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Me
I pretend to be an intellectual.
I'm actually reading a porno.For all my old readers...don’t bother reading this. This is for all my new readers who invariably ask me the question: “I don’t want to read 40 backed up entries, can you give me a quick summary of the blog?”
Well here you go, in semi chronological order:
Me: As the protagonist of this blog, I guess it’s vital to know a little about me. I’m Asian, 20 years old and trying to find a girlfriend. Not to say that I don’t get girls (I think I do fairly well in that regard), but roping them into a relationship is one of my many weaknesses. It’s a conundrum. Random sex is mad easy. Relationships are mad hard.
Just so it’s clear, I’m completely different in person because this blog is my alter ego. Like Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. Like Marshall Mathers/Slim Shady. Like Mexican/Dependable worker. So I’m not (that big of) an asshole.
Alisa 1.0 (Never mentioned on the blog): The first Alisa I liked. She was an upperclassmen during my years in high school. She was hot, sexy, funny, witty…but had a long term boyfriend. She was the worst cuz she was the first and started the Alisa curse.
Ellipses/Parentheses (Check out any entry): I use them too much…(yes…I…do…)
My First Summer (Never mentioned)-Japan: Craziness ensues as I return to the land of my roots in the summer of ’06 (the first summer of university). I worked as an English teacher and did all the stupid shit English teachers in that country end up doing: drinking way too much, blowing my monthly paycheck in the first two weeks of a month, railing my students and almost getting arrested for various altercations with the residing populace.
NYC: The place of my birth and upbringing. The best city in the world.
Yes, I really am from New York City. Not upstate, not Long Island, not Jersey. New York City. Manhattan. The center of the universe.
Pitchers: Viable girls.
Timeline of my life: -Born and raised in New York City
-Left NYC for university in Montreal, Canada.
-First summer of university: Japan, Part 1
-Second summer of university: Japan, Part 2 (where this blog picks up)
-Calgary+Montana Trip in the winter
-Third summer of university: Texas
Teddy (mentioned everywhere): A crazy motherfucker from Calgary. Probably my best friend in Montreal and a main character in almost every single blog entry. He’s crazy. I’m crazy. Combine us and you get instant combustion.
I met him in a room party in my first year of university. With his gaudy outfit (a suit and a flask of brandy), he was clearly at the center of the party. I looked down at myself (a hoodie and a 40), realized I was losing to some hotshot motherfucker from Canada, so I challenged him to something I knew I was amazing at, a freestyle rap battle. I destroyed him, he retreated sulking to his corner and the tables were flipped. I was the man of the party.
He later challenged me to a dance battle in a club, destroyed me and our relationship has been built on this foundation of mutual respect. Check
his blog to understand him better.
Transitions (everywhere): I suck at them. Next!
Humorous Similes (everywhere): I’m naturally good at using them like promiscuous girls.
College Fratboy Douchebags: The worst type of human ever. At least Nazi’s don’t wear their caps backwards.
45 Year old Women, Japanese-Americans, Elementary School Friends and Dumb Blondes (here): For some reason, this is my most popular entry. It got 300 hits in two weeks and keeps getting viewed. If my hit counter were equal to the one on this entry, I wouldn’t be complaining about girls.
I have no idea why this entry is so popular. My writing in it is pretty shoddy, the material I cover is pretty bland and its one of my longest entries.
Maybe it's the way I open it up with a bang?
D-German: My roommate. The most sarcastic person I have ever met (and I’m from the capital of sarcasm, NYC).
K-Bomb (mentioned here): Currently D-German’s girlfriend. Weird history between us…read about it.
Acerbic Wit: A description of my writing style by one of my readers.
Degradation of the English Language: A description of my writing style by one of my readers.
My Second Summer-Japan, Part 2: The best summer of my life. Girls, money, crazy stories, I had it all in the summer of ‘07. I interned in a financial company so not only was I rolling in money, I had a nice supply of smart/cute/rich prospects at my disposal (or “for my disposal”). I was blowing money on alcohol everyday, banging chicks like a cruel farmer and generally being stupid. Compounded on this was doing ridiculous stuff with Teddy. I started the blog that summer as a place to brag about my wild stories (Osaka, Genki Juice, Streaking, etc.).
