Halting the Hydration

I'm not sure how your eyes keep busy when using the bathroom. Mine watch the flow. I want to know if I'm  hyrdated. Today, while spraying within the comfort of the urinal, I noticed a golden current. "Oh no," I thought, "we need to remedy this!"

I powerwalked my way back to the office and quickly filled my water bottle. I had no time to pound the H20 as I had to meet a teacher downstairs. So I brought my bottle with me. Together we made out as I strutted the hallway saying "What's up?" to the dismissed students. My jittering hands had something to keep me busy and I was solving 'Crisis Yellow.' Damn was I cool. But someone disagreed.

One of my eccentric 3rd year students, immediately shoved her soapy hands in my face. "NO!" she shouted. Pointing to the bottle, I realized I had broken a social behavior code. Then with an absurd mixture of Japanese, English, Sign-Language, and caveman grunts, I was bestowed a proper Japanese culture lesson.

I knew the Japanese refrained from eating on the go, but with all of the beverage vending machines, I wasn't aware drinking and walking was taboo. It appears Project Hydrate will be scaled back to office based operations. While my career as a 'mobile hydrater' may have spanned all of 3 minutes, I am proud of my success, and greatly appreciate the kind words from that だいたんふてき (daring, brave) student.
Let it be known no one is more honest than a child. Especially, a weird adolescent girl. Sadly, society brushes off their opinions as trite fodder. Though Shakespeare taught me to value the 'fool,' and to take everything in earnest.

Drink responsibly!

From Okinawa With Tax

What's in the bag?

     Walking the aisles of my friendly Japan super markets I often think, "I've never seen that before." Today, strolling past torii-themed displays thoughts of "I've REALLY never seen that before" brought me to a halt. I knew my wallet was a dead man.
     There must have been six kiosks full of "exotic" fare. Lost in a world of kanji, I searched for a familiar friend.
     "Where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are!" Presto, there he was, English! 'Okinawa,' was conveniently written on some of the packages. "All this crap is from Okinawa?" Then I recalled Japan's edible omiyage (souvenir) obsession.
     One could hit-up these displays and fake a trip to Japan's tropical islands. Simply pickup some goodies and hand them to a co-worker bragging about your vacation that NEVER happened. Or if Okinawa is in your future, stock up now to spare your luggage the burden.

Purchases from Okinawa

(by way of Aomori)

     I couldn't pass up the 'Are These Muffins' Muffins. I'm also a sucker for bizarre chocolate, which made the purple potato Kit-Kats impossible to ignore. Next came Pineapple and Shikuwasa (lime) hi-chew, followed by purple potato caramel and some soft pineapple candies. Things got pricey with 450 yen caramel boxes of Mango and Kokutou (Okinawa's traditional brown sugar). Though with only 14 pieces each, these caramels didn't disapoint. While the rest of the candy just tasted 'different.' Probably as a result of me sporting fewer taste buds than a corpse.
     Then I lawfully abided by the Girlfriend Act of 200 BC. Whenever buying something, a minimum of 25% of that said purchase must be set aside for the lovely lady. So I tossed in a bag of fruity gooey thingies.
     These edibles are intriguing and if you ever happen to be in Okinawa or a grocery store that pretends it is, say a prayer for your wallet.

The Flyer

Episode 1

The Phantom Chanpuru

The Flyer

Episode 2

Attack of the Fruits

Englishanese: Round 16

Guest Starring: The Crave

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Seriously Africa get with the program.

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It should read "I skipped beauty"

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It's true

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Elton John Clothing Company

Englishanese: Round 15

Fun with Clothes

Made in America?

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For Christmas, I'm buying Japan Ls.

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Positive Message

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Unexpected Surprise

Even the Japanese think Western New Yorker's are losers.

Please Note: I'm from the Buffalo - Rochester area.

Hakodate: PR Suicide

"What kills a skunk is the publicity it gives itself."

Abraham Lincoln

函館市 (Hakodate), a southern port city in Japan's northern island of 北海道 (Hokkaido), is the ideal romantic getaway. Permitting, you avoid their tourist brochures. I haven't the faintest clue how well they advertise in native 日本語 (Japanese), but I get the feeling their English translator is not a fan of their job. Read to believe:

finishing a sentence can make all the difference

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but not well enough to place them

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honesty isn't always the best policy

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and if you don't, good luck

American Mouth

"It's time for the party to make some sound."

