First off I'd like to give a big thank you to all of those who read my last "Adventures in Japan" post. The response was definitely overwhelming to think that one of my life stories was able to be so entertaining. Sometimes I imagine my life as a TV show but then again what would I do? I don't have any martial skills whatsoever. I speak English without the accent (on purpose). I'm not an 80 year Chinese man that is the wise grandfather who holds the magical monkey king's sphere in his rustic antique shop. Oh wait I think that was the premise to Jackie Chan's latest movie. I'm not Jackie Chan either. I guess I'm just a regular guy who just happens to be from the land of a billion people who just so happens to reside in London, Ontario. No big deal. But I think that's why you all find it so amusing. And for that I thank you.

So here is another fun story from my visit to the land of Japan.

As I had mentioned before the night we landed in Japan was quite the ordeal. I was traveling with my brother's two friends as we landed in the Narita International airport. Where is Narita you ask? I have no idea. But what I do know is that no one, absolutely no one there speaks English. After the grueling 16 hour flight on an airline that's not designed for anyone over the height of 5"8 we loaded our backpacks off the luggage carrier. Within the backpacks contained our life supply of clothes and such that would hopefully last us 2 1/2 weeks in the land of Sony. A word to the wise if you ever go backpacking in Japan. Don't bring a lot. Especially if you decided to travel in the summer. It is hot there. Not the hey let's get a popsicle and sit under a tree hot. It's the Dear Lord if I bend down on my knee and try to tie my shoe my knee will have 3rd degree burns hot. And humidity? If you ever think that downtown Toronto is muggy imagine an island smaller than Toronto but with 2x the people and 3x the pollution.

Sorry I got sided tracked back to the story.

As we embarked through the Narita airport trying to navigate our way through the exit signs which, by the way were all in Japanese we finally found out that we had to be at another airport. Now if we spoke Japanese we could have easily known that there was a fast connecting train ride there that would take us there in about an hour. But what kind of an adventure would that be? So instead of taking the right way. We decided "Hey it's a foreign country and we don't speak the language" let's take the bus. Why? Because it's cheaper.

The "cheaper" bus ride took 2 hours. I remember boarding the bus and it looked like one of those Japanese tour buses you see touring around. But this time they weren't Japanese tourist. They were just Japanese people. On a bus. Oddly enough they still looked the same.

On this bus we were the tourists. Tourists that didn't even think to get an Japanese-English dictionary. We are what you call dumbass tourists.

The bus ride was long. About 2 hours. Now that doesn't seem long but when you have NO idea where you are going it's long. And when you know that if you don't make it to the airport on time you won't make it to the hostel on time you get this deep down feeling in your stomach. It's called fear. And I'll be honest I didn't like it.

Fortunately we made it to the airport... finally. With about 10 minutes to spare. As we ran through the airport gates we boarded another flight that would take us to the Osaka International airport. Which would eventually take us to our hostel in Osaka. At this point we have been up for a total of 22 hours. Being up for 22 hours with a heavy ass backpack feels like I had been up for 42 weeks.

Honestly I don't even remember the flight from Narita to Osaka I remember getting on the plane and shutting my eyes and arriving. I think the flight was an hour and a half.

So finally we made it to Osaka and we were out of the woods. No. Not even close.

Then we had to take a subway all the way to where our hostel was located. The Japanese subway map I swear looked like a Tetris screen. And everything I looked at it it changed. Damn them and their technology.

The thing was we were on an extremely tight schedule we had to be at the hostel by 11pm or else they would shut the doors and we would basically have to sleep on the streets. In Japan. At night. No big deal. I fear the fear.

As we finally got off the subway we made it to where we thought we knew where the hostel was located. Unfortunately things are a little more difficult to navigate at night. It seemed like we were walking around this little downtown that had no lights on because well lights would make sense and frankly our trip didn't make sense so it just seemed to fit. I look at my watch 11:12pm.

Oh CRAP.

We frantically run up and down dark alley ways trying to find this street name. Stopping every so often to ask people for directions. Again. People in Japan don't speak English. Maybe they do in movies but then again there are always subtitles. Where were the subtitles when you needed them. Or at least an Japanese-English dictionary. Dumbass tourists.

Finally we are at our wits end and we see a little old lady walking her bicycle. What are the chances that this lady knows English? She must have been like 80. And no joke she was wearing a rice hat. We hesitate to approach her. Then she spots us. Oh no, we spooked her. Time to find another person. But then something great happens. She starts to approach us. It took a little while come on she's 80. She doesn't out right say she speaks English so we ask. "Do you speak English?" She doesn't reply. Great.

