I'm not a big jewelry fanatic, and I HATE accessories like purses and hats and belts. I'm the epitome of simple style- and the opposite of what's fashionable in Japan. The three of them had worked so hard- I could just imagine Mai snapping a picture of a blouse in a store window and sending it to Sukiko's cell phone to get her opinion, or Nana in her Goth Loli strolling up and down the streets of Harajuku, looking for just the right shoes for me. I thanked Sukiko profusely, but she said the real way to thank her was to not let her efforts go in vain, and I swore that they wouldn't. I would work hard and really clean myself up to be worthy of the clothes they had chosen. I took a quick shower, and when I was walking back to our room, I walked past Fujiomi's room and caught a glimpse of him putting some spray stuff in his hair and styling it, while muttering a few choice swear words in English and Japanese. When I got back to the room, Nana was there. She said she had come to help me with my hair and makeup while Sukiko was taking out and laying down the clothes from the many shopping bags. I told her that I wasn't used to makeup, but that I trusted her judgement and appreciated her help, all while thinking, Don't make me goth loli! Don't make me goth loli! Please, for the love of all that's good in the world, don't make me into a goth loli!!!!

Nana got to work on my hair immediately, blow-drying it straight with curls on the ends. I was suprised at how proffessional she was, but considering how much time she must spend on her OWN hair each day, I guess I shouldn't be too shocked. After she did my makeup, I put on the clothes they picked out. The shirt was a bit tight, but they had purposely picked out a shirt with these weird adjustable straps on the sides. "Well, considering your large chest, it was only fair. We wanted you to be able to breathe." Nana said. The next part was really suprising- they had bought me Daisy Duke-esque shorts to wear with it. I NEVER WEAR SHORTS. EVER. But I put them on at their insistance, and sure enough- it made my ass look wider than the whole country of Japan. "You have such long legs, Pandora-chan! It would be a shame not to show them off!" Sukiko said, "Besides, the jacket will cover the shorts anyway." Jacket? On cue, Nana pulled out a tailored jacket that went down to my knees. If I buttoned the jacket up, I looked like a flasher. I didn't say that, though, considering how much thought and effort they had put into it, so I let them put the matching belt, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, hair clips, and shoes on me. the outfit all matched perfectly- like something I would see in a fashion magazine on a woman half my size. Sukiko and Nana ooh-ed and ahh-ed over it, put the final touches on my makeup, and did my nails. Actually, they had these weird acrylic nail machines where you, like, put fake nails inside a tray, put it inside the machine, pick a template and colors, and press start, and it actually airbrushes the nails for you. Fake nails were a new thing for me, but some girls change their nail style every day!

When they finished, I looked in the mirror and abrely recognized myself. The makeup and hairstyle really called attention to the fact that I was a gaijin, as well as the rather tight top. While I looked at myself, Fujiomi knocked ont he door and said it was almost time to go, and he hoped I wasn't still asleep. Sukiko and Nana beamed with pride; I could only hope Fujiomi would feel the same way, and not laugh in my face. I opened the door- and he froze. He looked me right in the eyes, then scanned me up and down, then back at my face. After a moment, he opned his mouth and said: "Ready to go?"

Sukiko just about fell on the floor, and I swear I heard Nana weeping over Fujiomi's heartless response to all of her hard work. Fujiomi, though, grabbed my hand and led me downstairs and straight out the door. I noticed within the first forty seconds that the shoes nana and Sukiko had picked out for me were nearly impossible to walk in; they were strappy and awkward, and nothing like the flip flops I usually trekked in. We didn't say anything on the way to the train station, and I didn't even know where we were going until Fujiomi bought us two tickets to Shibuya. It was pretty crowded in the train, and it was difficult to stand. It felt like everyone was looking at me- though I noticed quite a few girls looking at Fujiomi.

I took the time to notice what he was wearing: A button-up shirt with a simple jacket over it, and designer jeans and shoes. He had undoubtedly taken almost as much time as me getting dressed and styling his hair. It made me wonder if Japanese guys were really all that different from American guys. The train got more and more crowded, and I was getting SUPER uncomfortable, because Fujiomi was right behind me. The more packed it got, the closer he and I were pressed against each other. At one of the stops, the train halted suddenly, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders to keep me from "falling on my face like an idiot." I remember smelling his cologne for the first time at that moment- when I turned my head to look at him and my face brushed his sleeve. It smelled....really nice. It didn't seem to me like it was manufactured, like Axe or Tag, but it was just as inviting.

We got off at our stop in Shibuya, and Fujiomi stopped, took my arm, wrapped it underneath his, and patted my hand- like some kind of escort! And he STILL hadn't said a two full sentances to me! Finally, I broke down and asked him where we were going. He grinned like an evil magistrate and said, "You'll see..."

To be continued...

I've been gone for a really long time! I know! I'm sorry!

So much has happened, really, and I want to tell you all about it. However, in about six hours, I have to board a direct flight to Maryland to visit my aunt. To make a long story short, Fujiomi and I dated, we went on three dates total, and then I had to go home. However, well, we decided that one month just wasn't enough time for me to get a full Japanese experience. I'm actually due to go back for the month of September, and half of October before I fly back to the States to go to my favorite anime convention- Yaoi-con.

For those of you who still want to hear from me, I'll be back to my regular Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday update schedule. I'll alternate between (finishing up) my articles about Japan, and clueing you in on my adventures in Maryland.

And if you really want to know why I've been gone so long- I kept mistyping the Your Japan home address. Yup. Simple as that. I figured the site had gone down or something, but then I was surfing around some forums and I saw someone quoting my blog and I was like, WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?! The girl wouldn't believe me when I said I was Pandora ("The REAL Pandora wouldn't be hanging out on anime forums! You're just a poseur!") but she did give me the web address, and I immediately noticed my typing error. My apologies.

Thank you for sticking with me, and please support me through all of the trials and tribulations to come.

So much has happened since I became his girlfriend. That incident between he and I happened almost a month ago- and not too long before our final exams. Also, only two days passed before I became really sick. I think I had the flu or something, but I can't be sure. All I know is that I felt like I was going to DIE. In fact, by the time I got over whatever was raping my internal organs, I was WISHING for death. Maybe it was something I ate at the hanami. All I know was that I was out of school for nearly a week and I was NOT a happy camper. I took my "time off' from school to update my posts, but then once I got back to school, I had work up the ass to catch up on. So, with that, I fell behind again. My apologies.

You all will be happy to know that Fujiomi took care of me while I was sick- but so did Sukiko, Youto, and their parents, so don't squeal with glee just yet. I think he just took advantage of me while I was incapacitated, and intentionally pissed me off as much as possible. Besides, no matter how much I coughed or sneezed in his direction, he NEVER got sick! Bastard.

