ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
(I need some sleep today, coz I was up all night, I need sleep to function as a human being. My brain shuts down in different phases, otherwise I will pass out. Today, dear cutie, I ask of you to befriend not just me, but also sleep.)
Sleep with me.... (not sex, I mean sleep. Shut eye)
ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Mad Cows and Don "Meat"
(Note: This is a veeeeerrrrrry long post, if you prefer pictures, and simple things, please scroll below and see the picture that my stoned friends sent me this morning, or look at some of the other stuff that I wrote. Otherwise be prepared to dredge thru the loooong, but, hopefully, informative post for today. All feedback, positive, or negative, is welcome. Acutally, to be presise, anyone is welcome. Enjoy. DWR.)
Mad Cows:
Now who came up with the idea of feeding dead animals to herbivors? Let me tell you something a little bit about biology, "person(s) with the idea of trying to alter the evolution path of domestic cattle". The common domesticated bovine is a ruminant; ruminants eat vegitation. They are designed to break down cellulose, *NOT* animal based proteins. It's like trying to put rocket fuel into your lawnmower. It's going to lead to disaster. And yes, BSE is a disaster created by you feeding dead sheep brain -- from sheep that suddenly keeled over, died twitching and dribbling -- to cows. If you were feeding dead sheep to cows, what are you feeding our pets? Oh that's right, you feed ASH to my cats.
My cats are carnivors! They need more complex molecules to metabolise than pure carbon! They are *not* a fossil fuel powerplant!!!
Japan has banned import of beef from Europe, Canada and the US, that had reported cases of BSE. Many animals, ready to enter our food supply, were distroyed all over the world since 1987 when Britain first began its epidemiological surveillance on the disease. Britain, France, Denmark, Germany, US, Italy, Canada (pretty much everyone apart from Australia and Newzealand, I suppose) all have had "native" cases of BSE; all have had bans, or restrictions, on imports hitting their beef industry -- hard. The fastfood industry was affected, famers were pissed off, and politians were eating beef on T.V. like there's no tomorrow to appease the Beef industry lobbyists, and to get us to eat their diseased cows. "Yes, our beef is safe, see? I'm eating it, yum, yum. We have removed the bad beef from our food supply. The beef on the shelf? Our beef is safe! We killed and incinerated the bad beef, so all is OK." (riiiiiight, I bet you are eating imported ostritch, and pretending it's beef!)
Japan's first reported case of BSE in domestic beef was back in 2001. We are an island nation. We do not import live cattle from anywhere. Our island is too mountainous to rear sheep. As far as I remember prions are not airborne; now they may have entered the water supply if someone dumped some clinical laboratory samples from research centres into reservoirs across the land, but if that is the case there will be not only mad cows, but also mad chicken, mad pigs, mad farmers, mad butchers, mad consumers, mad politicians, and madness everywhere. Well there is madness everywhere, but it doesn't show the classic sypmtoms of spongiform encephalopathy.
So how did we, an island nation, isolated from imports of live lifestock, have its first domestic case of BSE? Where did the disease come from? The answer, dear readers, is cattlefeed. Long after people had stopped buying cattle feed from the country that produced "patient zero", Great Britain, we were happily buying Meat and Bone Feed (MBF), possibly produced BEFORE 1997 when Britain banned the use of MBF as feed for cattle, from them. We are have such a wonderful trade relation with Britain that we were helping them off load the mountains of MBF they have in stock. You don't want inventory sitting in your warehouse too long, right? It's a liability, and its value depreciates fast. Old "Blighters" needed to shift their MBF stock for bagain-basement prices, and we bought it. Our beef producers need to keep their prices down, right? Feed them the cheap shit, said the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries.
Not a good idea....
Don "Meat":
On Dec. 22, 2004, there was one man who made the headlines in the news. The reason? He paid the highest bail money in Japanese history: 2billion yen (US$20mill approx.). His name is Mitsuru Asada, aka. Don "Meat", the former chairman of Hannan Corp., a meat packing, processing, and distribution enterprise.
Little is known about the business dealings of Don "Meat" and Hannan Corp., but the latter's estimated annual sales is reported to be approximately 500billion yen (US$5billion approx.), however, because this Titan meat packer (shit, that sounds like a gay porn film!), the second largest meat importer/distributor in Japan, is not listed on the stock exchange no one knows exactly how it is run. Only Don "Meat", and his band of merry cronnies, know exactly what is (and what isn't) going on at Hannan Corp.
Even less in known of Don "Meat" himself. Originally from a pre-war "lower caste" who were often employed by the food processing industry doing unpleasant work, such as working in slaughterhouses, his origins are extremely humble. He apparently does not drink, does not play golf (often saying: "both are a waste of time, especially when I could be out making money."), but for a man of such background, at age 66, he is known to all in the industry, and within political circles as Don "Meat".
So how did Mr. Asada become Don "Meat"? Don "Meat" started off in the meat packing industry, and his relentless, driven, entrepreneurial style quickly expanded Hannan Corp. based in the Kansai region of western Japan. Up until the beginning of the 90s the meat packing and processing industry was heavily regulated by the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestries, and Fisheries, whereby only a select number of importers were allowed to operate and process imported meat. At times there will be "offgrade" meat -- sometimes in huge quantities -- a headache for the ministry due to the outdated, and often redundant subsidy process inbedded in the handling/distribution of imported meat. Don "Meat" saw an opportunity in this red tape (ribbon?!), approached the ministry -- on his own -- and made a proposal to the MAFF. "I'll buy your offgrages for dirt cheap, if you let me import beef. "
And that was the first beaurocratic "tie" that Don "Meat" made, a prelude to his vast network of political and offical ties that made him what he was the day he got arrested in April 2004.
Imported Quality Beef, Tainted Domestic Beef, Subsidies, Corrupt Officials, And Don "Meat":
After the first domestic Japanese BSE case was reported in 2001, the public were paranoid, beef prices plummeted, and the MAFF initiated a countriwide investigation into the domestic beef stock entering our food supply to check for contaminated beef. They were able to track that the contaminated livestock were all eating cattlefeed that came in from Europe, specifically from Britain. (well, that was not *difficult*, was it now MAFF, you were BUYING "Cow-Chow" from the Brits at rock-bottom prices!!!) Then the panic ensued. Wholesalers, middlemen, and retailers were at a loss, and pointing fingers to everyone but themselves. The MAFF, as before, sent the "Big-Wigs" in front of the TV cameras from the cabinet, the closet, the wardrobe, and the draws from the Ministry, and put on a fine show of fat, greasy ol' men eating sem-raw "domestic" beef (aka. imported ostrich) to prove to the public that "Japanese Beef Is Safe" (look, we are eating a kilo of ostrich!! yum, yum!)
Not quite.
While the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries "officals" were holding an orgy of orstrich consumption, the Kagemushas 影武者 (shadow warriors) i.e. civil servants/law makers were frantically trying to come up with a solution to save face for the beef industry. They decided to test all dairy cows/beef cattle that were older than 13 months that had eaten sheep brains, slaughted, and were ready to come onto our dinner plates, for BSE. The MAFF, with a gun to their heads from the beef lobbyists, were going to subsidise the meat processing industry for the distruction of the beef that were "tainted".
Then, Don "Meat" had another wonderful idea. Two ideas to be precise.
(Plan 1: Imported Beef)
As the domestic beef price plumeted, so did the imported beef prices. None of the downstream distributors could get rid of their stock; it was getting to a point where small-medium sized distributors were losing money trying to keep imported beef in their expensive refrigeration units. The word bankrupsy was looming behind their left shoulders. Asada, using his "contacts" in the MAFF, and his sharp wit, decided to buy imported beef from the desparate distributors with rapidly depreciating imported beef stock. Officials from the MAFF, endebted to the Don for years, along with the "strong" political allies he had made by then, were more than obliging to introduce distressed beef importers to the Don so that he could buy up the imported beef.
So why was the Don of "Meet" buying up beef when the prices were plummeting? Have you ever studied psychology, dear readers? The human mind plays funny tricks. For instance if I took a bottle of Evian, put vodka in it, at the same time took an empty bottle of Absolute Vodka, put mineral water in it, and left it in the fridge, which would you take? Most people would take the Evian bottle, pour it out in their glasses after their session at the gym and take a big gulp thinking that it was water, and go "Cough, cough, WTF!! Who put vodka in an Evian bottle!!!! WTF!!!"
And that is what the Don "Meat" did.
He bought the imported beef, thru his contacts in the MAFF, for almost next to nothing, relabled it as "domestic" beef, only to be subsidised by them for disposal under the governments compensation scheme for handlers of domestic, potentially tainted beef that had to undergo tests before disposal.
(Plan 2: Disposal)
The MAFF had decided to test domestic beef stocks, but once again without the funding and the staffing to handle some 400 tonnes of beef comming in for inspection. Out of the 184 tonnes of beef sent by Don "Meat" in the first week after they began testing the stock, inspectors were able to check less than 8 tonnes in the same week. The easiest solution for them was to begin mass scale incineration of the domestic beef stock that was pouring onto the inspectors' laps every day from distraught, angry distributors and meat packers accross the nation. Once again Don "Meat" and his cronnies had been controlling the decision making of the MAFF. Two days before the MAFF announced that they were going to begin mass incineration of the beef, with or without inspection, there was one incineration facility in the Kansai region that was blowing smoke from it's chimneys. Present at the site was the mayor of the town, officials from the MAFF, and guess who? Our good friend the Don. The MAFF offical explanation of what happened on that day was they were "testing" and adjusting the reactor to find out the optimum temperature to incinerate the beef so thay it could be disposed of safely. The owner of the private incineration facility gave his testimony to a reportage, Sunday Japan, which was aired on Jan 23d.
Don "Meat" was burning his evidence, and getting his compensation from the MAFF that knew he was burning Aussie beef, not Kobe beef.
Don "Meat" continued to buy up imported meat from the distraught and desparate imported meat distributors, and had them disposed of as domestic beef with the seal of approval from government officals, and the local mayor. This continued until the day before another large company, Yukijirushi, was also caught doing the same thing as Don "Meat". The day before the Yukijirushi incedent came out in the press, Don "Meat" disposed the largest amout of his stock that day: 142tonnes. The plant manager rememers it very clearly, for it was nearly double the amount that was processed at the plant on any day since the "disposal orders" came from the ministry.
In the end the Don acquired thru his various contracts nearly a quarter of the the 21billion yen (US$2.1billion approx) in the BSE related subsidies that was handed out by the MAFF. Along with him countless numbers of officals and politicans, no doubt, had their pockets lined in gold.
In April 2004, following (nearly) a two year investigation, the Don was arrested for fraud and embezzlement. (He has previous convictions for bid-rigging, and was under investigation for his dubious business practises.) He made several court appearances, but was granted bail for 20billion yen in December 2004. He was "detained" for nearly 8 months, only to emerge as a semi-free man to do as he pleases, and to move his assets from one country to another, one company to another, from his wife to his brother, from himself to his business associates....