In desperate times you do anything. We ask again. "Do you know where this place is?" Pointing to the map with hopeful eyes. She nods. Yes. We smile. It was a lost in translation moment. She signals us to follow her. Now I know what you're thinking we are following a stranger. But come on she was an 80 year lady with a rice hat and a flower in her bicycle basket. And we basically would have follow anyone at that point.

And good thing we did because....

She leads us RIGHT to the hostel. It's 11:35pm. Oh Crap. We thank her profusely. I'm still convinced she knew English. Either way she saved us. Thank you bicycling rice hat lady. I am forever in your debt.

Now came the tough part trying to get in after curfew. And more importantly trying to convince the owner to let us in with the limited Japanese we possessed. If only we had a book that could translate English to Japanese. Go ahead and call me it you know you want to. I knew I should have watched Kill Bill before I left.

But to our surprise it was no big deal. As long as we had the cash for the room. And we did. Ball'in.

Finally something that went right. But the owner advised us that we only had 20 minutes before they shut the showers down. So we hustled into our rooms. Now the rooms themselves weren't too bad at all. They even had a TV in it. But the room was not big. Basically when I laid down my head touched the furthest wall and my feet touched the entrance door. But heck it beats the city street alley way. It even had air conditioning. Those Japanese are so clever.

At last it was shower time. After being up nearly 24 hours all I wanted was to shower and go to sleep. But oh no. It's never that simple. Because well in Japanese they don't have normal showers like they do in North America. Oh no. They have something else. A bath house.

4 guys in a bath house equals very awkward moments with careful planning of no sudden movements.

Let me paint you a picture. Or a visual nightmare.


There is this tiny room which can't be any larger than perhaps a standard bedroom size. Along the walls are these little mini stools. Like the small plastic step stools you can buy at Wal-mart. Next to each step stool lies a small bucket and in front of the stool is a mini shower head.

But again. The room is small. And well it's not just us four guys. It's a whole lot of middle-aged Japanese Men.

One thing I've learned is that unlike the female body the male body is not pretty. Things sag and hang where they shouldn't. Some men more than others. But for some reason they are never aware of how much they sag and how much movement occurs. Personal space is irrelevant.

So each step stool is positioned Extremely close to each other. I'm talking close. Let's say if they move too much the saggy parts have a tendency to wander. And I'm not exactly a political science major but that is definitely against foreign policy. Free trade is a good idea, but not in a bathhouse.

So here we are 4 North American guys learning how to clean the Japanese way.

The bathhouse way.

So me sticking out like a sore thumb at 6'4 had a very challenging task. As I positioned myself into the semi-fetal position on the small step stool I attempted to use the tiny shower head and plastic bucket to wash myself. While this was all happening I can hear the oddly strange bowel and oral sounds coming from what I can imagine a Japanese business man to my left and my right. Careful not to make very large moments in fear having a "real" Japanese bathhouse experience. Now you're thinking well that's fine at least you have a towel to just dry off and go. No. It's never that simple. Japanese tradition does not allow big towels in the bath house. Instead they provide me a napkin sized towel that barely cover well anything. Unless I wanted to cover my ear. Just one ear though.

So now you're thinking that's over. No. Have you learned nothing? Tradition has it that once the bathing is finished you "rinse" off in a heated pool of water. Similar to the hot springs. But in the bathhouse. Does this happen one at a time. No. Of course not. It happens about 5 at a time. And how big is the pool. Do I even need say it? Big people don't belong in Japan

So after the "cultural" experience I was about ready for bed. Just one more thing. I had been up for 24+ hours. Finally got my "shower" but one more thing I needed to do. The call of nature was strong and I was not one to go against the laws of nature. There is a lot of nature that builds up in 24 hours and it was time that it was released back in the wild. The wild world of Japanese sanitation.

No problem right.

No....No....No...Dear Lord...No

I made my way to the restroom to go about my business. Thinking that as soon as this was over I'd be fine.

Time 12:30am.

My first attempt at the restroom.

As I stepped into the stall I noticed something quite odd. Perhaps this bathroom was not a North American friendly washroom or the designers had neglected the thought that perhaps a 6'4 man would someday use this stall. Either way. It was small. And I was screwed.

Let me paint you another picture.