Republic Tiger's 'Golden Sand'

Before arriving in Japan, I knew my crazy, obnoxious ways wouldn't get past Japanese customs. So I cut my hair, hid the earrings, and left behind the rainbow shoes. Though the most difficult trait to leave behind was my mouth. The days of walking out of a grocery store shouting, "JANICE!," or "My water just broke" became merely memories of my cherished past. 


This lavish tongue of mine came quite in handy as a teacher at an ignorant high school just outside of Miami. The school lacked discipline, not only with the students, but especially with the teachers and parents. Often times, I would put my Howard Stern meets William Wallace voice to use captivating the minions towards freedom and order. At the Christmas luncheon I served as the bouncer, and took pleasure in denying a handful of would-be free-loaders access to bountiful holiday treats. At a Sports Careers conference, I proclaimed to all of my students "Thank you for not being ghetto like these other schools." And while at the annual Grad Bash field trip to Universal Studios, a militia of misfit female hoodlums breezed their way past the wimpy white kids too afraid to challenge minorities. When they got to me, I said with no fear, "Hell no, where do you go to school, Ghetto High?" Sure they eventually snuck past me, but at least someone spoke up.


I will be heard, for good or bad. Despite my love of commanding the troops, my ulterior motive is strictly selfless. Unfortunately, my God given talent has no place to sail in the still waters of Japan. Most affairs are quite organized with participants full of respect for one another. Until one night...


It was the annual farewell party, 送別会 (soubetsukai), and things were as they should be. Bashful spies waited for their peers glasses to need a refill, installments of raw fish an unidentified salads were placed on the table's center rotating circle thingy, and of course a parade of speeches closed many an eye. The teacher next to me and I even took bets on the length of each speech. Then later in the evening, while trying to find a polite exit from the "You are scivvy (perverted), me too!" bonding session with the phys ed teachers, there was a call for help. 

The soft spoken master of ceremonies was asking everyone to return to their seats, which wasn't happening. So I vanished, and faster than you could dip your salmon into the soy sauce, I invaded the podium. And in Japanese equal to that of a fetus I shouted, "EVERYONE, SIT DOWN! THANK YOU, PLEASE!" I was like Moses, parting the red sea of drunken faces. I wouldn't know about herding sheep, but it was as easy as driving away women at a night club. In a flash, they had all returned to their seats, minus the geography teacher who's head could pass for a globe. When I made it back to my table, I was given a hero's welcome. The baseball coach gave me an authentic fist pound and poured so much beer in my already full glass that the carpet got tipsy. I knew the risks involved with "breaking protocal," but I just had to open my American mouth. I'm glad I did.

The Poop Prick

"Don't worry, be crappy."

Guy Kawasaki

Perhaps, I'm just young. Or perhaps, just maybe, Japan gets too personal when it comes to health exams. Today my supervisor handed me my health exam packet. While looking through his, he pulled out a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be syringes. 

Shocked, I asked "You have to do your own blood test?"

"Not blood," he said, "droppings." I wanted to believe that by "droppings" he meant something else. 

Relief came, at least for half a moment, as he shook his head while I said "Fecal matter?" But when he folded out the pamphlet, my worse fears hit the fan. 

But the big question remained unanswered. "Was this vile bag in my envelope?" Like a log belonging to a constipated man, my hand moved cautiously. But to my smiles, no bag was found! 

"Maybe you are too young," said my supervisor. Whatever the reason, I'm just thankful I don't have to stab my turd. I don't even want to know where this is supposed to go down. In the toilet while it's floating about? Or do you build a paper towel foundation, 15 layers strong? But how do you even get the turd there? This sort of activity would have been enjoyable when I was a seven year old boy.

Well, at least I know I can't stay in Japan for too long. But now I'm wondering if this bizarre test will be waiting for me elsewhere.

I wasn't joking!

Caramel Caravan

"Love was always the goal, and my point every step of the way was that nothing is wrong with love, no matter what flavor it comes in."