Don "Meat" will appear in court soon, he's pleading "guilty" to charges of embezzlement, but not fraud. His reasons? That the MAFF was always fully aware of what he was doing; he was not told that he was doing anything wrong by the officials. The mayor of the town that gave him insider information about the mass distruction of the beef stocks has resigned. I'm sure countless more will follow suit. I hope Don "Meat", a man from a "lower-caste" background, will abandon his riches, blabber about everything, and bring down all of the corrupt officials, mayors, governors, and politicians who had sipped the nectar from his deceiving of the general public of what goes into our handburgers.
(Postscript: I usually link to my sources when I write, but today's topic, unfortunately is mainly from news sources, reportage, film footage, newspaper articles, and online sources in Japanese. For anyone interested in the topic I will add all my resources in the "comments" section so that you can have a look at the intricate story behind the Don. I must admit I've had to summarise many of Don "Meat"'s background and his activities. If I went into details, I would be able to write a book!!! Seriously, dear readers, it's that deep, and complex. I need to introduce you to modern Japanese history starting from 1978! Anyway, for ONCE, I have come back to the true DWR style, did my research, spent some time, and (hopefully) produced something that will give you an insight into some of the dark side of our food industry. The Don "Meat" BSE subsidy case is only one of the few maladies that have come to public light. We have had bird-flu cover-ups, milk contaminated with bacteria, ANOTHER case of mislabelling -- this time of imported chicken from China being labeled as free range domestic chicken..... I am one of those "Label Readers". I have lots of allergies, including allergies to food. After reading Fast Food Nation, and looking at the labels on my food (plus working in the consumber business department at my company) I have come to distrust anything that I see in supermarkets, restaurants, and in particular, fastfood restautants. I have no solution for people like Don "Meat" -- I suppose he was one of the unlucky ones that got caught, for I am sure there are many others like him who exploit the food packaging/processing industry today.)
Mad Cows:
Now who came up with the idea of feeding dead animals to herbivors? Let me tell you something a little bit about biology, "person(s) with the idea of trying to alter the evolution path of domestic cattle". The common domesticated bovine is a ruminant; ruminants eat vegitation. They are designed to break down cellulose, *NOT* animal based proteins. It's like trying to put rocket fuel into your lawnmower. It's going to lead to disaster. And yes, BSE is a disaster created by you feeding dead sheep brain -- from sheep that suddenly keeled over, died twitching and dribbling -- to cows. If you were feeding dead sheep to cows, what are you feeding our pets? Oh that's right, you feed ASH to my cats.
My cats are carnivors! They need more complex molecules to metabolise than pure carbon! They are *not* a fossil fuel powerplant!!!
Japan has banned import of beef from Europe, Canada and the US, that had reported cases of BSE. Many animals, ready to enter our food supply, were distroyed all over the world since 1987 when Britain first began its epidemiological surveillance on the disease. Britain, France, Denmark, Germany, US, Italy, Canada (pretty much everyone apart from Australia and Newzealand, I suppose) all have had "native" cases of BSE; all have had bans, or restrictions, on imports hitting their beef industry -- hard. The fastfood industry was affected, famers were pissed off, and politians were eating beef on T.V. like there's no tomorrow to appease the Beef industry lobbyists, and to get us to eat their diseased cows. "Yes, our beef is safe, see? I'm eating it, yum, yum. We have removed the bad beef from our food supply. The beef on the shelf? Our beef is safe! We killed and incinerated the bad beef, so all is OK." (riiiiiight, I bet you are eating imported ostritch, and pretending it's beef!)
Japan's first reported case of BSE in domestic beef was back in 2001. We are an island nation. We do not import live cattle from anywhere. Our island is too mountainous to rear sheep. As far as I remember prions are not airborne; now they may have entered the water supply if someone dumped some clinical laboratory samples from research centres into reservoirs across the land, but if that is the case there will be not only mad cows, but also mad chicken, mad pigs, mad farmers, mad butchers, mad consumers, mad politicians, and madness everywhere. Well there is madness everywhere, but it doesn't show the classic sypmtoms of spongiform encephalopathy.
So how did we, an island nation, isolated from imports of live lifestock, have its first domestic case of BSE? Where did the disease come from? The answer, dear readers, is cattlefeed. Long after people had stopped buying cattle feed from the country that produced "patient zero", Great Britain, we were happily buying Meat and Bone Feed (MBF), possibly produced BEFORE 1997 when Britain banned the use of MBF as feed for cattle, from them. We are have such a wonderful trade relation with Britain that we were helping them off load the mountains of MBF they have in stock. You don't want inventory sitting in your warehouse too long, right? It's a liability, and its value depreciates fast. Old "Blighters" needed to shift their MBF stock for bagain-basement prices, and we bought it. Our beef producers need to keep their prices down, right? Feed them the cheap shit, said the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries.
Not a good idea....
Don "Meat":
On Dec. 22, 2004, there was one man who made the headlines in the news. The reason? He paid the highest bail money in Japanese history: 2billion yen (US$20mill approx.). His name is Mitsuru Asada, aka. Don "Meat", the former chairman of Hannan Corp., a meat packing, processing, and distribution enterprise.
Little is known about the business dealings of Don "Meat" and Hannan Corp., but the latter's estimated annual sales is reported to be approximately 500billion yen (US$5billion approx.), however, because this Titan meat packer (shit, that sounds like a gay porn film!), the second largest meat importer/distributor in Japan, is not listed on the stock exchange no one knows exactly how it is run. Only Don "Meat", and his band of merry cronnies, know exactly what is (and what isn't) going on at Hannan Corp.
Even less in known of Don "Meat" himself. Originally from a pre-war "lower caste" who were often employed by the food processing industry doing unpleasant work, such as working in slaughterhouses, his origins are extremely humble. He apparently does not drink, does not play golf (often saying: "both are a waste of time, especially when I could be out making money."), but for a man of such background, at age 66, he is known to all in the industry, and within political circles as Don "Meat".
So how did Mr. Asada become Don "Meat"? Don "Meat" started off in the meat packing industry, and his relentless, driven, entrepreneurial style quickly expanded Hannan Corp. based in the Kansai region of western Japan. Up until the beginning of the 90s the meat packing and processing industry was heavily regulated by the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestries, and Fisheries, whereby only a select number of importers were allowed to operate and process imported meat. At times there will be "offgrade" meat -- sometimes in huge quantities -- a headache for the ministry due to the outdated, and often redundant subsidy process inbedded in the handling/distribution of imported meat. Don "Meat" saw an opportunity in this red tape (ribbon?!), approached the ministry -- on his own -- and made a proposal to the MAFF. "I'll buy your offgrages for dirt cheap, if you let me import beef. "
And that was the first beaurocratic "tie" that Don "Meat" made, a prelude to his vast network of political and offical ties that made him what he was the day he got arrested in April 2004.
Imported Quality Beef, Tainted Domestic Beef, Subsidies, Corrupt Officials, And Don "Meat":
After the first domestic Japanese BSE case was reported in 2001, the public were paranoid, beef prices plummeted, and the MAFF initiated a countriwide investigation into the domestic beef stock entering our food supply to check for contaminated beef. They were able to track that the contaminated livestock were all eating cattlefeed that came in from Europe, specifically from Britain. (well, that was not *difficult*, was it now MAFF, you were BUYING "Cow-Chow" from the Brits at rock-bottom prices!!!) Then the panic ensued. Wholesalers, middlemen, and retailers were at a loss, and pointing fingers to everyone but themselves. The MAFF, as before, sent the "Big-Wigs" in front of the TV cameras from the cabinet, the closet, the wardrobe, and the draws from the Ministry, and put on a fine show of fat, greasy ol' men eating sem-raw "domestic" beef (aka. imported ostrich) to prove to the public that "Japanese Beef Is Safe" (look, we are eating a kilo of ostrich!! yum, yum!)
Not quite.
While the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries "officals" were holding an orgy of orstrich consumption, the Kagemushas 影武者 (shadow warriors) i.e. civil servants/law makers were frantically trying to come up with a solution to save face for the beef industry. They decided to test all dairy cows/beef cattle that were older than 13 months that had eaten sheep brains, slaughted, and were ready to come onto our dinner plates, for BSE. The MAFF, with a gun to their heads from the beef lobbyists, were going to subsidise the meat processing industry for the distruction of the beef that were "tainted".
Then, Don "Meat" had another wonderful idea. Two ideas to be precise.
(Plan 1: Imported Beef)
As the domestic beef price plumeted, so did the imported beef prices. None of the downstream distributors could get rid of their stock; it was getting to a point where small-medium sized distributors were losing money trying to keep imported beef in their expensive refrigeration units. The word bankrupsy was looming behind their left shoulders. Asada, using his "contacts" in the MAFF, and his sharp wit, decided to buy imported beef from the desparate distributors with rapidly depreciating imported beef stock. Officials from the MAFF, endebted to the Don for years, along with the "strong" political allies he had made by then, were more than obliging to introduce distressed beef importers to the Don so that he could buy up the imported beef.
So why was the Don of "Meet" buying up beef when the prices were plummeting? Have you ever studied psychology, dear readers? The human mind plays funny tricks. For instance if I took a bottle of Evian, put vodka in it, at the same time took an empty bottle of Absolute Vodka, put mineral water in it, and left it in the fridge, which would you take? Most people would take the Evian bottle, pour it out in their glasses after their session at the gym and take a big gulp thinking that it was water, and go "Cough, cough, WTF!! Who put vodka in an Evian bottle!!!! WTF!!!"
And that is what the Don "Meat" did.
He bought the imported beef, thru his contacts in the MAFF, for almost next to nothing, relabled it as "domestic" beef, only to be subsidised by them for disposal under the governments compensation scheme for handlers of domestic, potentially tainted beef that had to undergo tests before disposal.
(Plan 2: Disposal)
The MAFF had decided to test domestic beef stocks, but once again without the funding and the staffing to handle some 400 tonnes of beef comming in for inspection. Out of the 184 tonnes of beef sent by Don "Meat" in the first week after they began testing the stock, inspectors were able to check less than 8 tonnes in the same week. The easiest solution for them was to begin mass scale incineration of the domestic beef stock that was pouring onto the inspectors' laps every day from distraught, angry distributors and meat packers accross the nation. Once again Don "Meat" and his cronnies had been controlling the decision making of the MAFF. Two days before the MAFF announced that they were going to begin mass incineration of the beef, with or without inspection, there was one incineration facility in the Kansai region that was blowing smoke from it's chimneys. Present at the site was the mayor of the town, officials from the MAFF, and guess who? Our good friend the Don. The MAFF offical explanation of what happened on that day was they were "testing" and adjusting the reactor to find out the optimum temperature to incinerate the beef so thay it could be disposed of safely. The owner of the private incineration facility gave his testimony to a reportage, Sunday Japan, which was aired on Jan 23d.
Don "Meat" was burning his evidence, and getting his compensation from the MAFF that knew he was burning Aussie beef, not Kobe beef.