Though it was easily the craziest summer I’ve ever had, it was a sobering experience because…
Alisa 2.0/The Sly Veteran/AY (mentioned here and here): She was another intern at the financial company I worked at. She was easily the girl I liked the most in all 19 years at that point, but I completely ignored my feelings. Why? Because my life was moving at a 10,000 miles per hour as I tore through Tokyo. Only when things started slowing down (the subsequent plane ride back to America), did I realize I genuinely loved her.
But it was too late.
She got a boyfriend after I left and she’s been with him for over a year. I later found out from a mutual friend that she had liked me during that summer. FUCK!!!!
M.I.A. (mentioned here): One of many randoms I messed around with at the same company instead of chasing after Alisa 2.0. She gave me third in the middle of the street!! Yet another reason why I love Japan and yet another reason why I didn’t get Alisa 2.0.
Internet Handles/Nicknames: People always ask me in private messages why I use them instead of the people’s real names. Because:
1) You usually remember characters if they have a name like S&M instead of something boring like “Steve”.
2) It tells you something about the person that I otherwise would not waste my breath saying. For example, the name “Nerdy K-Chick’s Best Friend” tells you a lot about my relationship with this girl.
3) I realize how explosive the material on this site would be if it got into the wrong hands. Therefore, in order to shrink the Google footprint this blog takes up, I mention nobody by name (except clear exceptions…like Teddy, Chiaki, etc.). I don’t want my father, for example, typing up my name into Google and stumbling upon this blog.
The only way someone finds out about this blog is by word of mouth or if a random Travelblog writer browses around. This blog can’t be found by my family, by the girls I go after or by authority figures unless someone snitches.
Stop Snitchin’.
4) Though I do write about my life and publish it in a public forum, I want some decency of privacy. It’s bad enough when some random reader tells me, “You should rail HKW!” but imagine how I would feel if you knew her real name and gave me the same advice.
5) I love coming up with witty names for the people around me.
Wingman Responsibilities: Help your friends get girls (or boys, in some cases), and they shall help you.
KVP (mentioned here):~error~ private photo 2886372
A girl I liked last year but due to many extenuating circumstances, I could not go after...now I guess we're platonic?
Fighting: I’m not big, strong or good at it. But I get into a lot of them due to an abrasive personality, a motto of “Act first, think never” and I’m usually accompanied by an absurd amount of alcohol flowing in my system.
My Fight Tally (in university):
07/2006 Win vs 3 Yakuza Low-Life Thugs in Yokohama, Japan
Details: Man thought he was a hot shot because he had two friends and Japanese people are meek. I am not meek. He said something and I immediately KO’d him with a punch. Trash talked my way out of fighting the other two. Heavy drinking involved in my part.
08/2007 Win vs Drunk Salaryman in Tokyo, Japan
Details: Challenges me to a fight. He didn’t expect me to respond, accept or to beat his ass.
07/2008 Loss vs Huge-ass mofo in Texas
Details:
Here.
10/2008 Tie vs Random Black Guy in Montreal
Details: He cat-called my friend. I was angry that HKW had not contacted me in 10 days. Vented my frustration by pounding him. He equally pounded me. Cops broke it up. He would’ve kicked my ass.
Genki Juice (mentioned here): Literally, it means energetic juice. It’s basically liquid Viagara. Hilarity ensues when I mistake it for an energy drink after a hard night of partying.
Baseball: In the literal sense, my favorite sport to watch, to follow, to play, to hate, to love.
In the literary sense, its an analogy Teddy came up with for relationships with girls. Girls are pitchers, you are the hitter. Your team (or lineup) is composed of your friends who help you get home. Her team (or her defense) is composed of her friends who try to thwart you at every step.
Obviously, the bases are clearly marked out—first is kissing, second is chest, third is nether regions and home is home. From this basic analogy, there can be many strategies employed. For example, we will parse the following sentence:
“I hit a single, D-German tried to move me up but failed and Teddy sacrificed me to second.” I hit a single: I kissed her/made out with her and I was feeling good about our relationship.
D-German tried to move me up but failed: I was trying to go to the next level with this girl, and D-German tried to assist me. However, his plan failed so I’m still at first but I’m in a dicey situation considering there’s one out.