When we returned to school, I was feeling much better, but I was dreading the kind of attention and rumors that were going to be focused solely on yours truly. When I got there, however, they all seemed to be glad I had returned and that I was feeling better, but something didn’t feel right. That’s when I remembered what Firefly and Azrael had said about the reality of Japanese feelings. Japanese RARELY tell you what they really feel or think out loud, and they would rather suck it up and be friendly to someone they don’t like to “keep the peace” than cause a disturbance and call attention to themselves. Of course, where I’m from, it’s very rude to hide your feelings and people appreciate your honesty when you say how you feel. We understand that it’s NOT easy to voice your opinion, so people that do so are given respect and consideration. So- if I don’t like someone or someone doesn’t like me, we express our dislike for one another- then move on. The End.

Here, though, I saw that the people who had been nice to me before really didn’t feel that way. They just THOUGHT that they should act that way towards me, because it was what was expected of them. I don’t know how to explain it, but perhaps living here taught me the subtle difference of a fake smile and a real smile, and that day I took not of all the fake smiles- and all the real ones. I admit, it was hard for me to accept the fact that “that’s just the way Japan is- their culture is different from mine”. It took a lot for me not to snap, “If you don’t like me, stop being a pussy and TELL ME SO!” like I would in America. For those of you who come here, I think each of you will have your own epiphany like I did, and see the ups AND downs of personal interaction in Japan.

We had gym class right before lunch- WORST CLASS EVER. Just so you know, MY gym class back home consists of twenty five girls in comfortable t-shirts and shorts and tennis shoes, lounging around on the bleachers for half an hour. Then, the teacher does roll call, and we pretend to stretch while we keep talking to our friends. We roll out our mats, and pop in a ten-minute beginner’s yoga video, and make fun of the weird guy in a Speedo as we half-heartedly do the different poses. After that, we go back to the bleachers and sip our Starbucks for the rest of the forty minutes. That’s. IT. Gym class in Japan is DRASICALLY different. Think boot camp meets American Gladiators and THAT is a gym class in Japan. First of all, I HATE the uniforms. We wear t-shirts like in America, but the bottoms, well, I reject those bottoms. They can’t even be called shorts! They’re like swimsuit bottoms, but they go all the way up past my belly button! Excuuuuuuse me, but I DON’T want my ass on display three times a week while I run around and DIE in the heat. No thank you. They make us do relay races, sit-ups, push ups, balance beams, chin-ups, splits, back-bends- if I had wanted to be a contortionist, I would have joined the circus. Most of it is OUTSIDE, too, which is AWFUL. In the South, I’m used to the heat. The heat is nooooo problem for me. I laugh at people who complain that they’re dying of heat stroke when it’s barely 90 degrees outside. In New Orleans right now, it’s around 98 in the SHADE. Heat isn’t an issue. It’s the humidity. Or, to be more specific, the LACK of humidity. Just a note: dry heat is much, MUCH worse than wet heat. I’d rather be in a sauna than a desert, y’know? When you walk outside, it’s like all the air has been sucked dry and I can’t breathe! And it’s barely in the high seventies!

Anyway, that day for gym class the FAT ASS TEACHER was putting us pitiful students through our ritual torture exercises when she got a note from the office and EVERY GIRL collapsed onto the grass. Some of the girls looked behind us and said that they boys were about to go onto the field for their gym class. The boy’s gym class is SO much easier! While I’m going through Full Metal Jacket training camp, the boys get to play basket ball, volley ball- and soccer. If y’all recall, Fujiomi is co-captain of the soccer team, and I got to see him in full soccer uniform. Talk about WEIRD. There is NOTHING weirder for a sports fan than seeing a tall, lanky Asian boy in full-fledged soccer uniform, including short shorts and high socks. All of the guys were following him onto the field, and they were talking and laughing together while the girls chatted and giggled. It wasn’t until then that I realized just how popular Fujiomi was. He commanded a lot of respect, and he seemed to unconsciously be right ALL THE TIME about EVERYTHING. Maybe that’s what pisses me off the most about him. It’s that he’s right and he KNOWS it. And he makes sure that YOU know it, too. Bastard.

It was odd, but I felt sort of… how do I put this…. Proud, maybe? That I had outsmarted Fujiomi and tricked him into being my boyfriend. It finally felt like he and I were on the same level. While all the girls pointed out the guys they liked (and Fujiomi was named plenty of times) I was smirking on the inside that he was my boyfriend- and there was nothing ANY of them could do about it.

Oh, by the way, if I could have taken a picture of Fujiomi’s face when I said, “YOU. I want to be YOUR girlfriend,” I would have. I might as well have told him that I was pregnant with his child (don’t get your hopes up).

We haven’t gone on a “date” yet, but between final exams and graduation, we just haven’t had time. I DO want to tell y’all about making him a bento box, though.

After a few days, when all of Japan had had time to hear the news that I was Fujiomi’s girlfriend, I began to have competition. All kinds of girls came out of the woodwork, trying doubly hard to get Fujiomi’s attention. For those of you with dicks reading my blog- this is an important girl fact that you should know. As SOON as you get a girlfriend, nine times out of ten, that girl is going to tell EVERYONE that you and she are a couple. After that, THOSE girls are going to mention it, and so on and so forth. Within a week, you should have an entire entourage of women that you don’t even know hitting on you and openly flirting with you, most of whom know your girlfriend. Why? Because they want your attention. They are trying to prove to themselves and all the other girls that they are more desirable than the girl you’re dating. Plus, if you’re girlfriend says anything to them, they can play dumb and say, “I wasn’t flirting with him. He’s your boyfriend. I was just being nice.” It can be a real power struggle if you notice the signs and looks the girls give each other. Some key phrases to look out for if you think your girlfriend’s friend is hitting on you, but you’re not sure are: “You’re so nice!” “I really appreciate your help with _____” “Wow! I’m impressed!” “Are you always so funny/cute/smart/polite/other complimentary adjective ?” “[Your girlfriend’s name] is so lucky to have you!”

Anyway, moving on- THAT’S what these girls were doing. But don’t forget, this is Japan. The women here are ALL husband hunters, and they start at a young age. The girls hitting on Fujiomi were VICIOUS, bringing up embarrassing traits about each other, telling Fujiomi about each other’s sexual and hygiene habits, etc. I’ve never seen anything like it. They were also really grabby with him. American girls flirt with glances, giggles, and smiles. MAYBE a light touch on the shoulder. This was way different. I saw girls hugging him almost all the time, or asking him to feel their forehead “for a fever”, o reach into her pocket to “grab something for her”. Sukiko told me that one girl tried to grab his butt but missed. I didn’t see that. I don’t even know what I would have done about it if I HAD seen it.

One night at dinner, we were all talking, and Sukiko’s dad said that on his way home from the train station, he had seen two boys from our school hanging out outside the gate of the house. When they saw him approaching, though, they walked away. When asked, Fujiomi said that it wasn’t any of his friends, they would have called before coming over, and they wouldn’t have run away at the sight of his dad. Sukiko said that they were probably boys for me, and that we should check the mailbox for a love letter. She was just kidding, of course, but Fujiomi took her seriously and asked, “Jeez- hasn’t all of that foolishness stopped yet?!”