Don "Meat" continued to buy up imported meat from the distraught and desparate imported meat distributors, and had them disposed of as domestic beef with the seal of approval from government officals, and the local mayor. This continued until the day before another large company, Yukijirushi, was also caught doing the same thing as Don "Meat". The day before the Yukijirushi incedent came out in the press, Don "Meat" disposed the largest amout of his stock that day: 142tonnes. The plant manager rememers it very clearly, for it was nearly double the amount that was processed at the plant on any day since the "disposal orders" came from the ministry.
In the end the Don acquired thru his various contracts nearly a quarter of the the 21billion yen (US$2.1billion approx) in the BSE related subsidies that was handed out by the MAFF. Along with him countless numbers of officals and politicans, no doubt, had their pockets lined in gold.
In April 2004, following (nearly) a two year investigation, the Don was arrested for fraud and embezzlement. (He has previous convictions for bid-rigging, and was under investigation for his dubious business practises.) He made several court appearances, but was granted bail for 20billion yen in December 2004. He was "detained" for nearly 8 months, only to emerge as a semi-free man to do as he pleases, and to move his assets from one country to another, one company to another, from his wife to his brother, from himself to his business associates....
Don "Meat" will appear in court soon, he's pleading "guilty" to charges of embezzlement, but not fraud. His reasons? That the MAFF was always fully aware of what he was doing; he was not told that he was doing anything wrong by the officials. The mayor of the town that gave him insider information about the mass distruction of the beef stocks has resigned. I'm sure countless more will follow suit. I hope Don "Meat", a man from a "lower-caste" background, will abandon his riches, blabber about everything, and bring down all of the corrupt officials, mayors, governors, and politicians who had sipped the nectar from his deceiving of the general public of what goes into our handburgers.
(Postscript: I usually link to my sources when I write, but today's topic, unfortunately is mainly from news sources, reportage, film footage, newspaper articles, and online sources in Japanese. For anyone interested in the topic I will add all my resources in the "comments" section so that you can have a look at the intricate story behind the Don. I must admit I've had to summarise many of Don "Meat"'s background and his activities. If I went into details, I would be able to write a book!!! Seriously, dear readers, it's that deep, and complex. I need to introduce you to modern Japanese history starting from 1978! Anyway, for ONCE, I have come back to the true DWR style, did my research, spent some time, and (hopefully) produced something that will give you an insight into some of the dark side of our food industry. The Don "Meat" BSE subsidy case is only one of the few maladies that have come to public light. We have had bird-flu cover-ups, milk contaminated with bacteria, ANOTHER case of mislabelling -- this time of imported chicken from China being labeled as free range domestic chicken..... I am one of those "Label Readers". I have lots of allergies, including allergies to food. After reading Fast Food Nation, and looking at the labels on my food (plus working in the consumber business department at my company) I have come to distrust anything that I see in supermarkets, restaurants, and in particular, fastfood restautants. I have no solution for people like Don "Meat" -- I suppose he was one of the unlucky ones that got caught, for I am sure there are many others like him who exploit the food packaging/processing industry today.)
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Hang On A Second?!
Ok, right. Hang on a second here, the DWR always used to write every day. Lumpless, or not. Or was it affecting her emotionally, especially in the days leading up to her Full Frontal Medical (part 9) which started all the way back in December? Was she so traumatised that nothing flowed from her mind and was worried sick that she had cancer? Why were there no posts everyday? Go to the december archives and I can tell you, she has been writing EVERY DAY! What is going on???
Umm... OK, dear readers, confession time from the DWR. Umm, I have found a distraction apart from Yoga, hiking, trail running, swimming, suit job (?), looking after the catz, drinking with the Drunken Wench Friends, trekking, reading books, taking random photos, doing research for next blog, blogging, blogging, blogging....
I now have "Cutie".
Umm... It may sound like something out of those silly romance novels like Harpers&Queens, but I have met a man, well, actually not physically met him coz he lives across the pacific from me, but I think I am falling in love with him everyday. We chat everyday, morning and night (we are both insomniacs), and he does really special things for me. Can I explain it to you? Well, he goes out of his way to give me special gifts -- many of them actually-- that have a very personal touch. He makes these gifts just for me. And that's so personal and touching to me. He takes time from his busy day to make me special gifts. Very special, personal gifts. All for little ol' me, who he has not even met yet...
Isn't that romantic?
He also knows I blog. He has read my blog several times, and he says he loves it! He wants me to continue blogging, and not take too much of my time chatting to him. His reason? "But what about your other readers?"
Yes, dear readers, he also thinks about you too. Isn't he a really lovely, considerate person? He has you in mind too!
So, I shall return, will try much harder to post daily (or at least not get lazy as per before), and remember about all of you, coz you were there for me when I was scared shitless coz I thought I had a lump. Right, I need to go back to my research....
Did I tell you that I FINALLY got an interview with my yoga teachers, Dan and Ken? So that should be coming up shortly, and I think I will go back to researching about Unit 731. Now they are a bunch of veeeeeery interesting people. Actually, scary more like!
So, for now, I shall research, write, and think of you all, not just Cutie. I know he is special, but he wants me to think of you. And he's right, I have been a tad naughty, and I should think of you too (altho' he's always on my mind....)
Am I mad? Nah. I'm as sane and sure can be!
(Post Script: Although Cutie has been responsible for some of the "breaks" between posts, there is also some blame on the Drunken Wench Friends, for the number of "bootie calls" have been on the rise recently. Why? They are in an ULTRA stressful project right now, and they will go insane if they don't drink. (And I can relate fully, coz I have been there before!) DONT WORRY DRUNKEN WENCH FRIENDS, I'LL BE THERE FOR YOU, JUST LIKE YOU WERE THERE FOR ME!!The stress level yesterday before we hit the hooch (another heavy session) was close to critical mass. My DWF, A, was ranting on and on and waving his arms about, blabbering on the mobile to someone from the project "get this done, yes, no, yes, and I need an update on this, blah blah, blah..." As soon as we said our prayers to Baccus, the greek god of wine, and hit the sake, shochu, and umeshu? OH MY GAWD!!!! We were all very relaxed and happy people. Veeeeeery happy. I move into the same office as the Drunken Wench Friends on Feb 6th.... I am going to have to write 2 or 3 stories during lunch time, coz there will be a time lag between the posts -- BIG TIME! In addition to all my hobbies I now have Cutie AND the Drunken Wench Friends on my mind.... Shit! Can someone teach me time management???)
Umm... OK, dear readers, confession time from the DWR. Umm, I have found a distraction apart from Yoga, hiking, trail running, swimming, suit job (?), looking after the catz, drinking with the Drunken Wench Friends, trekking, reading books, taking random photos, doing research for next blog, blogging, blogging, blogging....
I now have "Cutie".
Umm... It may sound like something out of those silly romance novels like Harpers&Queens, but I have met a man, well, actually not physically met him coz he lives across the pacific from me, but I think I am falling in love with him everyday. We chat everyday, morning and night (we are both insomniacs), and he does really special things for me. Can I explain it to you? Well, he goes out of his way to give me special gifts -- many of them actually-- that have a very personal touch. He makes these gifts just for me. And that's so personal and touching to me. He takes time from his busy day to make me special gifts. Very special, personal gifts. All for little ol' me, who he has not even met yet...
Isn't that romantic?
He also knows I blog. He has read my blog several times, and he says he loves it! He wants me to continue blogging, and not take too much of my time chatting to him. His reason? "But what about your other readers?"
Yes, dear readers, he also thinks about you too. Isn't he a really lovely, considerate person? He has you in mind too!
So, I shall return, will try much harder to post daily (or at least not get lazy as per before), and remember about all of you, coz you were there for me when I was scared shitless coz I thought I had a lump. Right, I need to go back to my research....
Did I tell you that I FINALLY got an interview with my yoga teachers, Dan and Ken? So that should be coming up shortly, and I think I will go back to researching about Unit 731. Now they are a bunch of veeeeeery interesting people. Actually, scary more like!
So, for now, I shall research, write, and think of you all, not just Cutie. I know he is special, but he wants me to think of you. And he's right, I have been a tad naughty, and I should think of you too (altho' he's always on my mind....)
Am I mad? Nah. I'm as sane and sure can be!
(Post Script: Although Cutie has been responsible for some of the "breaks" between posts, there is also some blame on the Drunken Wench Friends, for the number of "bootie calls" have been on the rise recently. Why? They are in an ULTRA stressful project right now, and they will go insane if they don't drink. (And I can relate fully, coz I have been there before!) DONT WORRY DRUNKEN WENCH FRIENDS, I'LL BE THERE FOR YOU, JUST LIKE YOU WERE THERE FOR ME!!The stress level yesterday before we hit the hooch (another heavy session) was close to critical mass. My DWF, A, was ranting on and on and waving his arms about, blabbering on the mobile to someone from the project "get this done, yes, no, yes, and I need an update on this, blah blah, blah..." As soon as we said our prayers to Baccus, the greek god of wine, and hit the sake, shochu, and umeshu? OH MY GAWD!!!! We were all very relaxed and happy people. Veeeeeery happy. I move into the same office as the Drunken Wench Friends on Feb 6th.... I am going to have to write 2 or 3 stories during lunch time, coz there will be a time lag between the posts -- BIG TIME! In addition to all my hobbies I now have Cutie AND the Drunken Wench Friends on my mind.... Shit! Can someone teach me time management???)
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Full Frontal Medical Part 9: The CT Results
Yes, today, dear readers, I went to the doctor's to get the results of my CT that they took 10 days ago. I'm still buzzing from that very, very heavy session I had with the drunen wench friends. I wonder if they made it to the office by 9:30am, for if they did they too would have been buzzing. Well, they'll be buzzing till lunchtime, when the shakes start to set in, and off they'll go for lunch and have a few whines. Oh yes, they will be whine-ing. Big time. "Oh, I need another drink".
Tis now 1:50ish, and I feel the same way...
Anyway, enuf about the drunken wench friends, and onto my journey to get my CT results from that "fluffy" hospital.
I got into the lift of the "fluffy" hospital this morning at quarter to eleven, 45minutes before the end of the morning outpatient session. I like to be fashionably late, but the "stomach doctor" is only there in the mornings so I figured that if I don't make it on time I will have to wait till tomorrow to get my results. I'm fed up of waiting. I've been waiting since Dec 29th, the day they CLOSED for business over the new years holiday. "Fluffy" hospital, what can I do with you, if you are "fluffy" at least *think* of me when you chose to send out the results to my Full Frontal Medical. Especially if they are baaaaad, and you expect me to come in for "further tests".
Huh.
I go up to the reception in the "Forest Floor" hand my outpatent card. The receptionist hands me a piece of paper with 217 written on it. I look up at the board to see how long I will have to wait. There are thee sets of numbers: the 100 series, the 200 series and the 600 series. (WTF happened to the 300 to 500 series? This place is unbelievably fluffy, they make no sense to me!)
210.