Teddy sacrificed me to second: Teddy sacrificed something to get me to second. A sacrifice can be anything where Teddy loses something for the better good of me. For example, he could be chasing a certain girl A, but instead of talking to A during the party, he graciously butters up the girl I’m chasing to ease my transition into second later. Clearly, Teddy has “sacrificed” a night here in the sense that he gains nothing…but the whole wingman responsibility theory is that I (or someone else) will help him out at some point.
You lose an out on a sacrifice though (just like real baseball) because there is some risk involved. Your target might become enamored with your wingman/hitter as they try to sell you as you’re out of the scene and your wingman is being socialable with her. After a sacrifice, you must do almost everything else yourself.
Just from parsing this small sentence, a lot can be learned.
And the analogy of baseball lends itself well to girls because many of the strategies employed in baseball directly correlate to girls. Smashing home runs left and right (just trying to have random sex) may be decent for the regular season (the long, arduous life of being single), but it usually won’t get you to the playoffs (a relationship) and most definitely will not get you to the championship (a long term relationship/marriage).
And…it tells you something important: You’ve got to play to win.
The Alpha Male (mentioned here): Someone who doesn’t have to play to win because he’s a physical specimen…motherfucker.
30 Km (mentioned here and here): The distance I ran. In Tokyo.
Naked.
The Depth Chart (mentioned here): A theory I stole from Teddy. A way to filter girls. The blog entry on it describes it better.
The 5-Man Rotation (mentioned here): Directly related to the baseball analogy, it's the theory that you can never get to the postseason without a solid 5-man rotation of pitchers. When one fails, you go down to the next and they keep you always firing. Invariably, you choose one to be your ace and try to get to the playoffs. In the playoffs, you rely almost solely on your ace.
I don’t really believe in this theory any more, as explained in
this entry.
Spit Game/Run Game: Hit on girls. Verbally.
The Chiaki Debacle/Montana+Calgary (there’s about ten entries devoted to this): The first girl I pursued hard. Every girl before then, I had either gotten due to sheer luck, random game or them asking me out. I had never chased a girl with the intent of a relationship until this girl.
I must admit, when I first met her, I was clearly chasing her for random tail (that story is
here). But by and large, the image of her grew on me (I guess it was also a fluid rebound opportunity after the failure of Alisa 2.0) and I was in love with a girl I met for all of 4 hours in a random park in a random fireworks festival in a very random part of the world.
When I met her in Calgary, her real self was better than the blurry image I had kept in my head and I was head over heels. Long story short (I blogged about every single day we were together in the Calgary+Montana montage so it's a looong story), all the signs were there, all the emotions were there and even my pussy-assed character was ready to man up…but she completely ignored me the last day.
I flew back to Montreal in defeat. Utter defeat. I hadn’t even gotten to talk to her on the last day.
Now, she seems like she’s getting interested in me (which doesn’t make sense considering nothing has changed since then)…but I’ve moved on. Among a slew of other reasons not to date her, foremost, distance. We’re 7,000 miles apart.
But I guess if I completely fail this year and I end up in Japan…the old flame can be relit…
Math: Something I’m good at. Other things I’m good at: poor eyesight, overwork, driving planes into carriers, being Japanese.
Everything else: Things I’m bad at.
Objectification of Women (mentioned everywhere): Something else I’m good at. Deal with it. I don’t believe women are objects, but they lend themselves well to metaphors and analogies that involve objects. So deal with it. And yes, I’m drawn to physical attraction like any other young single male, so I’m sorry that I label girls by hotness. Deal with it.
I also objectify men, but no one has a problem with it. I love hypocrites and double standards.
Kokuhaku Moment (mentioned here): The moment you tell a girl that you love her.
Prevalent in Asian culture, this scene usually involves the man running an absurd distance, hurdling over obstacles, fighting through gangs while his designer clothes and beautiful hair remain flawless. Sometimes accompanied by rain to accentuate the struggle, the man will profess his undying love, the woman will stare wide-eyed in disbelief, they will both cry and awkwardly kiss and then make passionate love on snow white sheets.
I believe in this theory even though it has never worked for me.
Or anyone else.