Sukiko: It’s not foolishness! Pandora-san is very popular with the boys.

Fujiomi: Yeah, and I can think of only two BIG reasons why she’s so popular. *Looks pointedly at my breasts*

Sukiko’s Mom: Fujiomi! That’s enough! You apologize right now!

Sukiko: Yeah, you should be nicer to her if you want her to be a good girlfriend.

I was expecting Sukiko’s mom and dad to be at least a LITTLE shocked, but nope. Not a single eyelash fluttered. Even Youto looked like he was bored by the news.

Fujiomi: If she’s my really girlfriend, then those other guys should leave her alone. Pandora- tell those guys to quit hassling you. It’s annoying.

Me: Then you tell those other girls to stop hassling you. THAT is something really annoying.

Fujiomi:…………….Eh?

I looked at Sukiko, not quite sure how to tell him he was being molested more than a choir boy in a rectory, and she took over and told him that the other girls were hitting on him, trying to compete with me for his attention. Fujiomi’s response?

“That’s stupid. Girls are stupid.”

Wow. That witty observation has left me dumbstruck by your genius.

Sukiko’s mom suggested that I make him a bento for lunch the next day. It’s part and parcel of being a Japanese girlfriend, apparently, but I suck at cooking. I’m barely adept at making cereal for myself, let alone try my hand at Japanese cooking, but Sukiko and her mom promised to help me. Fujiomi butted in and said that most of it had to be by me, though, and that he would be able to tell the difference between their cooking and mine. Fine, ya damn cooking nazi- I’ll make the freakin’ bento.

The next morning Sukiko’s mom shook me awake early and I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she made breakfast for the family and then prepared the bento boxes. Sukiko has a pink bento box, and they even found an Inuyasha bento box for me! Fujiomi’s bento box…is really plain. It’s like a black cookie tin with a silver dragon on the lid. O-kaaaaaaaay.

Luckily I didn’t have to make fresh rice, and browning meat into a hamburger wasn’t too far beyond me, but I declined Sukiko’s mom when she offered to show me how to make carrot stars and other vegetable shapes. No thank you- I’d like to keep all of my fingers today, if that’s possible. I made a normal hamburger steak thing, put it over the rice, and flambé-d some vegetables. They were supposed to be boiled. Don’t ask. I only melted one spatula, so it’s not that big of a deal, okay?

Fujiomi left before us to catch up on his student council stuff, so he didn’t even get to see me cooking, which kind of put me out. Though, I wouldn’t have wanted him to see me torch those vegetables. By the time I arrived at school, he would have psychically spread the information all around Japan.

Fast forward to school, but remind me to tell you about my creepy stalker otaku guy.

Classes sucked, I didn’t get some of the notes because my aunt Flow is visiting again, yadda yadda yadda. Lunch.

I did my usual trip to the school store for some Pocky and Ramune. The guy that works behind the counter there is really nice, and has gotten into the habit of talking to me in some English for practice. He doesn’t know too much about sentence construction, but his pronunciation is pretty good. He says he learned by watching American television over the internet. His favorite show? Will and Grace.

The instant he whips out a “FABULOUS!” I’m gonna die laughing in his face, no lie.

Anyway, I went back to my homeroom, and I hear this loud SLAM! and I twitched so badly I almost dropped my food. Theeeeeeere was Fujiomi, standing by my desk with about half of my class standing around him. He looked piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed. He had hit the top of my desk when I walked in and I gave him the, “What-the-HELL-was-that-for?!” look.

Fujiomi: You’re late.

Me:…………… Huh?

Fujiomi: Lunch started almost eight minutes ago. You should have been here waiting for me.

Me: I went to get a drink!

Fujiomi: That can wait until I get my food.

See, Fujiomi was hungry. Fujiomi gets VERY MAD when he’s hungry. He wolfs down all of his food and hardly EVER talks during dinner. He’s all about the food.

Me: Your bento box is in my desk. Get it.

The girls looked sort of put out that I had made him a lunch, I guess because that “officially” meant he and I were going out. But Fujiomi shook his head.

Fujiomi: Give it to me.

WHAT?! You fucking douchebag! You are RIGHT BY MY DESK! Your hand is ON my desk! USE YOUR HAND and lift the top to achieve ownership of your GODDAMMED lunch, you cunt wad!

But good girlfriends don’t say that. Soooo. I had to WALK over there, PUT my stuff down, OPEN my desk top- but when I went to grab his lunch box and give it to him?

He walks away.

WTF?!

There I am, standing at my desk with HIS bento that he “waited for” and made ME get FOR him- and the fucktard WALKS AWAY?! He walked right out of the classroom! I just stood there in shock. Was there some sort of Japanese telepathic message that I wasn’t picking up on? Did he make me get it for him just to piss me off, and was now leaving to get a different lunch? I though the second prospect was more likely, and I got piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed, too. I didn’t burn my fingers SEVEN TIMES (SEVEN!), cut two fingertips and bruise my hip on the stove so he could get a 320 teriyaki sandwich, dammit!

Mai asked me what was wrong, and I told her what happened using what Japanese I could hobble together along with a string of English curse words. She explained to me that Fujiomi was waiting for me to present it to him, while he was in HIS classroom in front of HIS friends. She said it was a male pride thing to have a girl go through the trouble of making and bringing a guy she liked food she had made, and that Fujiomi wanted me to do the same.

So- what she was telling me was that Fujiomi’s ego was so HUGE that he needed ME to walk to his classroom, and formally present him with his lunch, just so he could show off in front of his friends and have them all tell him what a lucky guy he was to have The American make him lunch. Mai told me to act “cute” and “spunky”, but also a little bit “shy” and “modest”.

Me: So, act like an shojo anime girl?

Her: Yeah. Basically.

Me: You’re on.

I hiked up my skirt as high as I could, readjusted my boobs and blouse to show off maximum cleavage, and let my hair down. One quick swipe of Mai’s mascara and my lip gloss, and I was ready. Mai and some of the other girls wished me luck, and I sashayed down the hall. That got me a LOT of attention- most of it towards my chest. I heard more than one, “SUGOOOOOOI!”.

Animals.

But- they did give me the confidence I needed to throw open Fujiomi’s classroom door and smile as I walked in and looked around the room for him. He wasn’t that hard to spot- I just pretended not to see him.

Me: -singsong voice- Oh, Fuuuuuuuuuuuuji-kuuuuuuuuun! Where aaaaaaaare yoooooou?

I “spotted” him and gave a little gasp and a jump, and I smiled real big.

Me: THERE you are! I found you! Heeheehee!

I walked over to his desk, swaying my hips and stepping hard to make my boobs jiggle. Hey- don’t judge me. Just because I don’t do that kind of thing all the time doesn’t mean I don’t know how. Every girl knows how to be sexy, and she uses her skills when she has to. I had to. This was a matter of pride. If he could act all macho and boss me around in front of my friends, the least I could do is ruffle his feathers in front of his. There isn’t a word in any language that could describe just how shocked my classmates were. I was acting like the very girls I hated most of all, and they all knew it. Fujiomi was comatose in his seat, looking right at me and blinking repeatedly.