Shit I am number 7 in the queue. I hope I don't have to wait too long. I take a seat next to a woman who is looking up at the board. Her number is 214. Not long to go, love, oh, and I bet you feel like me too. Poor woman. Maybe she's got ulcers, maybe a lump or two. She looks pretty worried. Me too, love. Me too.
*Beep*
(Oh shit the number's changed which series is it? Let's have a look.)
216
Eh?
WHOA there, hang on, what happened there, this lady sitting next me is 214, and as far as I can remember in the 3minutes that I've been sitting here she has not moved. I mean, she really has not fucking moved! What's going on?
The lady is pissed too. She calls one of the nurses, who explain to her that sometimes the results or the medical records take *time* sometimes to get to the doctor, so she will have to wait. It's ok, sometimes it takes time.
Oi, I've had ENUF of this fucking fluffy hospital. It's pissing me off! Who has ever even HEARD such absurdity. I cannot believe these people! What the fuck is WRONG with them. This place really, really is "fluffy"! Unbelievable, un-fucking-believable. Am I going to be "safe" being referred to a larger hospital by these fluffy feckers? Is there any un-fluffy person working in this medical establishment? (Oh, that's right, there's Dr.M.He's not fluffy.)
I've kind of given up hope to this place. They give you wonderful Full Frontal Medicals, but outpatient? Fuck it. No wonder I come here only when my asthma drugs run out, and this time they are NOT going to run out for a very long time, for you see, I bought a dozen Serotide inhalors over the counter in some dodgy Chemists in Hong Kong near my serviced apartment just before I came back to Japan.
In the end I was called up over the loudspeaker. (Feckers can't even get the process right. Fluffy idiots! Poor woman next to me, she's still waiting...)
*sigh* *FUCK*
I go into the doctor's office to be greeted by Dr.Y who is stitting there grinning.
Oh, DWR, nothing. Not a thing. No lump. I wonder what it was that showed up on the ultrasound. Can't see a siiingle thing on your CT. See, come and have a look for yourself.
Hey?(WTF?)
Yup, see, come and say hello to pancreas. Let's have a look together. See, this one is the easiest. Now here is the big artery that the pancreas sits on, and here's your pancreas, and oh, here's your spleen. Hello. This one is your second one, little small one here. Pretty aren't they? Very clean organs you have. Very clean. Very Pretty.
Shit I am sitting next to a fluffy doctor saying hello to Kodak Moments of my organs. How trippy. (or maybe it's the neat Shochu from last night...). And indeed they were very beautiful.
Unbelievable!! Wow!!
==========================
The biggest lesson learned from this entire ordeal is for me to look after my beautiful organs. Eat healthily, continue with the regular excersises, because they were indeed very pretty: my pancreas, my spleens (oh the second one was sooo cute! Little bitty thing attached to his big brother!), my hepatic artery, my gall bladder, and my kidneys, and my liver. Everybody that lives inside me is beautiful, and they all look after me everyday.
Everyday.
And now with this I'm going to put a period, and end to this Full Frontal Medical series.
The End.
Tis now 1:50ish, and I feel the same way...
Anyway, enuf about the drunken wench friends, and onto my journey to get my CT results from that "fluffy" hospital.
I got into the lift of the "fluffy" hospital this morning at quarter to eleven, 45minutes before the end of the morning outpatient session. I like to be fashionably late, but the "stomach doctor" is only there in the mornings so I figured that if I don't make it on time I will have to wait till tomorrow to get my results. I'm fed up of waiting. I've been waiting since Dec 29th, the day they CLOSED for business over the new years holiday. "Fluffy" hospital, what can I do with you, if you are "fluffy" at least *think* of me when you chose to send out the results to my Full Frontal Medical. Especially if they are baaaaad, and you expect me to come in for "further tests".
Huh.
I go up to the reception in the "Forest Floor" hand my outpatent card. The receptionist hands me a piece of paper with 217 written on it. I look up at the board to see how long I will have to wait. There are thee sets of numbers: the 100 series, the 200 series and the 600 series. (WTF happened to the 300 to 500 series? This place is unbelievably fluffy, they make no sense to me!)
210.
Shit I am number 7 in the queue. I hope I don't have to wait too long. I take a seat next to a woman who is looking up at the board. Her number is 214. Not long to go, love, oh, and I bet you feel like me too. Poor woman. Maybe she's got ulcers, maybe a lump or two. She looks pretty worried. Me too, love. Me too.
*Beep*
(Oh shit the number's changed which series is it? Let's have a look.)
216
Eh?
WHOA there, hang on, what happened there, this lady sitting next me is 214, and as far as I can remember in the 3minutes that I've been sitting here she has not moved. I mean, she really has not fucking moved! What's going on?
The lady is pissed too. She calls one of the nurses, who explain to her that sometimes the results or the medical records take *time* sometimes to get to the doctor, so she will have to wait. It's ok, sometimes it takes time.
Oi, I've had ENUF of this fucking fluffy hospital. It's pissing me off! Who has ever even HEARD such absurdity. I cannot believe these people! What the fuck is WRONG with them. This place really, really is "fluffy"! Unbelievable, un-fucking-believable. Am I going to be "safe" being referred to a larger hospital by these fluffy feckers? Is there any un-fluffy person working in this medical establishment? (Oh, that's right, there's Dr.M.He's not fluffy.)
I've kind of given up hope to this place. They give you wonderful Full Frontal Medicals, but outpatient? Fuck it. No wonder I come here only when my asthma drugs run out, and this time they are NOT going to run out for a very long time, for you see, I bought a dozen Serotide inhalors over the counter in some dodgy Chemists in Hong Kong near my serviced apartment just before I came back to Japan.
In the end I was called up over the loudspeaker. (Feckers can't even get the process right. Fluffy idiots! Poor woman next to me, she's still waiting...)
*sigh* *FUCK*
I go into the doctor's office to be greeted by Dr.Y who is stitting there grinning.
Oh, DWR, nothing. Not a thing. No lump. I wonder what it was that showed up on the ultrasound. Can't see a siiingle thing on your CT. See, come and have a look for yourself.
Hey?(WTF?)
Yup, see, come and say hello to pancreas. Let's have a look together. See, this one is the easiest. Now here is the big artery that the pancreas sits on, and here's your pancreas, and oh, here's your spleen. Hello. This one is your second one, little small one here. Pretty aren't they? Very clean organs you have. Very clean. Very Pretty.
Shit I am sitting next to a fluffy doctor saying hello to Kodak Moments of my organs. How trippy. (or maybe it's the neat Shochu from last night...). And indeed they were very beautiful.
Unbelievable!! Wow!!
==========================
The biggest lesson learned from this entire ordeal is for me to look after my beautiful organs. Eat healthily, continue with the regular excersises, because they were indeed very pretty: my pancreas, my spleens (oh the second one was sooo cute! Little bitty thing attached to his big brother!), my hepatic artery, my gall bladder, and my kidneys, and my liver. Everybody that lives inside me is beautiful, and they all look after me everyday.
Everyday.
And now with this I'm going to put a period, and end to this Full Frontal Medical series.
The End.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Drunken Wench Friends
(Warning: Friends, and in particular COLLEAGUES, if you call me up in your drunken state when I am chatting to a cutie AND send me stupid emails, this is what happens. OK? I'm not always a nice person. You should know that, I work with you. I bust people's *balls* with you, remember? Do not piss me off! You of ALL people should know that!)
Dear readers, I have friends, drunken friends, and I work with these drunken people. They are a terrible influence on me (e.g. drink 3 litres of distilled booze with me on a friday night, pass out, and call me up the next day saying "where did we go last night? I remember up to that tequilla shot we did at XXX". etc.) . I was IM-ing a friend (ok, let's be honest, ummm -- cutie) last night when the drunken wench friends called me up from some smokey pub after several rounds of cheap liquor. (Possibly several bucketfuls of cheap, distilled, potato liquor) They were giving me a "booty call" to go out on the piss with them; I was working from home yesterday so I was WELL away from the drunken wench friends. Plus, as I said, I was more distracted by my IM-ing of cutie, plus my "girls" (J & Cy) who were getting realtime updates of my chat to cutie.
HEEEEEEYYYYYY!!! WAAAAASSSSSSUUUUUUPPPPP!!!! GEEEEENNNKKKIIII? (U ok?)
Yes, I am fine drunken wench friends. How are you?
WEEEEE DDRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNK!! WHERE AAAAARRE YOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!! COME DWRINK WIIIIDD UUUUSSSS!!
Um, where are you? I'm kind of busy right now? I'm chatting to my friends, and a cutie, so can I talk to you guys tomorrow?
NOOO WAAAAIIIIIT, SO CAN YOU GUESS HOW MUCH WE HAD? GO AAAAARRRN, JUUUUST GUUEEEEEEEEES.
Um, drunken wench friends I'm kinda busy right now. I'm talking to a CUTIE, and I really don't have time for your drunken arses right now. Listen, I will speak to you tomorrow. OK?
NOOOO!
*BEEP*
(CTR+ALT+DELETE on the coversation by DWR)
*ring ring*
Hello, drunken wench friends, I really don't have time for you right now, I'll speak to you tomorrow, OK?
NAAAAAHHHHHHH, DON'T PUT DA FONE DAAAAAN...
*BEEP*
(once again CTR+ALT+DELETE on the coversation by DWR)
And this charade continued *three* times before the drunken wench friends fucked off and stopped bugging me while I IM'd the cutie and my girls.
This morning, dear readers, I looked in my mailbox, only to be greeted by this email from one of the drunken wench friends.
Title:
Please set up the job code for the Hiyoshi job (Hiyoshi is where I live)
Text:
DWR,
Please set up the project code for the Hiyoshi job so that other consultants can charge. Dont forget your ankenhyo. Besides, you are going to have a task together with Y to maintain the ownership of Mr. A while he is away from Japan.
============= here is the blog draft A and I made tonite============
Tonite, I was having a good conversation with my friend on the net. Shit, my colleagues called me, asking me rubbish questions. Gee, they are talking about me over the cup of beers? Sigh..what is wrong with these people? The other colleague, who is a Japanese female, is now speaking like him, bad influence from me and him, using F-words. :-)
=====================
So there you have it, dear readers, I have drunken wench friends. Right now Y and A do not work in the same building as the DWR. They are safely tucked away 15mins walk from the DWR Office. However, on Feb 6th the Department of DWR is MOVING INTO the drunken wench friends' building. Yes, we will be in the same BUILDING!!! This is dangerous, HIGHLY dangerous, for I can predict what will happen EVERY NIGHT!!!!
Yes, the drunken wench will be DRINKING with the drunken wench friends, which is probably not a good thing for several reasons:
1) My waist line (drinking too much at my age? can't maintain *trim* figure!!)
2) My brain cells (yes, they do die off -- just listen to the drunken wench friends!)