So as I stepped into the stall I noticed that the dimensions were not quite what I was used to. The toilet itself looked harmless although it had many more buttons that I had remembered but the dimensions from the end of the toilet seat to the end of the stall were quite alarming. They were shorter than I was used to. But short to the point that I couldn't sit down. Now I'm 6'4 but I'm all legs. So when I sit down my legs and most importantly my knees lengthen. This was not possible. I thought I was I must have been hallucinating. I attempted to sit down. But I couldn't get my knees down so I could sit straight. Now this was going to be a problem because I had a lot of Nature to release and the optimal positioning is knees at 90 degrees. So my years of potty training have shown me. But I couldn't do it. So I tried sideways thinking that would give me an advantage.

No. Not possible. The dimension of the door to the sides was just as short. So using my tactile thinking I thought I would just squat on top of the toilet. Failure. The toilet seat itself was not large enough and I had previously had arthroscopic surgery on my knees which didn't allow me to go into a full squat. Bonus.

Time 12:50am

20 minutes in the stall. Still no result. Nature put on hold.

So finally out of desperation I used what I called the "leg press" technique. So in order to effectively aim at the same time while giving myself a biomechanical advantage I propped my feet up as if I was doing a leg press in the gym against the front stall wall. That way I could use the force when needed to brace it against the stall door and still have a decent aim of the target.

Now this was a new technique that I had never tried before. And let me tell you. It is not easy by FAR when you have a lot of Nature to release. And really not the most comfortable position at all. But boy did my legs get a workout. It worked though. But it wasn't graceful. What's the opposite of grace? Shame. It was shameful.

Time 1:15am

Nature finally released.

Mission accomplished.

Now just flush. Easy enough? No.....*sobbing weep*

Again as I said before there were a number of buttons I was unfamiliar with on the toilet. I had never seen them in North America. But honest to God there was no handle. Just buttons. And of course the instructions were in Japanese. Great. My cultural sensitivity meter lay at an all time low.

I started to panic. The nature I had left was definitely in need of disposal. The smell alone was enough to panic. I guess being in there so long I had just gotten use to it. And you can never really smell your own brand. Well not die from it at least.

I resumed and began trying to follow the make-shift instructions on the toilet from the year 2020. Each combination responded with a lovely error message. Blast technology.
I could work an ipod but not a toilet what kind of Asian was I?

I pushed and I pushed and this wasn't even me on the toilet, it was just trying to flush it. Finally after a series of presses I didn't get an error message. But to my resolve a flush did not occur.

Nothing happened. I was curious. A little frightened. I stared it with utter despise. I looked on the top portion of the toilet and noticed a little opening.

Word to the wise you see a little opening on the top of a Japanese toilet don't look down it. I know this now from firsthand experience.

As I starred down at it to my surprise my face was introduced to a shot of streaming water. Thank goodness it was not brown. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't spring water. Yes I know that's what you were thinking. If that were so I have no dignity left. As I began to soak from the spraying water just hoping it did not share the same home as my nature I managed to shut it off.

Time 1:30am

I had been in there awhile.

I'm sure I hear some other residences coming in and out of the washroom wondering what on earth I was doing in there but too polite to ask. I figured well I'll just leave then. What can I do? But knowing that I was in different country with a very conservative culture I just couldn't bear to do it. How could I leave such a mess for the poor janitor that would have to come and clean up.

So in times of despair what do I do? I start to yell out to my brother "Tor". As I'm peering through the bathroom stall trying to yell out to him luck would have it he comes in to brush his teeth.

Vince: Yo Tor!

My brother looks around the restroom confused as he continues to practice good oral hygiene.

Vince: Yo TOR!

Vic: Vince?

Vince: YEAH

Vic: Umm you're still in the washroom? I thought you went to sleep already.

Vince: No man I've been in here forever. I don't know how to flush the toilet

Vic: Push the handle stupid.

Vince: There IS NO HANDLE!

Vic: What?

Vince: You need to come in here and help me.

Vic: Gross, no way.

Vince: SERIOUS! It's gross I need to flush it!

Vic: Oh man.

That's a brother.

I don't know how he did it but on the first try. It flushed. No error message. No shooting water geyser. Nothing. Just the sweet sound of a good flush.

Finally I could go to sleep.

Time: 1:50am

Until next time........

I'm out.

Wince

So this is my long awaited (and by awaited I mean by myself) start to my brand new blog for Facebook. Now why on earth would I begin this particular blog you ask? And I hope you asked, well it's because it seems to me that with the overwhelming response to the quote section in my personal profile that many people are quite interested in the everyday life events that occur in my household.