Ani Difranco 

While on a weekend journey to Hakodate, a southern port city in Hokkaido, I noticed quite a variety of unusual caramel flavors. "Corn caramel? Cantalope caramel?" These boys were just too odd to sit on the shelf. So I quickly snatched up a few of the 18 piece boxes. But as I hopped from one お土産 (omiyage, souvenir) shop to the next, more intoxicating flavors surfaced. "Beer caramel? Wine caramel?" Ranging from 105 to 165 yen, they were too tempting to pass up. I knew Hokkaido, Japan's northern island was known for their caramel, but this was getting ridiculous. After the third round of purchases, my obsessive compulsive spirits overtook my soul and wallet. The goal of relaxing the day away quickly changed to storming every building with a cash register in search of additional caramel specimens. Twenty eight boxes later, I had captured every brand I could find. Though, sadly I've been made aware that more flavors such "Guarana" are hiding out there just waiting to be chewed. But without further ado, I humbly ask you to board the キャラメル キャラバン (Caramel Caravan), as we review 28 varieties of caramel, and rate them on a scale of 1 to 3 stars. Buckle up, it's going to be a sticky ride!

Caramel Caravan: Group 1

Corn Caramel

** / Novelty Worthy

If you can get past the instant realization that this caramel is corn flavored, richness will invade your tongue. Though sadly the initial taste of microwaved buttery mashed corn lowers this overall enjoyable caramel down to 2 stars.

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Genghis Khan Caramel

*** / Must Purchase

Gengis Khan, a Mongolian barbeque of lamb and mutton has long been a specialty of Hokkaido. The Japanese have a PHD in taking the local food and blending it into every possible お土産 (omiyage / souvenir) item, in this case caramel. I must say, that these two foods are PERFECT STRANGERS! Talk about a tasty tag team. The saucy meaty flavor stays with you throughout the duration of your chewing experience.

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Potato Caramel

* / Blandness Abounds

The state of Idaho has a reputation of being boring, probably due to it also being known for potatoes. We must realize that unless they are mashed with butter and milk, or fried in a pond of grease, potatoes are as boring as your couch potato uncle (pun intended). The initial taste is that of a raw uncooked potato, and while this soon fades we're left with an uninspiring non-distinct flavor. Consequently, I have no qualms in pummeling the potato caramel with 1 star.

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Soup Curry Caramel

** / Uniqueness Not To Be Missed

Soup Curry, born in Sapporo, Hokkaido, as its name implies is a liquid curry loaded with vegetables and rice. While I thoroughly enjoy Japanese Curry Rice, this particular breed is quite the spicey beast! This caramel will turn your mouth into a curry fireplace. It may be not be a shot of whiskey, but a chaser is highly recommended. In fact, despite its parade of fragrant flavors, it earns just 2 stars on account of the spice factor.

Caramel Caravan: Group 2

Butter Caramel

* / No Thanks

Please pass the butter, but spare me the caramel. When my beloved butter loving Grandma joined heaven's roster, I adopted her buttery ways. Though, these pint sized caramels dropped the ball. You're treated to a 1/2 second taste of butter before it vanishes into a mellow faint flavor hardly resembling caramel. "Ya best butter not bite into 1 of deez boys."

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Melon Caramel

** / Melonrific

Not too sweet, not quite sour, perhaps a drizzle of tangy. Whichever way you slice it, this Melon is a winner, and fruitily speaking one of the few caramels that run the flavor marathon. The wonderful aroma of cantaloupe will stay with you throughout your chewing endeavor. Though this fun caramel finishes shy of 3 stars merely because not all God's children embrace the cantaloupe as I do. But for those who do, treat yourself to a pack!

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Melon Soda Caramel

* / The Pretender

If Melon wasn't enough, say hello to the "Melon Soda" flavored caramel complete with Hokkaido's infamous "uppity" mascot Marimokkori. Just like its brothers and sisters, this caramel starts the party right. A light carbonated texture crawls over the tongue as a sprinkle of melon tickles. And then the cops come to bust the party. But unlike its siblings, you're not left with caramel. It's worse! An uninvited bubblegum flavor shows up. Quite the disappointment, as Melon Soda Caramel goes flat fast.

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Sapporo Beer Caramel

* / A Foamy Frown

Three chews in, and the anticipated beer flavor decides to show up. But instead of Hokkaido's own Sapporo draft goodness, your taste buds play host to skunky beer foam. Luckily, as in reality, the foam flavor fizzles. But like so many other novelty caramels, you're left with blandness. I wasn't expecting great taste, especially with a .01% alcohol percentage, but this caramel could have at least bought a round.