3) My bank account (mojita? mo-money)
4) My sanity (which kind of is a result of item #2)
5) My readers -- yes, that is YOU! (well, less blogging time, and *massive* time lag between draft and post)
6) My "Lump" (lump apparently also likes booze, probably will GROW if fed too much)
7) My lifestyle (yes, I have a life!!)
8) My cats (and also cats)
9) My mum (well, maybe not, but she can occupy a space on my list.... for now)
and finally
10) Nutts (Me)
Dear readers, please do NOT work in the "suit" industry, for you will end up with drunken wench friends.
(Post Script: Ok, Y and A. Remember we are supposed to have dinner with S, who is in town this week? We are boozing, K? And A, don't you DARE tell me that you are off on business -- I know U B chasing *punany*, and you should NOT dump our "session" for some "other" skinny arse. Fridays, my friend, U R MINE!!!! U hear? MIIIIINE. Love you both! And thanks for the email -I'm sure everyone would love it! You have now officially joined the world of Blogging! Welcome, drunken wench friends.)
Dear readers, I have friends, drunken friends, and I work with these drunken people. They are a terrible influence on me (e.g. drink 3 litres of distilled booze with me on a friday night, pass out, and call me up the next day saying "where did we go last night? I remember up to that tequilla shot we did at XXX". etc.) . I was IM-ing a friend (ok, let's be honest, ummm -- cutie) last night when the drunken wench friends called me up from some smokey pub after several rounds of cheap liquor. (Possibly several bucketfuls of cheap, distilled, potato liquor) They were giving me a "booty call" to go out on the piss with them; I was working from home yesterday so I was WELL away from the drunken wench friends. Plus, as I said, I was more distracted by my IM-ing of cutie, plus my "girls" (J & Cy) who were getting realtime updates of my chat to cutie.
HEEEEEEYYYYYY!!! WAAAAASSSSSSUUUUUUPPPPP!!!! GEEEEENNNKKKIIII? (U ok?)
Yes, I am fine drunken wench friends. How are you?
WEEEEE DDRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNK!! WHERE AAAAARRE YOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!! COME DWRINK WIIIIDD UUUUSSSS!!
Um, where are you? I'm kind of busy right now? I'm chatting to my friends, and a cutie, so can I talk to you guys tomorrow?
NOOO WAAAAIIIIIT, SO CAN YOU GUESS HOW MUCH WE HAD? GO AAAAARRRN, JUUUUST GUUEEEEEEEEES.
Um, drunken wench friends I'm kinda busy right now. I'm talking to a CUTIE, and I really don't have time for your drunken arses right now. Listen, I will speak to you tomorrow. OK?
NOOOO!
*BEEP*
(CTR+ALT+DELETE on the coversation by DWR)
*ring ring*
Hello, drunken wench friends, I really don't have time for you right now, I'll speak to you tomorrow, OK?
NAAAAAHHHHHHH, DON'T PUT DA FONE DAAAAAN...
*BEEP*
(once again CTR+ALT+DELETE on the coversation by DWR)
And this charade continued *three* times before the drunken wench friends fucked off and stopped bugging me while I IM'd the cutie and my girls.
This morning, dear readers, I looked in my mailbox, only to be greeted by this email from one of the drunken wench friends.
Title:
Please set up the job code for the Hiyoshi job (Hiyoshi is where I live)
Text:
DWR,
Please set up the project code for the Hiyoshi job so that other consultants can charge. Dont forget your ankenhyo. Besides, you are going to have a task together with Y to maintain the ownership of Mr. A while he is away from Japan.
============= here is the blog draft A and I made tonite============
Tonite, I was having a good conversation with my friend on the net. Shit, my colleagues called me, asking me rubbish questions. Gee, they are talking about me over the cup of beers? Sigh..what is wrong with these people? The other colleague, who is a Japanese female, is now speaking like him, bad influence from me and him, using F-words. :-)
=====================
So there you have it, dear readers, I have drunken wench friends. Right now Y and A do not work in the same building as the DWR. They are safely tucked away 15mins walk from the DWR Office. However, on Feb 6th the Department of DWR is MOVING INTO the drunken wench friends' building. Yes, we will be in the same BUILDING!!! This is dangerous, HIGHLY dangerous, for I can predict what will happen EVERY NIGHT!!!!
Yes, the drunken wench will be DRINKING with the drunken wench friends, which is probably not a good thing for several reasons:
1) My waist line (drinking too much at my age? can't maintain *trim* figure!!)
2) My brain cells (yes, they do die off -- just listen to the drunken wench friends!)
3) My bank account (mojita? mo-money)
4) My sanity (which kind of is a result of item #2)
5) My readers -- yes, that is YOU! (well, less blogging time, and *massive* time lag between draft and post)
6) My "Lump" (lump apparently also likes booze, probably will GROW if fed too much)
7) My lifestyle (yes, I have a life!!)
8) My cats (and also cats)
9) My mum (well, maybe not, but she can occupy a space on my list.... for now)
and finally
10) Nutts (Me)
Dear readers, please do NOT work in the "suit" industry, for you will end up with drunken wench friends.
(Post Script: Ok, Y and A. Remember we are supposed to have dinner with S, who is in town this week? We are boozing, K? And A, don't you DARE tell me that you are off on business -- I know U B chasing *punany*, and you should NOT dump our "session" for some "other" skinny arse. Fridays, my friend, U R MINE!!!! U hear? MIIIIINE. Love you both! And thanks for the email -I'm sure everyone would love it! You have now officially joined the world of Blogging! Welcome, drunken wench friends.)
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Morning Mantra
My mum.... jeez this Blog should be called My Mum's Batty! The woman is just a topic waiting to be shared with the rest of the planet.
Anyway. My mother has a habit of "naming" things, for instance she calls the house plants the "air freshner", the gap in the door -- only wide enuf for the cats to go thru -- "the Animal Trail", the pile of clothes on my bedroom floor "Mt. Laundry" and many more. If you came to my house and installed a bug in the living room you will hear things like:"George, don't chew on the airfreshner" "Belle, quit meowing and come here, use the animal trail", and "DWR, when is Mt. Laundry going to leave your bedroom? " "It's OK, mum, Mt.Laundry is visiting the dry-cleaners this afternoon. The undies are in the laundry basket." (yes, my mum insists on "running" this house which is a good idea, coz I have a rare condition where I get hives, and have a HUGE asthma attack when I attempt to do any form of housework... brrr, just typing the words sends shivers down my spine!)
My mother being a very polite but blunt lady has a "name" for, um, doing a Number 2. (i.e. go for a shit). She calls the process of defecation "Morning Mantra". Why? Well every morning buddist monks say their mantras before breakfast. It's part of their morning "duty". In her mind pooping in the morning is a healthy ritual, and is diligent about reminding us that she's about to go for a shit. I have been hearing the same words in the mornings since I was a kid. "I'm off to say my Morning Mantra." Even when I'm going to the toiled (just for a piss) "Oh, are you off to say your Morning Mantra, dear?".
Please mum, pretty please, do not exhibit any of your excentricities outside this household. Never say to your colleagues, "I'm off to say my Morning Mantra" as you walk into the toilet cubicle, coz YOU WILL BE LOCKED UP!!!!!
My mother is seriously not with it.... Please, please, please! If there is a God up there can you make sure that this woman's genes that reside in me are RECESSIVE? I don't want to end up like her in 30 years time, and I most certainly DO NOT want whako children who become subjects of voyeuristic neighbours' blogs, or worse still, blogged by their OWN children!
Anyway. My mother has a habit of "naming" things, for instance she calls the house plants the "air freshner", the gap in the door -- only wide enuf for the cats to go thru -- "the Animal Trail", the pile of clothes on my bedroom floor "Mt. Laundry" and many more. If you came to my house and installed a bug in the living room you will hear things like:"George, don't chew on the airfreshner" "Belle, quit meowing and come here, use the animal trail", and "DWR, when is Mt. Laundry going to leave your bedroom? " "It's OK, mum, Mt.Laundry is visiting the dry-cleaners this afternoon. The undies are in the laundry basket." (yes, my mum insists on "running" this house which is a good idea, coz I have a rare condition where I get hives, and have a HUGE asthma attack when I attempt to do any form of housework... brrr, just typing the words sends shivers down my spine!)
My mother being a very polite but blunt lady has a "name" for, um, doing a Number 2. (i.e. go for a shit). She calls the process of defecation "Morning Mantra". Why? Well every morning buddist monks say their mantras before breakfast. It's part of their morning "duty". In her mind pooping in the morning is a healthy ritual, and is diligent about reminding us that she's about to go for a shit. I have been hearing the same words in the mornings since I was a kid. "I'm off to say my Morning Mantra." Even when I'm going to the toiled (just for a piss) "Oh, are you off to say your Morning Mantra, dear?".
Please mum, pretty please, do not exhibit any of your excentricities outside this household. Never say to your colleagues, "I'm off to say my Morning Mantra" as you walk into the toilet cubicle, coz YOU WILL BE LOCKED UP!!!!!
My mother is seriously not with it.... Please, please, please! If there is a God up there can you make sure that this woman's genes that reside in me are RECESSIVE? I don't want to end up like her in 30 years time, and I most certainly DO NOT want whako children who become subjects of voyeuristic neighbours' blogs, or worse still, blogged by their OWN children!
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Lovers' Tiff
Today I was eating my "skinny arse" buffalow chicken salad lunch at Tony Romas, complete (ironically) with PHAT hiphop with not so family-oriented lyrics as BGM, after my yoga class at 10:30am this morning.
I was seated in the non-smoking section filled with families, their small kiddies running around oblivious to the "I'm going to fuckyou muthafucka with my 9, mathafucka's" playing in the background. The kiddies were in their highchairs wearing plastic bibs; I was surrounded by screaming kids who were being rushed off by their parents everytime they said "PeePee". These small humans had annoying squeeling toys, flashing fire engines, and talking trains.
Oh well, it's better than getting "stinging eyes" in the "adults only" section.
Sitting opposite me was an interacial couple; a caucasian man in his early 40s with a north american accent , his Japanese partner, a woman about my age (early 30s), and their (probably) 2 year old son who was wearing a standard plastic bib. Happy families, eating BBQ spare ribs at Tony Romas on a Saturday afternoon?
Nah.
I have seen my friends (including myself) go thru relationship "issues"; arguments in public and "darling, I think we need to go home, NOW"s and "I'm going home. Talk to you later"s, but this was the first time that I had seen a full on oratory "Gladiator" battle in a "family" restaurant playing violent gansta rap music. (and no, I'm not blaming violent, but cool rhymes)
Wife: "So, who always ends up fucking looking after S, huh? How am I fucking supposed to do this, blah, blah, fucking blah, blah, blah, fucking blah, nag, nag, fucking nag, naaaaag..."
Husband is trying to keep a smile just incase there is someone in the restaurant who understands the English language e.g. Moi
Wife:" You are soooooo fucking useless, what happens if S, is sick huh? It's always me having to look after him, you are just never there. HUH? And you sit here playing fucking happy-families, well I am fed up with this charade!"