The Asian Household.

Yes. Those quotes are all real. I wish I could say that they are embellished but no they aren't. My parents are exactly like that and for those who have met them they can completely attest to their character description.

I love my parents. But they are racist. In a cute way of course. They don't know any better. And they don't mean any harm by it. They are just honest. And sometimes a little too honest. They think nothing of making it a point to lock the car doors when they drive by black people. Not because they've done anything wrong but to them it seems like the thing to do.

This first blog or we'll call it a chapter will begin with a story. For my certain friends who have heard the story it will not be a shock but for those who haven't heard this particular story it's a good one. I think one of life's important and great things is the ability to laugh and make light of your situation no matter what it is. And being able to share my humiliation with those around seeing their utter shock or outburst of laughter makes the situation just seem better.

Today's first story is what I liked to entitled

"Camping in Northern Ontario"

This adventure occurred almost 5 years ago when I was in my 3rd year of university. I was studying at York at the time (please refrain from jokes here I've heard them all) and I was doing my internship at the University of Toronto. I had the fortunate opportunity to live downtown Toronto with my good buddy Ryan. It was nearing August and I had just spend the previous months just barely surviving Organic Chemistry and to this day I still don't understand those reactions.

I can remember I had just finish my examination in which I believe I had created some reactions that did not even exist in the world and were then not acceptable on my final exam. After the tumultuous examination day I received a phone call from my older brother. We'll just call him Tor since he hates it when I tell stories about him. So Vic gave me a call all the way from Australia where he was studying Law. He had just finished his semester and was getting ready to come home back to Canada.

The conversation went something like this...

Vic - *grunt* Yo
Vince - *grunt* Yo
Vic - you finished school yet?
Vince - Just finished today.
Vic - Want to go somewhere?
Vince - Where?
Vic - Japan?
Vince - Japan?? I was thinking like Wonderland

Vic - No serious Japan
Vince - What? I can't afford to go to Japan

Vic - Don't worry I'll pay for your ticket you just pay the rest
Vince - Where do you get the money? Do you work for the mob or something?
Vic - Don't worry

Vince - Well even if you can do that Mom will never let us go man you know her

SIDE NOTE

So most of you who have no idea who my mother is will find this very odd. Why wouldn't my mother let me go? You're a grown person? It doesn't concern her.

All these can be answered with a simple explanation.

She is not just my mother. She is an Asian Mother.

Asian Mother

My mom is an Asian mother. What does this mean? She trusts no one, believes in very few, questions everything, is prepared always for the worst and fears ALL.

This is the woman who thinks eating too many potato chips gives you cancer.

This is the woman who always must pull the additional cover slip over the sun roof of the car (when it's already closed) because she fears someone will break in through the sun roof. Even though clearly they could just smash through the driver side window.

This is the woman who calls my older brother every night to make sure he's home at a safe time and yes I said my older brother.

This is the woman who believes she is smart if not smarter than the doctor even though her University degree clearly states she has a B.A. not an MD.

This is the woman who with the TV at volume level at 15 thinks it's too loud and the neighbors will call the police and we will be arrested.

This is the woman who believes if her son goes on a date with a girl they will without a doubt have sex and a baby will soon follow even if it's just a movie date.

The list can go on forever.

So back to the conversation...

Vince: Mom wont' let us go man
Vic: Find a way and you can go man. Think about it. We can do this.

So after much convincing my brother and I decided upon a scheme that would fool my Asian mother. The plan of the ages.

Plan A

*Warning those who think highly of me in terms of morals and ethics please don't judge me. I really wanted to go to Japan*

How could we fool my paranoid extra protective Asian Mother? We would strike her at her biggest weakness. Her naive nature. Oh yes my mother is paranoid but due to her naive nature it was the perfect point of attack.

So my brother and I devised a plan that would fool her.

First I had to come up with a great alibi and a great lie.

I told her that I was going to go camping in Northern Ontario. Since I had been working so diligently in school my mother would oblige but there had to be more. So I told her that I was going with my University Christian fellowship. People that were Godly people and that she could trust.

Yes I know it's horrible. I lied big time. I'm at peace with it though.