The Princess (mentioned here)~error~ private photo 2843199
A fellow Japanese friend of mine wasting away in this cold tundra up here in Montreal.
A few weeks ago...She was wasted, I was wasted. She liked someone else. I liked someone else. I guess alcohol > love as we ended up making out and hitting second in the middle of a club. I couldn't help but notice that the dirt around second base was a little roughed up...and then Teddy told me had hit second earlier as well.
Great minds think alike I guess.
Chikan (mentioned here): Getting felt up in crowded Tokyo rush hour trains.
It’s happened twice to me.
Was it a guy or a girl?
The best ride of my life.
Mustard Sandwich: Me and D-German were ridiculously poor this May (read some of it
here). For a week, I ate mustard sandwiches and he ate cabbage and lettuce. The only thing that kept me through these troubling times was…
Alisa 3.0/J-ZN: After the huge calamity involving Chiaki, I spent about two months moping. What brought me out of the dregs of life (youtube, studying, contemplations of homosexuality), was this girl. Very cute, perky and funny, she became the next girl that I went after.
Considering her name, I should’ve seen it coming. Professed my love, was told to “wait” while she came up with an answer and then was rejected by email.
Lesson: Girls named Alisa are nothing but pain.
Guns (mentioned here): I’ve shot a few (legally) in Texas. I’ve shot a few (illegally) in New York.
Cop Car (mentioned here): I’ve stolen one in Japan.
Osaka (mentioned here): Probably the most ridiculous story I have. It gets me respects from girls, guys, young, old…even college fratboy douchebags can’t top this story. Even the Alpha Male can’t top this story. In fact, no one has topped this story yet. I doubt anyone will.
The only people who hate it are feminists…but what do feminists like?
Besides constant haircuts.
Bookface: The sky blue Internet interface for stalking random people. Called Facebook by many, Bookface is the more appropriate name. It’s a tool you must grudgingly use when chasing Asians.
Maddy (mentioned here): The hottest girl I’ve been with. A model. She’s in a long term relationship now. We were “Friends with Benefits” for awhile but now we’re strictly platonic. She went from hot fucking to fucking hot.
My Third Summer-Texas: After getting denied by Chiaki, I felt no intention of going back to the country that harbored both her and Alisa 2.0 (while blatantly ignoring the fact that it harbored many, many more girls I would be successful with). So I decided to go to Texas for a complete change of scenery.
In Japan, even though I don’t act Japanese, I fit in. I look Japanese, I talk Japanese, my name is Japanese, and I can even act Japanese if the setting calls for it. In Texas, I stuck out like a black man’s boner in short shorts.
I was different. I was Asian. I was a Northerner. I was small. I was skinny. I was abrasive. I thought 50 degrees was warm. I don’t drive a pickup. I don’t shoot shit for fun. I can’t down 1 pound chili cheese hamburgers with bacon.
After not fitting in, I actually was able to do all that shit. I shot shit, got acclimated to 100 degree weather, ate monster-sized portions of meat, became (marginally) bigger, got nicer and even my race changed as several Texans confused me for a spic.
And though I expected my drought to continue in the desert, I actually managed to pull through with some hits in the clutch. And I got into a fight with a huge Texan. I partied with legit rednecks. I almost got with a 45 year old mother of three. I threw a rock at a redneck truck. I got smoked by a 5 year old pushing a shopping cart.
Texas was amazing. But I’m never going back.
The Texas Crew: -T-Camp: Black man from North Carolina
-S&M: White boy from Philly
-Izzo: Aryan from Boston
-Kaz: Native American from New Mexico
-HJ Machine: Hispanic from Puerto Rico
-Me: Asian from NYC
Total Diversity: Ridiculous.
Total homeruns: 2.
Grilled Cheese Sandwich: An Asian male flanked by two white females. Obviously, the girls are the white bread, the Asian the yellow cheese. The white girls are firm yet bland; the Asian is melting from the proximity of two hot pieces of bread. The two pieces of bread are usually thicker than the cheese.
This long-winded analogy was an excuse to put up this picture to the right.
The Drought Continues: A kicker sentence I use when I’m in a drought…which is all the fucking time.