(Husband grinning/grimacing as if to say "Not here, darling, can we talk about this when we get home?)
Wife:" Do you even fucking know who his friends are at playschool? Huh? It's all well that fucking you play good father for 3 hours in a week, but the rest of the fucking time? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
"Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, Nag, fucking Nag, Nag......."
Husband eventually loses his fake smile and his temper:"Darling, in that case, why don't we get a nanny, to help you if you feel that way?"
Wife:"We don't have enuf money. You don't earn enuf money for a fucking nanny! You fucking useless FUCK!!"
Husband had nothing to add to his wife's statement. The two ate their BBQ spare ribs and onion rings in silence as the two year-old blabbered stuff to its parents in both English and in Japanese. At this point I had a flash back from my childhood, and how my parents were always smiling, telling us to sit down and behave ourselves, and how my parents were always smiling, holding hands, and watched over us with so much warmth and love....
(well there you have it married couples fuck less, than when they were single, but say "fucking" a lot more once they get married.)
I hope that "Haafu" kid has at least one moment of love that I received from my parents. None of this arguing shite...
(Post Script: My parents are techinically still married although my father passed away on Nov. 20, 1989. The day that my mother married my father she was in a cab on the way to the shrine; the cabbie drove past a black man, and blurted: "these days, there are some of these mad women who marry those gorillas, I just don't understand them. Why marry a gorilla." She didn't say anything coz she was going to marry a "Gorilla" according to the cabbie. This was back in 1972 when there weren't many interracial marriages between "African" and "Asian" people. I am glad that my parents had a happy marriage -- it would have shown that cabbie a thing or two, coz my parents, regardless of their origins, their age (they were 15 years apart) were able to provide my brother and I with a loving home. I have never seen my parents argue like the couple sitting in front of me did. They were always smiling, and joking, and telling us off. They are the best parents that I could have asked for. They say kids can't chose their parents, but I think I did.)
I was seated in the non-smoking section filled with families, their small kiddies running around oblivious to the "I'm going to fuckyou muthafucka with my 9, mathafucka's" playing in the background. The kiddies were in their highchairs wearing plastic bibs; I was surrounded by screaming kids who were being rushed off by their parents everytime they said "PeePee". These small humans had annoying squeeling toys, flashing fire engines, and talking trains.
Oh well, it's better than getting "stinging eyes" in the "adults only" section.
Sitting opposite me was an interacial couple; a caucasian man in his early 40s with a north american accent , his Japanese partner, a woman about my age (early 30s), and their (probably) 2 year old son who was wearing a standard plastic bib. Happy families, eating BBQ spare ribs at Tony Romas on a Saturday afternoon?
Nah.
I have seen my friends (including myself) go thru relationship "issues"; arguments in public and "darling, I think we need to go home, NOW"s and "I'm going home. Talk to you later"s, but this was the first time that I had seen a full on oratory "Gladiator" battle in a "family" restaurant playing violent gansta rap music. (and no, I'm not blaming violent, but cool rhymes)
Wife: "So, who always ends up fucking looking after S, huh? How am I fucking supposed to do this, blah, blah, fucking blah, blah, blah, fucking blah, nag, nag, fucking nag, naaaaag..."
Husband is trying to keep a smile just incase there is someone in the restaurant who understands the English language e.g. Moi
Wife:" You are soooooo fucking useless, what happens if S, is sick huh? It's always me having to look after him, you are just never there. HUH? And you sit here playing fucking happy-families, well I am fed up with this charade!"
(Husband grinning/grimacing as if to say "Not here, darling, can we talk about this when we get home?)
Wife:" Do you even fucking know who his friends are at playschool? Huh? It's all well that fucking you play good father for 3 hours in a week, but the rest of the fucking time? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
"Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, fucking Nag,Nag, Nag,Nag, Nag, fucking Nag, Nag......."
Husband eventually loses his fake smile and his temper:"Darling, in that case, why don't we get a nanny, to help you if you feel that way?"
Wife:"We don't have enuf money. You don't earn enuf money for a fucking nanny! You fucking useless FUCK!!"
Husband had nothing to add to his wife's statement. The two ate their BBQ spare ribs and onion rings in silence as the two year-old blabbered stuff to its parents in both English and in Japanese. At this point I had a flash back from my childhood, and how my parents were always smiling, telling us to sit down and behave ourselves, and how my parents were always smiling, holding hands, and watched over us with so much warmth and love....
(well there you have it married couples fuck less, than when they were single, but say "fucking" a lot more once they get married.)
I hope that "Haafu" kid has at least one moment of love that I received from my parents. None of this arguing shite...
(Post Script: My parents are techinically still married although my father passed away on Nov. 20, 1989. The day that my mother married my father she was in a cab on the way to the shrine; the cabbie drove past a black man, and blurted: "these days, there are some of these mad women who marry those gorillas, I just don't understand them. Why marry a gorilla." She didn't say anything coz she was going to marry a "Gorilla" according to the cabbie. This was back in 1972 when there weren't many interracial marriages between "African" and "Asian" people. I am glad that my parents had a happy marriage -- it would have shown that cabbie a thing or two, coz my parents, regardless of their origins, their age (they were 15 years apart) were able to provide my brother and I with a loving home. I have never seen my parents argue like the couple sitting in front of me did. They were always smiling, and joking, and telling us off. They are the best parents that I could have asked for. They say kids can't chose their parents, but I think I did.)
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Who Comes Up With These Slogans?
As you know, dear readers, I "specialise" in consulting the Pharmaceutical/Life Science industries. Today, once again, I am doing some research for a proposal that I'm putting together. I am going from one pharma-web page to the other, only to be greeted by the web page receptionist: Their Slogans.
Pharma companies, just like insurance companies, are in the business of making money off people who "think", or they "are" sick. In otherwords, keeping "death" at barely-bay is their business. I mean you don't want your client base dropping off like flies after you spray insecticide, right? The more "semi-healthy" your clients, the better business for them.
So everytime I am greeted by the virtual receptionist at the Pharma-web pages, I am AMAZED! Who the fuck comes up with these slogans to make their business sound pallatable. Why don't they just say: "We make drugs to keep you alive, but unfortunately we have to design them to give you side effects. Otherwise not good for business you have to understand. But don't worry, we have more drugs to *alleviate* your side effects. We aim to keep you alive, healthy or not, till you are a centenarian!"
I'll give you an example of the *Best In Class* Pharma slogans:
Pharma companies, just like insurance companies, are in the business of making money off people who "think", or they "are" sick. In otherwords, keeping "death" at barely-bay is their business. I mean you don't want your client base dropping off like flies after you spray insecticide, right? The more "semi-healthy" your clients, the better business for them.
So everytime I am greeted by the virtual receptionist at the Pharma-web pages, I am AMAZED! Who the fuck comes up with these slogans to make their business sound pallatable. Why don't they just say: "We make drugs to keep you alive, but unfortunately we have to design them to give you side effects. Otherwise not good for business you have to understand. But don't worry, we have more drugs to *alleviate* your side effects. We aim to keep you alive, healthy or not, till you are a centenarian!"
I'll give you an example of the *Best In Class* Pharma slogans:
- "Changing the World With Great Care" -- no shit, if you went about it like a bull in a China shop? Fuck! Our environment is already screwed, there are civil wars and conflicts, and there are nutcases with WMD (i.e. nuclear/biological/chemical warfare) ?? You BETTER be *careful* trying to "change" the world! And if you start singing "I'd like to teach, the world would sing, in perfect harmony..." I WILL SLAP YA!!
- "We Create Vital Energy" (this is a slogan of a famous Japanese company that specialises in chemotherapy) Umm.... vital energy, right. You make drugs for really sick, and really dying people. Of course you make "vital energy" just to keep them alive for even one day!! I mean, your client base is um... dying, right? I'd suggest that you move your R&D pipeline to something more profitable if I didn't have a "lump" myself! Oh, and by the way? Your products suck; too much side-effects so you better come up with better antiemetics so that people don't puke up ALL the time after they are given your, um, crappy drugs? Efficacy good, side efffects baaaaad. And don't try to *fool* an angry, lumpy pharmacologist! I know you guyz! And I'm keeping a cloooose eye on you.
- "Human Health Care" -- well done! First step in recognising your own business! HUMAN HEALTH CARE!! What did you think you were? An oil merchant?? HELLO!!! You are in the "Pharma" industry? Did you think you were changing engine oil for old Chevvies? WTF?
- "Our global quest is to improve the quality of human life by enabling people to do more, feel better, and live longer." -- Oooooh, you are *almost* the only company that is telling the truth about your intensions, but well sugar coated. I'll give you that. Yes, you want us to live longer, semi-sick, semi-worried about silly things so that you will have an increased client base. GOOD! You now have the basic concept of supply and demand. Supply us with crappy drugs that will keep us semi-alive, and you will have a constant demand of people in need of drugs! Good! I like honesty, that's very good.
- "Create Innovative Drugs In A Unique Way" -- hey, if you were making "innovative drugs" in the same old fashioned way, I will take my business and my sick arse somewhere else. It is in your best DUTY to come up with unique ways to make your drugs!! Don't state the obvious! Jeez -- get a new temp for this job! This one sucks!
- "Enriching the Quality of Life" -- would you like to elaborate on this one? How are you going to "enrich" my life? What are you going to enrich it with? More expensive drugs that would de-rich my bank account, or are you going to give me some cooool drugs that would increase my revenue coz I become soooo super intelligent, and can multitask, etc. while I am on the Job and blog? Or are you going to miraculously make me win the lottery with your products? Tell me more!
- "Everone Should Be Able to Get The Medicines They Need" -- Too fucking right! And who is hampering this progress? YOU!
- "Making Medicines Work" -- sorry, I know that I have killed a few brain cells off with my alcohol abuse, but please. I'm not going to buy drugs from a company that openly states that they are "Making Medicines that Don't Work?" Common sense, dear company, common sense! Please!
- "In Feb. 1999 I chose the music for my funeral; within weeks I got out of my wheel chair to walk on my own" -- LaDonna Lopossa. Read LaDonna's story here =>. Fuck me! Is this some Televangelist sponsoring this pharma co? I cannot believe that I am seeing this shit! Web-receptionist is telling me to look at hallmark adds as soon as I walk into the bloodsucking doorways! WTF? I am not falling for this sappy shit. Give me the correct info, and I am going to fuck off before you sell me bibles!
- "Live Inspiring Ideas" -- yes well "living inspiring ideas" is all too good, that's what I used to do as a student when I was constantly stoned.... Can you at least say something like "Changing Inspriation to Real Product" or something? What the fuck do you make anyway? More drugs for men who can't get it up?
- "Extending and Enhancing Human Life" -- now *that* is the first one, honest to gawd web-receptionist, that has come anywhere close to the truth. Yes, you extend our lives, yes you give us the "illusion" that our life has been enhanced, and when your drugs run out? We come running back for more! Gosh! You are like the best crack dealers! Get them hooked on the quality shit, and then as the crackheads get more addicted and needy, give them the "new enhanced version" i.e. more shite, so that there is an endless supply of people trying to "extend and enhance their human lives". The older guyz are better coz they get paranoid about dying -- give them the illusion of longlivity, euphoria -- damn! You are good! I think you are "Best in Practice"!!