Fujiomi’s friends: OUWAH! PANDORA-SAN!!

Boy 1: Fujiomi-kun- Look! Look! Do you see that?! That’s Pandora-san!

Boy 2: You look really pretty, Pandora-chan!

Boy 1: What brings you here to our classroom?

Aha- so he hadn’t told his friends about ordering me to bring him his lunch. No wonder he was touchy about me being late to my classroom. It was probably difficult to explain where he was going without them following or at least pressing him for information.

Me: -Anime smile, complete with semi-shut eyes and little giggle- I’m here to bring my Fuji-kun his lunch! I made it myself this morning.

Boy 3: Ah! Wow- she really DID make you a lunch!

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Boy 1: Maaaaaan. I want to taste some of her cooking, too!

No, you don’t.

Boy 2: I know, right? Pandora-chan’s cooking must be wonderful!

No, it’s not.

Boy 1: American girls are really good at cooking! They make the best food.

No we don’t. Hamburger Helper was invented for a reason. Where the hell did you get that from, anyway? How many American girls have you dated?

Boy 2: Plus, that lunch is filled with all of Pandora-chan’s love and tenderness!

I hope Fujiomi chokes on it.

I put the lunch on Fujiomi’s desk, beeeeending over reeeeeally low so that the front of my shirt hung down a bit. “Here- let me open that for you,” I said sweetly. I SAW his eyes flick towards my chest. I SAW it. I mean, I guess they WERE right in his face, but still, I felt victorious. Why? I’m still working that out.

Then, he looked down at the food, and he made my “WTF?!” face.

My victorious feeling went right out the window.

Fujiomi: What is this?!

Me: Hamburger steak over rice with…vegetables.

The other guys leaned in and looked.

Boy 3: Ah! She made an American hamburger! She did it American style!

I didn’t really get the difference. I mean, I browned meat in some butter, added minced garlic and slivered onions with salt and pepper, and tada! Hamburger. Right?

No. I learned later that Japanese Hamburger steak involves a much more different process, including a large amount of oil, some soy sauce, and a raw egg. I didn’t get too much from Sukiko’s explanation, but once I heard “raw egg” I had heard enough.

Anyway, while the other boys ooh-ed and ahh-ed over “real American cooking”, Fujiomi picked up his chopsticks and prodded around a bit. He picked up one of the most burnt, shriveled carrots and held it up.

Fujiomi: What’s this?

Me: Uh- That’s American style, too.

Fujiomi looked at me like, “You’ve GOTTA be kidding me. You suck at lying.”

He and the other guys asked me about my cooking some more, and Fujiomi picked at the lunch, eating nibbles of rice and the caramelized onions. I had some difficulty with the Japanese they used, but I was feeling overall accomplished with my work. Then trouble started brewing. A girl came over and started speaking to Fujiomi in spit-fire, REALLY complicated Japanese. I didn’t need to really know what she said; her smile and the way she shifted from one foot to the other and twirled her hair spelled it all out for me. And Fujiomi just talked right back to her! Talk about feeling LEFT OUT. That really made me mad, and I bit my lip to keep from snapping at them. Fujiomi looked up at me, but I looked away. Whatever. He can talk to her if he wants. I don’t care. He even called my name. Nope. Not answering you, buddy.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and PULLED me down, and I almost fell in his lap. He looked up at the girl and said clearly.

Fujiomi: Pandora. She’s my girlfriend.

She looked at me, then back at him, then back at me. I looked back at her, all of my American spirit returning. Bring it on, ho. I’ll tear you a new rice paddy if you try anything with me.

Skank: But it’s just a bet, right? You two are only playing. You should be free to date other women if you want, Fujiomi-san!

Me: I’m not “only playing”.

I took a page from Snuzzlebunnie’s book (Az must be cringing) and bent over Fujiomi’s shoulder and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my boobs to the back left side of his head, smiling at the girl. I don’t think Fujiomi appreciated that too much because he jerked down on the tie of my sailor blouse so my face was next to his. Then, he tilted his head sideways so our temples touched.

Fujiomi: And there is no other woman I want to date right now. Plus-Pandora makes an awesome bento.

The girl kind of frowned and walked away, and Fujiomi let go of my scarf/tie thing.

Fujiomi: Get back to you own classroom now. Lunch is almost over.

I wasn’t really in a good mood, but I was too tired to argue with him so I said, “Fine,” and waved good bye as I went back to my own classroom. I fixed my skirt and blouse and hair to how they were before and I got to inhale my lunch right before the bell rang. The rest of the day passed, and I hovered between being bored and being pissed. School ended, and I walked with Sukiko to the school gates.

“PANDORA!! HEY- PANDORA!”

What the- I turn around and it’s Fujiomi, screaming my name and running after me like and idiot. He was grinning like an idiot, too. Was he sick? Just as I was about to ask him if he hit his head, he gave me this HUGE bear hug, and lifted me off the ground about eight inches. A bit startling, to say the least. After he put me down, he was still holding onto me and he said in my hear, “Thanks for the bento. You’re a good girlfriend,” before letting go, waving at Sukiko, winking at me, and jogging back into the building. EVERYONE was staring, and once again, I was left standing there, a huge, “WTF?!” expression on my face. I looked at Sukiko, and she asked, “Has he always called you by your first name?” I thought about it, and realized he’s NEVER used an honorific with my name. He’s always addressed me as just “Pandora”.

Bastard.

This post is taking forever, so the love letters will have to wait unless something more interesting happens that I want to write about. I AM going to write about taking my finals and graduating from Japanese high school (I get the feeling that post is gonna be long, too), but I think I’d like to change my pace a bit.

With my next, post- Send in your questions.

That’s right- any question ANY of you have, submit it in comment form, and I’ll be sure to answer every single one of them to the best of my ability. Ask about Japan, school, food, clothes, Sukiko- and I think a few of you might even ask about Fujiomi, right? Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m feeling generous, so send in those questions! I’ll update on Wednesday (American time) with my answers, so feel free to send in more than one as you think of them, and tell your friends to send in questions, too. Regular comments are always appreciated as well, of course.

Oh, and Ari (or Ali, I’m not sure), the first one I subscribed to was Things to Avoid While In Japan. That gave me a lot of cultural hints. As far as language, I suggest Japanese class, but it’s a video cast, so you might not be able to watch it on your iPod, but it’s really good for an introduction to sentence construction and correct grammar. Also, try to look for Japanese podcasts that are supposed to teach English. It can be interesting to listen to.

With that, this is Pandora, signing off.

I updated, so you'll have to go back to "and this happened how?!"

I'll be deleting this post after y'all read it, so any comment you have, add them to that post. I would hate to delete your precious comments.

_pandora

ARGH!!!!!!!!