So that would definitely cover me being able to go. Thirdly and most brilliantly because I was in Northern Ontario I told my mother that my cellphone would not be of use since the reception that far was horrible. This would supply my Asian mother no access to be able to call me 5-6 times a day to check up on me. And lastly my brother and I and the ones we were traveling with would be the only ones who would know of the trip henceforth no information would be leaked to others. This even included our cousins and other trusted family members. No one was to be trusted. No one.

Now my mom is really a great lady and she knew I was working so hard in school so she agreed also because she knew I'd be in safe company. She even offered to pay for some of the trip and asked if I needed camping supplies like tents and a sleeping bag. Of course I refused but she keep on insisited and offering, Asian mothers are very generous. So finally she said how much many do you need? So I feel bad now but I just blurted out 200 dollars and she said no problem and sent me the money.

I know. Stop judging me. What's done is done.

Alibi Check
Great lie Check
Additional Monetary funds Check
Minimal communication Check
Tying up loose ends Check.

I still remember leaving from the airport thinking you know if we don't make it back we'll be on one of those unsolved mysteries and no one will ever know where we went. What if we die my mom will think my body is lost somewhere in Northern Ontario and search parties will look for days and not be able to find us. Guilt trip. Big time.

Now there are many, many stories that occurred in Japan that will be in another blog but there was one vital peace that had to be accomplished.

So when we were in Japan we saw many sites and did many great things. But of course we had to cover our tracks and tie up all loose ends. So we decided to go and climb Mt. Fuji which in itself is a incredible story. Why did we decided to climb this mountain. One because it was something that my brother really wanted to do and secondly it was part of the plan. What we ended up doing was we took a photo of me in the mountains in my camping pose. The scenery was not distinguishable from Northern Ontario or Japan. So it was perfect. We took this photo and sent it via email to our select friend in Canada. This person who will remain nameless was to send this photo as a postcard with the address of some nearby mailbox that was situated near a town close to Northern Ontario. And the date was to be set 1 week from when we left. The photo was then sent to my mother's house as a postcard giving proof that I was indeed "camping" in the wilderness. Regardless for the fact that it was in another country. Trees look like trees.

So after our many adventures we were ready to head home.

But...

There had been a crazy storm that was brewing in Japan. A typhoon to be exact on our last day of departure. The rain in Japan was insane. But we embarked on our mission to the airport. It would have been terrible if we missed our flight and ruined our plan. But in the end we safely boarded the plane and headed back to the great white North.

Luckily we did because the next day in Japan the Typhoon category was raised and all flights were canceled out of Japan for the next couple of days. That would have been BAD.


When we arrived home I was finally able to activate my cell phone and was eager to see if any message had been left. On the screen upon opening up the cell phone that was an alarming 15 missed calls.

Now this surprised me since my mother was probably the one calling but she knew that in Northern Ontario where I was camping there was very little if any reception.

So I began dialing the voice message service and to my surprise and shock it was my mother.

Apparently when we had left for Japan there was a horrible rain storm that hit cities in Northern Ontario, I'm talking crazy insane making the news rain. So left were frantic messages of my mother wondering if I was okay. I know I"m a horrible person. What could I do I was in Japan and the cell phone didn't work there.

After I arrived home in my downtown apartment I called my mother as I had promised to do when I returned from my camping trip. She was relieved that I was alright. But here was the bad news.

So initially before embarking on the trip my mother had no idea that my brother was going to Japan. She only knew the day he was to arrive back in Canada. She did not know that he was planning to travel to Japan at all. That day we got back was strategically planned to be the day we both arrived back from Japan to Toronto.

So my mother not knowing that we had both already arrived in Toronto thought that my brother was to arrive that day in Toronto.

But since my mother doesn't like to drive on the highway she asked me to bus back to London pick up the car and drive to pick up my brother from the airport. Then drive him back to London and take the bus back to Toronto. ALL THIS.....I was being told on the phone when my brother tired from jet lag sleep on my apartment couch.

And so YES. Even though he was already there IN MY APARTMENT. I had to take a bus all the way back to London. Drive up that day to "pick my brother up from the airport" and drive him home and the next day bus back to London.

But I had to do it. To preserve the plan. So I took the bullet and did it. It was one of the longer bus rides that I could remember.

So there was the trip.

And Yes there are more stories.

And No. My mother. To this day still has NO IDEA we went to Japan.

And hopefully she never will.

The End.

This was an INCREDIBLY long story and it's better told in person. So if you actually had THAT much time to waste and read it well props to you. I welcome all comments good and Bad hahha I know I'll get some bad for sure.