Dear readers, never listen to the web-receptionists at pharmaceutical company web-pages.... They are full of shit, coz you know why? They hire bullshit artists -- like me -- to come up with silly slogans.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Warning: Negative Post!!!
If you feel depressed, or this is your first visit? Read the story below... just scroll down, you'll find it. It's not hard to miss. I wrote it when I was still relatively OK while I was at the hospital waiting room so it's still a happy, normal DWR post.
But not this one....
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am tired today. I cried, and cried, and cried till there were no more tears... I feel empty.
In addition to my CT I had my bimonthly counselling session with Dana today. We talked about BwanaK being stuck in Sri Lanka, my mum turning into a vegitable during that time, and my "lump". I think that was more than enuf for a 1.5hr session. There are other stuff that I want to let out, but I have no energy. I have to wait 10 days to find out the results of my CT
I'm tired and fed up of waiting. I've been waiting since Dec. 29th. When is this shit going to end, Nutts? When will it end.... I've got my second round of interviews on the 26th. I even bought a new suit for that interview! I have my yoga retreat/diving holiday in Thailand -- my first holiday in a year!! And these fluffy wankers, with their fucking fluffy clouds, are telling me that they can't give me my results till the 27th?
That's TEN DAYS TIME!!!
When, oh when is this fucking nightmare going to end!!
I need to live, damn it!!! I need to get laid, to fall in love again, to finish my book(s), to go diving, to go on holiday, to see my friends, to climb Everest -- even if it is only to Base Camp!
When's this fucking shit going to end, for fuck's sake. I'm tired.
(Post Script: Sorry for the negative post, but I just had to let it out. I'm human, I have shitty days too -- but just been having too many of them lately , that's all.... I'm not always this bitter. I promise...)
But not this one....
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I am tired today. I cried, and cried, and cried till there were no more tears... I feel empty.
In addition to my CT I had my bimonthly counselling session with Dana today. We talked about BwanaK being stuck in Sri Lanka, my mum turning into a vegitable during that time, and my "lump". I think that was more than enuf for a 1.5hr session. There are other stuff that I want to let out, but I have no energy. I have to wait 10 days to find out the results of my CT
I'm tired and fed up of waiting. I've been waiting since Dec. 29th. When is this shit going to end, Nutts? When will it end.... I've got my second round of interviews on the 26th. I even bought a new suit for that interview! I have my yoga retreat/diving holiday in Thailand -- my first holiday in a year!! And these fluffy wankers, with their fucking fluffy clouds, are telling me that they can't give me my results till the 27th?
That's TEN DAYS TIME!!!
When, oh when is this fucking nightmare going to end!!
I need to live, damn it!!! I need to get laid, to fall in love again, to finish my book(s), to go diving, to go on holiday, to see my friends, to climb Everest -- even if it is only to Base Camp!
When's this fucking shit going to end, for fuck's sake. I'm tired.
(Post Script: Sorry for the negative post, but I just had to let it out. I'm human, I have shitty days too -- but just been having too many of them lately , that's all.... I'm not always this bitter. I promise...)
Monday, January 17, 2005
Full Frontal Medical Part 8: Helical CT & Kodak Moments of My Pancreas.
(note: today is Deee Day, and I just went thru my helical CT after the dodgy results from my Full Frontal Medical...)
So, as usual I'm running fashionably late to go to the doctors. Had to call them up and tell them that I'll be late coz (once again) I'm semi-hung over, semi-drunk, and running late....
Oh, it's OK, you're the DWR, right? Helical CT at 1:30pm? Oh we can move you to 2:30pm.
Gawd, they must know me well by now -- I come here for my asthma, I'm here once a year for a Full Frontal Medical, and I also get my "punany" (female reproductive organs) checked at this hospital. They *know* I'm always "running late". My gynaechologist (a woman) remembers me veeeery vividly, for the first time I went to her she had "noted" something about the wench-punany.
"Oh my! What happened? You obviosly do not shave like some of my clients. You have no hair! Let me check your blood for hormone levels.... Have you always been like this?"
"Ummmm.... No. I get it *removed*. You know, 'wax on, wax off'? I know I don't get laid that frequently, but I still keep my "tush" in shape, you know, just in case I *do* get lucky?"
"My Gawd! I've never heard, or *seen*, such thing! Doesn't it hurt? Do you do it yourself?"
(of course it does!! wax on, wax off!?!?! But anything for the sake of beauty, and sensual cunilingus!!!!)
HELL NO! I get Holly at Boudoir to do it! Do you want her phone number? She'll do a fantastic job! Just look at me. And this is over a week old!!
(Boudoir is the only place in the *whole* of Tokyo, hell maybe even JAPAN, that does Brazilian waxes. Anyway, why do they call the fanny wax "Brazilian"? Do all Brazilian women have them? Mayby it's for the carnival; I've seen some really skimpy stuff on those women! WHOA! I you had a "Fair Enough" you'be really, um, exposing more than what you wished at the festival, right? Not so good, lah!
Readers, watch any Japanese porn, or go to a public bath/hotspring and you will see that the women of the "land of the rising sun" have 70s-porn-actress style, "natural" (i.e. unkept), bushy punanies.
Serious!!!
Anyways, my designer pussy aside, I get called by the receptionist who tells me to go to "Basement 1" for my CT. Now this hospital is a very "fluffy" hospital. It has a name, a theme for each of the floors in the building:
"The Forest Floor" is the general outpatient floor.
"The Sea Floor" is for the old cronnies that have nothing wrong with them, apart from the fact that they are old, so get handed out placebos; some even get massages for their aches and pain -- anything to make them feel better. All within their healthcare limit, of course.
"The Asian Resort Floor" is where people have their Full Frontal Medicals.
"The Angel's Floor" is where they have all the "femmy" stuff. The fanny and tit doctors are there. (There are only women doctors on this floor -- makes us feel better to have a woman look after our tits and fanny.) So what is "Basement 1" called?
The Examination Floor.
Great. Makes me feel well at home, huh? I'm in some basement called the "Examination Floor" getting Kodak Moments of my pancreas.
Fuck.
A "fluffy" bloke greets me and takes me to the "changing" room. (what am I going to change into? Dracula?) He told me to take all my clothes off, apart from my knickers, and to get into this blue gown, which I can discribe only as being made from recycled paper.
Paper gowns and helical CTs...
I go into the CT room after I get out of my warm, wooly "normal" clothing (all natural fibres), and into the recycled-paper gown.
"Okaaay. You'll be fine. Please drink this. It's only water. Okaaaay? Right, please lie down with your head here, okaaaay? Right, and please raise your hands. Fiiiiiine. We'll take pictures first without the dye. Dr. M, your respiratory doctor, will be here for the second half when the radiologist injects you with the dye. You'll be fine, okaaay?
Thank you "fluffy" radiologist's assistant.
I lay down on the machine, and guess what? The CT room has "fluffy" clouds painted on the ceiling!!! This place is unbelievably fluffy. It wouldn't surprise me if they give me a teddy bear and a *biiiig huuuug* if I am diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Oh well, WTF. Oh! Wonderful! There is a CCTV just above my head so they can keep an eye on me in case something goes wrong. They are not *that* fluffy after all! I'm OK. If I lose consciousness they'll rescue me by injecting me with fluffy drugs in their fluffy gowns (probably wearing fluffy slippers!) so that I can wake up to fluffy clouds! Great. Fantastic.
I am told over the loud speaker to breath in, breath out, and hold it "there" several times as my "bed" moves. I see read, orange, and green lights flashing in the dome that they put me in; I can also see something "whizzing" around at the centre of the dome, but fuck it, I'm hung over, tired, and I'm more distracted by the fluffy clouds anyway. I wish I had my camera on me to take a picture and to show you, dear readers, the clouds really ARE fluffy, and I really AM wearing a paper gown.
(I'm only 31! WTF am I doing looking at a ceiling painted with blue skies and fluffy clouds!!)
After about 10mins of breath in/out/holds the "big boss" radiologist and my regular asthma doctor, Dr. M, came in.
"Hi Dr. M! Yeah, I'm in the basement today, not the "Forest Floor" -- teehee. You'll rescue me if I have an asthma attack, right?"
"It's OK, DWR. You've been my patient for 6 years now. You'll be fine; I'm here."
(Thank you Dr. M!! Shit, I'm now about as fluffy as the fucking clouds on the ceiling!)
The clumsy radiologist drops the IV tube (Oh, 5 second rule, it's OK! No!!!! I am *not* in good hands here!!) and asks me my name for clarification.
DEE. DABULYU. AAARE.
"Are you allergic to anything?"
My asthma doc and I reply in unison:"Non-steroidal-anti-immflamatory drugs, lactose intolerant, and allergy to shellfish"
(Boy am I glad Dr. M is here!) Does the radiologist *have* my medical records? Is he trying to trick me? Or does he have shit for brains??
The radiologist is as "fluffy" as his assistant. While he tries to find a vein in my left arm (I have very deep, fragile veins) he's explaining to me that I will have a warm (fuzzy?) feeling as he injects the "dye" into me. Dr. M and he will be constantly monitoring me thru-out the procedure, "Oh where's that vein" , but if I feel queezy, or funny, at anytime I have to tell them. "The microphone is here, and the CCTV is here. Okaaaay? You'll be fiiiiiiine."
Oh and the fluffy clouds are above...
DR.M!!!! You are my *only* hope in this fluffy place!!! I'm sooooo glad you are here to sort these fluffy buggers out!
The radiologist eventually finds one of my shy veins, and sticks an IV needle and tube attatched to his dye, which ironically is "clear". "Tell me when you feel 'warm', then we'll start". By this time I don't care; I'm hung over, dyed up, and I'm semi-tripping on the fluffy clouds. I feel a warm sensation in my left arm.
"Yuuuup. Doooooc. My left arm is warm and fuzzy, just like the clouds...."
(Dr.M is grinning by now, coz he's known me for 6 years and he *knows* that I'm the least "fluffiest" of all his patients -- I give him grief all the time about my medication!)
"Okaaaay, we'll start then. The timing between the breaths will be longer, but you should be fiiiiiine. Okaaaaay?"
Okaaay! Fuck off! Get the bloody thing over and done with! *Breathe* Nutts, breathe, just keep looking at the fluffy clouds, and we'll be fine.
It took another 10mins of breath in/out/holds before I was done. Dr.M asked me to get up slowly, listened to my lungs, and told me that I am fine. But I have to drink lots of water to get the dye out of my system. Remember?
"NSAIDs, Lactose Intolerance, and Allergy to Shellfish" (God, he's brill! Why is he sooooo good to me! Dr. M is the only non-fluffy person here!!)
I paid for the CT, 9000yen (US$90), and asked when I will get my results.