HOW MANY TIMES?!!!! How many times will my internet crap out RIGHT BEFORE my post is complete?! This isn't funny anymore! It's passed up funny and headed straight into "God MUST hate me" territory.

I mean, not ONLY am I being black-mailed into being The Demon's girlfriend, AND I'm just getting over a very bad cold, but now THIS?! I'm not even allowed to finish my post so that I might get some sympathy from my loyal readers?

Ugh......My life.....

I think I'm gonna go throw up now...

This isn't funny anymore, God. Go pick on Azrael.

Here is the final part of the story that explains how I ended up becoming Fujiomi's girlfriend. Don't wet yourself just yet- let me explain.

That day at school, there were very mixed feelings. Some people- who had already heard through the grapevine about Fujiomi's return to hating me- ignored me or gave me weird, almost hostile looks. Others, who were still clueless and thought everything was still going fine, chatted with me openly and were very friendly.

Let me pause for a moment to say that the entire population of Japan MUST BE psychic. There is NO OTHER explanation as to how half the student body found out about Fujiomi and I, unless they, too, had been listening during my phone conversation. You’ll come in contact a lot with this in Japan- the small glances or gestures that have the power to convey entire conversations. It’s creepy, to say the least, and I’m usually caught in the dark a lot of the time when this goes on.

The first half of my day was an emotional rollercoaster. One minute, I was pissed because someone ignored me or gave me a haughty look- the next, I was elated when someone else greeted me in the hallway. By lunch time, I was NOT willing to put up with a crowd of curious classmates surrounding me, asking me personal questions and trying to verify various rumors they had heard about me.

Do you see where I’m going with this yet?

Thank God for Sukiko, who kept most of the vultures at bay. The Japanese love two things- suffering and gossip. If you are Japanese, you do both simultaneously, and you enjoy every minute of it. However, none of us were really able to eat. Mai and Nana also helped out, and I felt bad for putting them in that position. About halfway through lunch, the room got quiet and the crowd parted.

Crap.

Fujiomi came in the room, and he was immediately assaulted by questions as well, though they didn’t seem to want to invade HIS personal space. He walked up to me, with that “I’m-such-a-badass” grin that makes him look like a cheesy drama villain, and asked me in English:

Fujiomi: Enjoying your lunch?

Me: (In Japanese) I’m not an idiot; You can speak to me in Japanese.

Fujiomi: (In English) But I thought you hated it when people talked to you in Japanese too fast. You said it sounded like the wailings of a drunken cat. All I am doing is making it easier for you.

Me: You’re mocking me. Stop it.

At this point, there are students running to their desks for their English-Japanese Dictionaries, and two of them hurtled down the hall, calling for the English teacher to come and translate. Fujiomi’s friends showed up- the same ones from the hanami- and one of them looped his arm around Fujiomi’s neck and started giving him a noogie. I’m not even kidding. I seriously thought that Fujiomi was going to bite his hand off.

Boy 2: What- still picking on Pandora-san?

Boy 3: She’s a nice girl. Leave her alone, Fujiomi-kun.

Fujiomi: I’m not picking on her. I’m being nice. However, she doesn’t seem to appreciate talking to me in English. Strange gaijin.

Me: Your English skill is really impressive, Fujiomi. You should come with me to America, where everyone speaks English. You would fit right in over there. No one would even know you were Japanese.

Note: If you don’t want to piss a Japanese off, DON’T SAY THIS. Don’t say anything LIKE this. Don’t even THINK it, because their Japanese telepathy will pick it up. This is the WRONG THING to say. I know that. I knew it when I said it, but I didn’t care.

See, there are a lot of hypocrisies in Japan. One of the main ones is about English. The Japanese love English: they like to use random English words EVERYWHERE, and they admire native English speakers. English has its own fan base in Japan, much like Japanophilia is growing rampant in the States. However, there is a down side. The Japanese don’t want to appear too English-obsessed, for fear of looking unpatriotic. Elementary school kids that have an easy time at picking up English are teased a lot by their classmates from what Youto tells me. The interest they have in exploring something different clashes with the need to blend in with the crowd, which explains why many of them get so antsy around foreigners. By saying a comment like mine, not only was I drawing special attention to his English ability, but I was setting him apart from his culture and associating him instead with me and my own country. Obviously, this was a big no-no, and Fujiomi did NOT appreciate it.

Almost as soon as I finished my last word, I could feel the beginnings of rumors start to form in the minds of my classmates, each making their own assumption as to how Fujiomi was so good at English. Fujiomi LOST IT.

Fujiomi: SHUT UP! You don’t know ANYTHING! And I would NEVER want to go to your stupid, filthy country! You’re only here on a passing wish- to eat our food and go to our school and wear our clothes. This is a vacation for you! Soon, you’ll go back to your own life and laugh with your friends about our “silly culture” and then you’ll forget all about us! You’re nothing but a lying gaijin- trying to fool yourself into thinking you’re Japanese! Stop pretending, and GO HOME!

I’ll admit, that hurt. And that’s just what I UNDERSTOOD. He really said a lot more. PLUS- I actually SAW a teacher standing in the doorway of the room while Fujiomi was yelling! You know what that teacher did?! He sipped his coffee, shook his head, and WALKED AWAY! I couldn’t believe it! Right then, I knew I would have to take care of Fujiomi myself.

Me: Listen! Don’t talk down to me! I worked hard to get here!

Unfortunately- that’s about as far as I got before I ran out of Japanese. I was really angry, and I was struggling to put my English thoughts into coherent Japanese sentences. Because I was defending my right to be in Japan, I didn’t want to make an ass of myself by piecing together chopped up Japanese. After a few moments, I sucked it up and switched to English.

Me: I’m not lying about anything! I KNOW that I’m a gaijin- I KNOW that I don’t really belong here, and that I never will. But is that wrong?! Is it WRONG of me to want to visit this country, to want to really experience life here as more than another tourist?

Fujiomi answered me in Japanese.

Fujiomi: See? You don’t even know enough of our language to explain yourself. If you could even ACT Japanese, I might be able to accept you. But everything about you is American- the way you speak, the way you think, how you sit and walk and laugh. If you really tried, you could blend in a lot more. But you insist on standing out.

Me: (In Japanese) I don’t TRY to stand out! Gaijin naturally attract more attention in this country.

Fujiomi: (In English) Your hair.

Okay- PAUSE. Let me just say that at this point in our conversation, half of our classmates have had aneurysms from trying to follow along. Now that I type it all out, I’m surprised at how much he and I switched from English to Japanese. (For the record, I enlisted Sukiko’s help with this post to recall the event as accurately as possible. Sukiko has known all along about my blog. She promised not to tell Fujiomi about my blog, if in return, I let her practice her practice her English and write a post on here one day.)

Me: (In Japanese) What? My hair? What about it?!

Fujiomi: (J) It sticks out. It’s gotten lighter and lighter since you’ve been here, until you’ve become a walking “GAIJIN” sign.

Me: Lots of other girls dye their hair!

Fujiomi: But it’s obvious on you. It makes you stick out.