The next blog will be more about my mother. And her wonderful thoughts on life. And following will be my dad. Yes the "no get busy with girls" dad. He's real and great.

....*Pause*........*sweat*.......*Pause*
Girl: "I'm going to go mingle"
Vince: *smile, sweat, pause, smile*

Well maybe it's my own doing but you get the picture.

A couple of weeks back I saw the film 27 dresses in which a woman who has been obsessed with weddings every since she was a little girl becomes the maid of honour or somehow in charge of all of her friends weddings. So many times that she is the maid of honour for 27 weddings yet she still dreams of her own wedding. Now not that I'm anywhere close to this situation, God willing. I'm starting to feel that a bit. I won't be the man with 27 suits because well most suits look the same so we can get away with wearing the same suit for each wedding. Or at least I hope so. I'll be the guy that looks the same in every wedding picture.

Where am I going with this?

Well complaining of course.

I think it's time that I meet someone. (It's funny when you think about it, funnier when you say it out loud like you were trying to convince someone. This must be how dental hygienists feel when they try and convince me to floss.

According to my mom I should already be married.

She says I'm too picky. I tell her find someone that's pretty and I'll consider dating her.

Her response, "You're not that good looking anyway just find a girl already." Moms, gotta love their honesty. According to my mom "marry someone soon, because who else is going to do your laundry". She's got mad old school game.

But really am I too picky?

Shouldn't we be picky in this case?

I mean just imagine if you were to buy your first car you wouldn't just go to the lot and pick a random car and not know anything about it and then up and buy it. Because chances are you won't like it and want your money back or an exchange. If we are like that when we pick our motor vehicles how much more invested would you be if that person was the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with? There are no Human Trader magazines at bus stops for this kind of thing. And if they there are the box is always empty when I get there.

"But Vince........." Again before you start I've heard it all.

1) You're still young Vince.

Answer - If we have this conversation when I hit the big 30 I will never listen to anything you have to say ever. There is no pre-requisite for the age of love.

2) She's probably right in front you and you don't know it.

Answer - if she was right in front of me clearly she's too short because I can't see her at ALL.

3) When you stop looking you will find her.

Answer - When you lose your watch do you stop looking and then magically find it? Why do we have search teams? Why don't we call them "stop and they'll turn up later teams."

4) Vince you're just too picky.

Answer - maybe you're not picky enough. Kidding!! I've already explained this.

5) Vince I don't know why you have a girlfriend?

Answer. We agree on something.

6) Everything happens for a reason.

Answer - Well.....Every dog has it's day. You win some, you lose some. The grass is always greener on the other side. Never give up. Dance like no one is watching. Life is like a box of chocolates. Worst reason ever.

So yeah I've heard it all. There are probably tons more but usually I tune out soon enough that they all keep sounding the same.


So what should I do?

So through my frustration I've entertained the idea of friends hooking me up. Hoping that at least my friends would have my best interested in mind. WRONG. I might as well have my mom arrange my marriage. At least my laundry needs would always be satisfied.

I'm actually surprised at what my friends think is my taste and what they think I'd be attracted to.

Come on people!!

Okay even though I would die at the chance to date Jessica Alba does not mean that I expect Jessica Alba? In my mind yes but I'm more realistic than my subconscious. But I don't even get close to Alba my friends are showing me Ellen Degeneres. Also I'm getting a sincerely skewed version of what they think I look for personality wise in a girl. Am I that far off people? I know it's all in good intentions and thanks for trying but TRY harder. haha kidding. Really come on pick it up.

Sometimes it has gotten to the point where I've actually considered online dating. Wow even writing it out sounds odd. I guess I'm old fashion and I prefer the old fashion method of putting yourself out there in real life and getting rejected in real time not online. Online is okay but nothing beats an awkward first date where only a miracle could save it. And sometimes that miracle does happen and what a story you have to tell of how you met. And if that doesn't happen there is always curling up into a ball and crying in the shower. Not that I've ever done that, I saw it on a TV show.

Anyhoo perhaps it's the spring air or because I just RSVP'd another wedding. But I hope to one day attend these future weddings not just as a Guest. But as a Guest + 1. And have that one not represent a family member. A legitimate Guest +1. I'll settle for being the guest or the +1


Laterdayz


P.S. Oddly enough I'm sitting in the 3rd floor of UCC on the couches surrounded by 3 beautiful girls. And what do I? I write this blog. Hahah it's my own fault. But what on earth do I say?

Everything happens for a reason.