My Readers: When it first started out, it was a small pocket of friends who wanted to keep tabs on me while I fucked around abroad. Starting with Todd in Atlanta, it slowly started spreading when Teddy linked me a few times. My readership shot through the roof this summer as I started writing pretty regularly (especially now when I started writing weekly).
My readership can be divided into three: my friends and loyal readers are the first group. Obviously I have no beef with them as they know a shitload about me and they usually have firsthand knowledge of the people/events featured in this blog.
The second group is randoms that love me. Usually it’s college fratboy douchebags who love that I objectify women and have the balls to publish it or some random loser who lives vicariously through my adventures of debauchery. I guess it’s cool that random nobodies are interested in a fellow random nobody like me but getting advice in the vein of, “You should fucking rail HKW and S-Jess in Montreal while having threesomes in Japan with Alisa 2.0 and Chiaki” is weird, disgusting and not realistic in any sense. And if you read more than one entry, you would easily see that this is not plausible or possible. But still, it makes me happy that someone actually cares about my mundane life for all of two seconds.
The third group is people that hate me. It’s either for my blatant objectification of women or my decidedly frank play by play of my life (especially when writing about sex) or it’s for my uncensored writing (politically incorrect humor and gratuitous motherfucking swearing). As I write at the top of this blog… “If you’re offended, close the fucking window.” You make the choice of reading my writing, so don’t complain when I’ve warned you.
Actually, keep reading and sending me private messages. I love to be loved and love to be hated.
S-Jess (mentioned here): Random bisexual friend who likes girls. Hot, but doesn’t seem to realize she is…which makes it easy to make fun of her. Especially since I don't need to worry about spitting game with her.
J-Popper: A Japanese person.
Japanophile: A (usually white) person in love with Japan…but for all the wrong reasons. They love Japan because of the anime, manga, video games, school girls and bad J-Pop music. Just to make it clear, this Western image of Japan is pretty fucking skewed: yes, people in Japan love this shit as well, but it's a tiny and distinct minority a la the geek culture in America.
Anyway, for a Japanese male, Japanophile females (usually found in Anime Clubs) are the easiest white girls to score with. All you need to do is to douse your hair with a gallon of gel, put on some extreme hipster clothes, research a few anime backstories and ask them to show you around their homecity as you throw random Japanese phrases into your English sentences. They eat that shit up like dung beetles.
The Shortstop (mentioned here): Met her through Alisa 2.0. A friend of mine who is ditzy, dumb and flirty. If she were white, she would be blonde.
Is this Blog Real? One of the most asked questions by new readers. The answer: Yes. Everything that happens in this blog is real. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.
Obviously, some minor details are slightly exaggerated for comical relief or for a generally better story. For example, I’m decent at sports, but it's a lot funnier to be self-deprecating about my athletic abilities. Its also is the stereotype of Asians, so the humor is compounded when I mention I really want to study instead of jumping and running.
But yes, everything is real. Everything here has happened to me. Considering the lack of creativity I’m afforded (blue or black pen for math homework?), I can’t make shit like this up. Plus, the pictures are a pretty good indication that I’m not fabricating some elaborate plot…and for the entries that don’t have pictures, trust me. Trust an Internet author you’ve never met and never talked to.
HKW:~error~ private photo 2843120
The girl I’m currently going after. The first time I used the depth chart to determine the girl I would go after. Funny thing is…the depth chart was right as I’m getting more and more attached to her…read the current entries if you want more info on her.
Batting Cages If baseball is the game of plating runs against girls...this simple, singular and private activity is the act of hitting...alone.
Because I don't have a girlfriend, I partake in this activity quite often instead of hitting against a live pitcher.
22: The age at which I want to get married. Considering my status (single, 21 years of age), this isn't going to happen.
Which means...
23: My new goal.
Which means...
Girlfriend/Ace Pitcher: I need one.
I'll update this entry as time passes...and more shit gets mentioned in my blog.
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C-Benz
non-member comment
Decisions Decisions
Yo dude, i was having a bit of time deciding whether i was in the first group or the second... i mean i love living vicariously through you, but I'm also like a total subscriber... hmmm.. either way keep it up because we all know that you're spitting game at least twice as much as any of our vicarious livers out on the interweb. Meanwhile, I'll continue my white-ass ways of searching for my Kokuhaku moment.