Me: So if I didn’t dye my hair, that would make me more Japanese?!

Fujiomi: NOTHING could make you more Japanese. There’s no way you could ever pull it off.

Me: I could so!

Fujiomi: Not to my standards.

Me: (In English) Wanna bet?

Then, Fujiomi’s friend shouted. Well, to be honest, it’s not really a shout. If you ever get the chance, watch Japanese television on Youtube. Not the anime or the dramas, but the game/variety shows. Watch how the Japanese react to certain situations. They make SOUND EFFECTS. It comes off as cheesy at first, but they MEAN it. One of the main sound effects they make is a surprised shout, like when something shocks them or they heard something suprising. It sounds like, “OUWAH!” like they tripped or something. Fujiomi’s friend made this noise REALLY LOUD, and everyone looked at him.

Boy 2: Hey, hey- make a bet! Make a bet! Fujiomi-kun- why don’t you bet Pandora-san that she cannot be Japanese! We’ll make it an event!

Boy 3: No, no- do what we said yesterday! Let’s see if Pandora-san can be the “perfect Japanese girlfriend” !

Class: OUWAH!

The crowd of students didn’t know about our hanami conversation, so they all started asking questions, wanting to be filled in. Fujiomi shook his head.

Fujiomi: No. No way can she do it. Whose girlfriend would she be?

Boy 1: MINE!

Boy 2: Shut up- you already have a girlfriend!

Boy 3: Damn- I’m taken, too.

Boy 2: Be my girlfriend, Pandora-chan! I’ll help you be the best girlfriend ever!

Talk about pandemonium. Almost every single guy in class was offering to be my boyfriend to help me “win the challenge”. Everything was happening really fast, and I couldn’t really speak up because I was busy trying to keep up with the rapid-fire Japanese around me. Sukiko was talking to her brother, and they were arguing, and Mai and Nana were sifting through the boys, picking out “good” guys for me to date. A teacher walked by and told us to keep it down, but no one really listened and the teacher walked away. Fujiomi slipped away from Sukiko and said to me in English, “Well, gaijin? Do you accept my challenge? If you can meet my standards, I will submit that you are a good woman and you are good enough to be Japanese. If not, or if you give up, you have to bow to me and admit that you should have never come here in the first place.”

Me: (In Japanese). . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Fine. I agree.

Now, the only issue was whom to pick. The other classes hadn’t even heard about it yet, and I was trying to think about boys in other classes, and who was taken already. Also, there were still about twenty guys in front of me, clamoring for my attention. It sounds great, sure, but from my perspective, it’s a pain in the ass. I’ve always gone to an all-girl’s school, so suddenly finding myself in the midst of a class full of boys each dying to be my boyfriend makes me wanna throw up. Sukiko got close to me and whispered, “Pick Fujiomi!”

Me; WHAT?!

Sukiko: (still whispering) He’s counting on you picking the wrong person and failing. Plus, anyone else that you pick will have to answer to Fujiomi. You already live with him, so what better way to ensure you win?

I thought about it, and I didn’t really like it. Living with him, there was less I could get away with, and Fujiomi would be more able to point out my mistakes. Plus, Fujiomi could act like a total duckweed and sabotage my efforts himself. I had been considering picking Rin as my boyfriend. He already had a crush on me, and he was nice and easy to get along with. Without missing a beat, Sukiko whispered, “Pick Fujiomi, or I’ll tell him about your webpage.”

THAT was unexpected. The Sukiko I knew was never vindictive or malevolent, so to have her say that in such a cold voice really shocked me. I looked at her like, “Bitch,-is-you-CRAZY-?!” but she just shook her head and said it was for my own good.

I turned and looked at Fujiomi, who obviously had NO IDEA what his sister, The Demon, had just said. I knew Sukiko was serious, and what would happen if Fujiomi really did read my blog, so I sucked it up, pointed at Fujiomi, and said, “YOU. I want to be YOUR girlfriend.”

To be continued…

For those of you who don't know, I DID add on to my previous post. Go back one to finish reading it, then feel free to return. I don't mind waiting.

Ready? Okay- so to continue where I left off, my cell was ringing and I had to go into the kitchen to get it. This was odd for many different reasons. First of all, no one in Japan really has my cell phone number. One, because even thought I'm IN the country, it still gets charged as an international call because Sprint is a faggot. Two, because I don't really like to give my number out in the first place. Three, because there IS a difference between text messaging and phone mail, and Japanese people do NOT know that.

So it's about one in the morning, and I'm wondering who the hell is making my phone belt out the Friends theme song. I reach into my purse, flip it open to silence the ring, and answer it. The following conversation happened within seconds:

BOLD words are in English. Italicized words are in Japanese.

Me: Hello?

Girl: Hey, there- what's up?! It's been FOREVER.

Me: What the hell?! Who is this?!

Girl: Um- HELLO! You there?!

Me: What are you saying, woman?!

Girl: Are you speaking Japanese?! That is SO cool!

Me: (Thinks: Oh, English.) Sorry, but- I dunno Engrish. I apologize.

Girl: Very funny, Pandora. You don't know English. And I'm Winnie the Pooh.

FINALLY- the lightbulb turned on, and I shook my head at my own stupidity. Winnie the Pooh is a big in-joke with my friends and I, and I instantly knew who it was on the phone. I slapped my forehead and shut my eyes, and said in my NORMAL voice- in ENGLISH- "Hey. Sorry 'bout that."

She laughed about it after I told her what happened, and I went back into the living room with my phone. It was my best friend from back home, and I hadn't realized how much I missed hearing her voice. Being here really takes a toll on you at first, getting used to the rapid-fire Japanese and lack of subtitles, and the high-pitched nasally quality of everyone's voice. So when you finally hear a friend- or even yourself- speaking in normal English, it sounds like the weirdest thing in the world. Sort of like that feeling when you're dreaming, and you KNOW your dreaming, but you still can't wake up.

She and I talked for HOURS. Of course, it was three in the afternoon back home, so she hadn't really thought about it when she called me. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear her voice, and to be reminded of all our silly quotes and inside jokes that we had made up over the years. It made me miss home- a LOT. It also reminded me just how far away I was, and how different the culture is here. When I told her I wasn't feeling well, and that I might have to get a mask for my face, she was HORRIFIED. "Like- a JASON mask??" I was taken aback- before I remembered that in the States, wearing a surgical mask over your face is NOT a common thing to do.

She asked me a lot about being here. She and I email every day, but between school work and trying to have a social life here, I don't really get the chance to type everything out, and tell her everything that goes on here. I told her about my daily routine, about Harajuku and the people I had seen in Yoyogi park. I told her all about the hanami and the photoshoot, too, and her interest perked when I mentioned Fujiomi fixing my yukata.

Her: So he's treating you better now?

Me: Kinda. But I can't figure him out.

Her: What do you mean?

Me: Fujiomi's really distant with me. Even though we're getting along better now, and he doesn't try to piss me off intentionally anymore, he still treats me differently than other girls. He's nicer to them. More polite. He talks a LOT more to them, and doesn't seem like he has a stick up his ass- more relaxed and open, y'know?

My friend told me that it was because I wasn't LIKE those other girls. She said the main factor was probably because I wasn't Japanese. "Like it or not," she said, "they're going to treat you differently. You knew that when you went over there." She reassured me and told me not to sweat it, and she made some jokes to make me laugh. I still didn't feel better, so she asked me if I wanted to vent. I told her that I did, so she let me.

I let it ALL out- how much I hate wearing that slutty school uniform, how much I loathe the Japanese train system, how I dream of eating real food with flavor, how I hate sitting on the floor like a hippie- EVERYTHING, right down to the calluss I've gotten from using chopsticks. Then, I started in on Fujiomi. I told her all about how mean he was when I first arrived, all the sarcastic comments he made, and how I hated how he treated me differently.

My friend laughed, and agreed. She even brought up some things I had forgotten in my rage, like the onsen incident, and I ranted about those things, too. Finally, when I was all done, it was nearly four in the morning. She and I stayed on the phone for maybe another half hour, and she told me briefly about all the goings-on back home. Thoroughly exhausted from my venting, I told my friend good-bye and I managed to crawl into my futon for a few hours' sleep before I was waken up for school again.

I dressed and went down for breakfast. Sukiko's mom made me a plate and I ate, feeling almost hung-over from my lack of sleep. Fujiomi came into the kitchen with Sukiko, and they ate, too. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Normal. Until Sukiko's mother left the kitchen. Fujiomi, not even looking up from his bowl of soup, asked me , "Did you sleep well, Pandora?"

I was still bleary-eyed and unfocused, so I answered him back in English.

Me: Yes, I slept fine.

Fujiomi: Didn't know you could sleep at all on our hard hippie floors. Doesn't the lumpy pillow give you neck pain?

Me: What...?

Fujiomi: I'm suprised you can even eat the gruel in front of you. So much fish and rice all the time- it's like a prisoner's diet.

Me: (Thinks: Wait- what is he saying...? Where have I heard that before...?)

Fujiomi: But don't listen to me. I'm just a spiky-haired pretty-boy with no fashion sense and nothing better to do than cut you down. All I ever do is think about new ways to ruin your life.

It's at this point that I realize he's speaking to me in FLUENT ENGLISH. At this shock, I re-think everything he's said, and my mouth drops with horror. He had heard my conversation last night. Not only that, but he UNDERSTOOD what I had said, and was now parroting it all back at me in perfect English.

Shit.

I didn't even know how to respond. What do you SAY to that??? Fujiomi shot me this LOOK, before cleaning his plates and leaving. Sukiko was totally in the dark the whole time, and looked between Fujiomi and I. She obviously didn't understand too much English, and when he left, she asked me what he had said to me. I sighed. I really, really, REALLY did NOT want to tell Sukiko about what I had said the night before. Fujiomi was one thing, but Sukiko is one of the nicest people I've ever met. All she had done was take me around, showing me her country and help me adjust to her culture and school. The LAST THING I wanted to tell her was all the horrible things I had said about her country and her way of life.

I compromised by telling her that I had spoken to my friend last night, and that I was tired and upset from the hanami. I explained how I vented to my friend about Fujiomi, and I told Sukiko some of the things I had said about him. Sukiko immediately understood- she knew right away that Fujiomi must have heard me, because he is the only one in the house- besides the mom- that's really good at English. Sukiko explained that their mom had spoken to Fujiomi in English when he was growing up so that he would have an easier time of it in school. However, by the time Sukiko and Youto had come along, their mom was busier around the house and had to quit her job, so they didn't get the same advantage.

She and I walked to the train station talking about it, but we fell silent on the train. Even when we got off the train, she and I walked in silence. GOD, I was furious. FIRST, because Fujiomi had eavesdropped on me. I don't care what ANYONE says, he must have been listening to me talk for over twenty minutes to hear all of that. There's no way he just "walked by" and overheard me. Second- and this is what REALLY got me- he spoke English! Not just Engrish like everyone else, but REAL, FLUENT ENGLISH!! You would THINK that he MIGHT have mentioned that a bit sooner. I thought back to all the times he laughed at me while I struggled to pick up Japanese, and how he gave me a hard time when I would email my friends in English. Not even once did he try to help me out, or translate something for me, or even acknowledge that he spoke any English at all. Ugh- I remember all the times over the past WEEKS I talked badly behind his back in English, calling him all sorts of awful things, smug in my ignorance that he couldn't understand me. He was probably laughing to himself that whole time, thinking what an idiot I was.

All these thoughts and more rushed through my head on that walk to school, and by the time we arrived I felt like I was dragging around a two-ton weight.

Things didn't get interesting until lunch.

(To be continued. After I finish the next post, I might include some of the compliments and notes I've recieved so far from the boys here. I'm always happy to take other requests, so if there's something you want to hear about, feel free to ask!)

Have you ever just felt completely beaten down by the world? Like, your whole life is a never-ending series of "Who-or-what-can-ruin-my-day-the-most"? That's how the past two weeks have been for me.

Now that I have a short "holiday" (*cough-hack-wheeze*), I plan on killing myself by updating EVERY DAY for the rest of the week to catch up. Let's get started, shall we?

After I left off, Fujiomi and I were getting along. WERE. Past tense. He and I talked, and afterwards, a much more peaceful atmosphere was prevalent throughout the house. No, more than the house. I think the whole nation of Japan was at peace while Fujiomi and I got along. The sun was brighter, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I even had a better time at school. Since the rest of the students now had Fujiomi's go-ahead, they talked to me a lot more. And so did the guys. I think I got hit on more times in those few days than I ever had in my whole life. It got to the point of ridiculousness- I found notes in my gym bag, in my desk, in my shoe cubby, and about a million phone numbers would be added to my phone when it wasn't strapped to my side. I didn't know guys were ALLOWED to do that- just steal a girl's phone and add their number in as they pleased. I got asked out a lot after school- mostly on group "dates" to a tea shop or for karaoke. Trust me- they all had a great time when I got up and started singing the few anime theme songs that I know. I also performed my rendition of "Dirrty", which was a real crowd pleaser. Everything was going great.

I even went to a hanami. I can't TELL you how excited I was. There was a neighborhood function two weekends ago, sort of like a festival but without as many games. There were a ton of food carts, though. I was happy because I got to wear one of Sukiko's yukata. It was difficult at first- I'm a bit more curvy than she is, so her mom had difficulty folding it in the right places, but int he end it fit well. I was suprised at how hard it is to move in, though- you have to take these really short steps, with your feet right in front of each other, or the yukata starts to slip open. It was hard to get used to- but easier to get used to than the STARING I got.

If there is one thing a foreigner has to get used to here in Japan, it's staring. I know that. You know that. We ALL know that. When a foreigner even opens their mouth to say, "Hai', or picks up a pair of chopsticks, it's like every person in Tokyo drops what they're doing to STARE OPENLY at you. So to dress in "their" clothes is even more shocking for them. Fujiomi was certainly suprised. He was in a yukata, too, and I laughed at him. He was so obviously uncomfortable in it,a nd it didn't really suit his surly attitude or modern haircut. I said he looked like an old man getting out of the bath- and he whipped around and said I look like a bad foreign prostitute. But we both knew the otehr was joking, so it was all good.

The hanami was great. Everyone said hello to everyone else, and the cherry blossoms were wonderful to look at. Sukiko met up with her boyfriend, and told Fujiomi to escort me. He mumbled something like, "Shut up. I'm not gonna run away from her." and told me to walk faster. He and I went around to where most of the teenagers were hanging out, while Sukiko's mom and dad stayed where all the food carts and petty dealers were. Whenever there's some kind of neighborhood gathering, salesmen from all over start coming out of the woodwork, and set up booths trying to sell you everything from radish slicers to computer parts. Fujiomi and I avoided that, and turned right. We ran into a lot of our classmates, and it was a nice mix of traditional and modern clothes. You really get a sense of Japan's culture when you see people in kimono standing next to people in jeans. However, WAY too many girls tried to get a peek under Fujiomi's yukata, in my opinion. A hint for you men out there, Japanese women are NOT the serene, gentle blossoms you think they are. They will dig their nails into you and NOT LET YOU GO until they have picked out apart from the inside out. At least, that's my impression. I was suprised at how calmly Fujiomi delt with them, though. He was really polite and conversational, talking to them all, not picking favorites and smiling and being all around friendly. I ran into Mai, and a few other girls from our class, and we walked around a bit. I was kind of the center of attention for a while- with my bright hair and a green yukata, I stand out, and I know it. Some of the boys asked me to pose underneath a really pretty tree full of cherry blossoms, and they wanted to have my picture. I was flattered, and said yes. Unfortunately, this is where things started to get out of hand.

A tip for girls: if you go to Japan, there WILL be strange people asking for your picture. This is normal. However, if these people have PROFFESSIONAL looking cameras, and tehre is more than three of them taking your picture, RUN AWAY.

In my case, it was only a few boys from school. Thsoe few boys turned into about fifteen boys, whipping out cameras and shouting for me to do different poses. "Touch your hair." "Look this way!" "Shut your eyes!" "Smile over here!" "Smell the blossoms" "Look over your shoulder!" "Show me your wrists, please!" This caught the attention of everyone else walking by, and suddenly I had HALF THE IMMEDIATE UNIVERSE surrounding me by that damn tree. It was around this time that I started getting nervous, but I couldn't see Mai or Fujiomi or anyone I knew. Really bright flashes were going off, and I was being asked for my name and address. I tried to get away from the mob, but they wouldn't part to let me out. FINALLY, I had to turn around, walk BEHIND the tree, and climb over the tree roots and rocks to get away from them. This effectively RUINED my yukata, and I felt it start to come loose.

Well, I thought, the best course of action is to go home now. Maybe someone will be there that can help me with this freaking robe, and I can call Sukiko and meet up with her. About two blocks from the house, I saw Fujiomi and three of his friends up ahead. They were walking pretty slow, and I wasn't sure if I should approach them, or slow down. I called out to Fujiomi, and they all turned around. The boys smiled and said hello to me, but Fujiomi asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

One of the other boys asked me if the ghost from the cherry tree had gotten me*, and while the rest of them laughed, I told Fujiomi that some people had been taking my picture and gotten carried away. His friends said that otaku guys always snap pictures of pretty girls to "look at" later, and Fujiomi asked me who had taken my picture.

*There is a Japanese legend that says there are bodies buried beneath the sakura trees, and the blood of the dead is what stains the blossoms pink and red. They say that if you anger the ghost that lives in the sakura tree, you and your family will be cursed for as long as that tree stands, or something. In any case, it was a really corny joke.

Me: I dunno. A lot of people. At first it was just a few boys from school, but then more people came around, and girls and boys from other schoold took my picture, too. There were a few guys with really fancy cameras, too. They looked proffessional.

Fujiomi: Professional?

Boy 1: Like a paid photographer?

Me: I guess. There were a few of them- they had funky clothes on, like low-rank yakuza.

Fujiomi: What did they say to you? Did you give them your name or address??

Me: NO! I ran away- and my yukata came loose, so I rushed back here. That's all that happened.

Boy 2: Sometimes guys like taht just pose as photographers, but they're really perverts that like to take and sell pictures of pretty girls.

Fujiomi suggested that we all get in the house, and the other boys went ahead into the living room while he kept me in the entrance way to fix my yukata. There are two sashes and some kind of elastic belt that go to yukata; for me, the second sash had come loose, so Fujiomi had to stand behind me while I held my arms out,a nd he reached around me to re-tie it in the front. I remember thinking at the time that Fujiomi uses WAY too much product on his hair, but that no one could really tell from far away. He kept muttering to himself in Japanese, cursing while he tried to re-tie it; he's not really the patient kind, and he would tell me to stand up straighter or hold my arms out more. He finally got it, and he told me to serve his friends tea while he went back to make sure I hadn't been followed. "Tell them I went to the corner store if they ask. I'll be back soon." he said. Bossy, bossy.

But- I did what he suggested, and went to serve the other boys tea. Kneeling on a tatami mat in that yukata is NOT comfortable unless you're used to it. Every time I adjusted my position, I had to make sure the front of my yukata wasn't wide open. They other boys thanked me for serving them, and said that they were lucky to be served tea by me. this led to the topic of their girlfriends.

Boy 1: My girlfriend doesn't do anything for me anymore. She used to visit me in class and make me food, but now all she does is whine about her parents and make me buy her things.

Boy 2: At least you HAVE a girlfriend. Fuumi-chan dumped me over two months ago and I still haven't gotten over it.

Boy 3: I just started dating my girlfriend, and she's already smothering me. Everywhere I look, there she is. She's nice, but way too attached to me. It's creepy.

Nice to know that the efforts of Japanese women are paying off.

They asked me about relationships in MAerica, and I told them that back in the States, the rules about dating and friendship were much more relaxed. People held hands and kissed in public almost all the time. However, girls were a bit more picky when it came time for sex. At least, the girls where I'm from are that way, anyway. Also, Americans wait longer to get married, and the women are more independant. they asked me what kinds of things I did for my boyfriend, and I had to admit I had never really had a steady boyfriend before.

Hysteria errupted.

They began telling me all kinds of things that Japanese girlfriends did for their boyfriends, and the little rituals that boys would do in return, like giving the girl the second button off his jacket, sharing umbrellas, and taking her shopping. The girls, apparently, were supposed to bake and cook for their boyfriends, write them notes, and act all-around cute.

Boy 1: The perfect girlfriend would be innocent and demure, with a cute sense of humor. She would have big eyes and plump lips, and blush when I complimented her. She would wear adorable, girly clothes, and have long smooth hair