Oh your "stomach" doctor is not in until.... the 27th. What time would you like to come in? He's here only in the morning.
WHHHAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!!! TTTHHHEEEEEEEE!!!!!! FFFAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!
So, as usual I'm running fashionably late to go to the doctors. Had to call them up and tell them that I'll be late coz (once again) I'm semi-hung over, semi-drunk, and running late....
Oh, it's OK, you're the DWR, right? Helical CT at 1:30pm? Oh we can move you to 2:30pm.
Gawd, they must know me well by now -- I come here for my asthma, I'm here once a year for a Full Frontal Medical, and I also get my "punany" (female reproductive organs) checked at this hospital. They *know* I'm always "running late". My gynaechologist (a woman) remembers me veeeery vividly, for the first time I went to her she had "noted" something about the wench-punany.
"Oh my! What happened? You obviosly do not shave like some of my clients. You have no hair! Let me check your blood for hormone levels.... Have you always been like this?"
"Ummmm.... No. I get it *removed*. You know, 'wax on, wax off'? I know I don't get laid that frequently, but I still keep my "tush" in shape, you know, just in case I *do* get lucky?"
"My Gawd! I've never heard, or *seen*, such thing! Doesn't it hurt? Do you do it yourself?"
(of course it does!! wax on, wax off!?!?! But anything for the sake of beauty, and sensual cunilingus!!!!)
HELL NO! I get Holly at Boudoir to do it! Do you want her phone number? She'll do a fantastic job! Just look at me. And this is over a week old!!
(Boudoir is the only place in the *whole* of Tokyo, hell maybe even JAPAN, that does Brazilian waxes. Anyway, why do they call the fanny wax "Brazilian"? Do all Brazilian women have them? Mayby it's for the carnival; I've seen some really skimpy stuff on those women! WHOA! I you had a "Fair Enough" you'be really, um, exposing more than what you wished at the festival, right? Not so good, lah!
Readers, watch any Japanese porn, or go to a public bath/hotspring and you will see that the women of the "land of the rising sun" have 70s-porn-actress style, "natural" (i.e. unkept), bushy punanies.
Serious!!!
Anyways, my designer pussy aside, I get called by the receptionist who tells me to go to "Basement 1" for my CT. Now this hospital is a very "fluffy" hospital. It has a name, a theme for each of the floors in the building:
"The Forest Floor" is the general outpatient floor.
"The Sea Floor" is for the old cronnies that have nothing wrong with them, apart from the fact that they are old, so get handed out placebos; some even get massages for their aches and pain -- anything to make them feel better. All within their healthcare limit, of course.
"The Asian Resort Floor" is where people have their Full Frontal Medicals.
"The Angel's Floor" is where they have all the "femmy" stuff. The fanny and tit doctors are there. (There are only women doctors on this floor -- makes us feel better to have a woman look after our tits and fanny.) So what is "Basement 1" called?
The Examination Floor.
Great. Makes me feel well at home, huh? I'm in some basement called the "Examination Floor" getting Kodak Moments of my pancreas.
Fuck.
A "fluffy" bloke greets me and takes me to the "changing" room. (what am I going to change into? Dracula?) He told me to take all my clothes off, apart from my knickers, and to get into this blue gown, which I can discribe only as being made from recycled paper.
Paper gowns and helical CTs...
I go into the CT room after I get out of my warm, wooly "normal" clothing (all natural fibres), and into the recycled-paper gown.
"Okaaay. You'll be fine. Please drink this. It's only water. Okaaaay? Right, please lie down with your head here, okaaaay? Right, and please raise your hands. Fiiiiiine. We'll take pictures first without the dye. Dr. M, your respiratory doctor, will be here for the second half when the radiologist injects you with the dye. You'll be fine, okaaay?
Thank you "fluffy" radiologist's assistant.
I lay down on the machine, and guess what? The CT room has "fluffy" clouds painted on the ceiling!!! This place is unbelievably fluffy. It wouldn't surprise me if they give me a teddy bear and a *biiiig huuuug* if I am diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Oh well, WTF. Oh! Wonderful! There is a CCTV just above my head so they can keep an eye on me in case something goes wrong. They are not *that* fluffy after all! I'm OK. If I lose consciousness they'll rescue me by injecting me with fluffy drugs in their fluffy gowns (probably wearing fluffy slippers!) so that I can wake up to fluffy clouds! Great. Fantastic.
I am told over the loud speaker to breath in, breath out, and hold it "there" several times as my "bed" moves. I see read, orange, and green lights flashing in the dome that they put me in; I can also see something "whizzing" around at the centre of the dome, but fuck it, I'm hung over, tired, and I'm more distracted by the fluffy clouds anyway. I wish I had my camera on me to take a picture and to show you, dear readers, the clouds really ARE fluffy, and I really AM wearing a paper gown.
(I'm only 31! WTF am I doing looking at a ceiling painted with blue skies and fluffy clouds!!)
After about 10mins of breath in/out/holds the "big boss" radiologist and my regular asthma doctor, Dr. M, came in.
"Hi Dr. M! Yeah, I'm in the basement today, not the "Forest Floor" -- teehee. You'll rescue me if I have an asthma attack, right?"
"It's OK, DWR. You've been my patient for 6 years now. You'll be fine; I'm here."
(Thank you Dr. M!! Shit, I'm now about as fluffy as the fucking clouds on the ceiling!)
The clumsy radiologist drops the IV tube (Oh, 5 second rule, it's OK! No!!!! I am *not* in good hands here!!) and asks me my name for clarification.
DEE. DABULYU. AAARE.
"Are you allergic to anything?"
My asthma doc and I reply in unison:"Non-steroidal-anti-immflamatory drugs, lactose intolerant, and allergy to shellfish"
(Boy am I glad Dr. M is here!) Does the radiologist *have* my medical records? Is he trying to trick me? Or does he have shit for brains??
The radiologist is as "fluffy" as his assistant. While he tries to find a vein in my left arm (I have very deep, fragile veins) he's explaining to me that I will have a warm (fuzzy?) feeling as he injects the "dye" into me. Dr. M and he will be constantly monitoring me thru-out the procedure, "Oh where's that vein" , but if I feel queezy, or funny, at anytime I have to tell them. "The microphone is here, and the CCTV is here. Okaaaay? You'll be fiiiiiiine."
Oh and the fluffy clouds are above...
DR.M!!!! You are my *only* hope in this fluffy place!!! I'm sooooo glad you are here to sort these fluffy buggers out!
The radiologist eventually finds one of my shy veins, and sticks an IV needle and tube attatched to his dye, which ironically is "clear". "Tell me when you feel 'warm', then we'll start". By this time I don't care; I'm hung over, dyed up, and I'm semi-tripping on the fluffy clouds. I feel a warm sensation in my left arm.
"Yuuuup. Doooooc. My left arm is warm and fuzzy, just like the clouds...."
(Dr.M is grinning by now, coz he's known me for 6 years and he *knows* that I'm the least "fluffiest" of all his patients -- I give him grief all the time about my medication!)
"Okaaaay, we'll start then. The timing between the breaths will be longer, but you should be fiiiiiine. Okaaaaay?"
Okaaay! Fuck off! Get the bloody thing over and done with! *Breathe* Nutts, breathe, just keep looking at the fluffy clouds, and we'll be fine.
It took another 10mins of breath in/out/holds before I was done. Dr.M asked me to get up slowly, listened to my lungs, and told me that I am fine. But I have to drink lots of water to get the dye out of my system. Remember?
"NSAIDs, Lactose Intolerance, and Allergy to Shellfish" (God, he's brill! Why is he sooooo good to me! Dr. M is the only non-fluffy person here!!)
I paid for the CT, 9000yen (US$90), and asked when I will get my results.
Oh your "stomach" doctor is not in until.... the 27th. What time would you like to come in? He's here only in the morning.
WHHHAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!!! TTTHHHEEEEEEEE!!!!!! FFFAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!
WTF??
Not only had I waited since December 29th to see the doctor AND to CT'd, but I also have to wait another TEN DAYS for my results?
WTF?
Dr.M, if only the rest of this entire hospital is as efficient, and non-fluffy like you.... I have to wait 10 days for my results.
Great.
Fucking Great!
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Dee Day Minus One
Tomorrow I get to have my pancreas "tomographied" for Kodak Moments to confirm if the suspected "lump" they found during my Full Frontal Medical is *really* there, or whether the incompetent quack who took my ultrasound mistook the "lump" for my second spleen. (I have two spleens, a rare, and redundant condition.) They will be injecting me with dye and taking a 3D image of my internal organs which should take about 50mins. Fancy that? I get to *see* my pancreas; I've been living with it now for 31+ years, and this is the first time I see my friend who supposedly makes insulin and digestive juices so that I can convert food into "useful" energy.
Energy for me to live.
I've always been fascinated by the concept of Schrodinger's Cat. For all I know my pancreas may not exist until the moment it is *seen* thru computerised, or magnetic imaging. For all I know my pancreas could constantly be in a completely different dimention until we "investigate" it. Who can prove -- absolutely -- that it is there when we cannot *see*, nor apply any of our 5 senses to it (or even if we could, do our 5 senses even tell us the correct information for that matter?). For all I can care there may be three little "imps" that live in my body working shifts while my lumpy pancreas takes a holiday in a different dimention, and as soon as the "docs" get into investigation mode, they just swap places with the small clump of cells that was sipping pina colada's by the poolside in a different dimention only moments ago. Imps are always shy, I suppose. A bit like me.
"If a tree falls and no one hears it, does the tree make a sound? "
If one's pancreas is supposedly creating insulin, but no one sees it, is it really there in my body until we "see" it through imaging? Is our imaging techniques accurate? Are we sure that there are no insulin manufacturing "Imps" in our bodies that just seem to hide when we look for it?"
So how do I feel about going thru my first round of tests for my suspected lump? I don't know how to describe it. I've been waiting for this day for nearly a month because of the New Years' break for the doctors. My lump is not an emergency case, right? I can't demand a CT scan at Accident&Emergency ASAP to just make sure if I'm OK. I've had days when I'm OK with it and looking forward to finding out what it is, on others I am depressed and find it soooo difficult to even get out of the house; I start drinking at 9am just to block out the boredom and the negative thoughts. I've missed 4 working days because I just can't make it out the house. Who wouldn't? Knowing that both your parents have been aflicted with cancer, my great grandfather also died of cancer... There is too much cancer in my family to keep things in perspective sometimes.
Plus I am already on "happy pills" to keep it together in general. Happy Happy, Joy Joy.
Tomorrow at 1:30pm I will be going thru my helical CT. I need to keep aware of any changes in my body, and also find out when I can get my full results of my CT -- probably thursday, or friday when my "intestinal" doc is on call for outpatients. I have already spoken to my boss, Director T, and he already knows that I may have a potentially serious condition. If I have to go for a biopsy? Well, we'll cross that bridge when I get there. I have good private, insurance coverage (luckily) so financially I should be OK. I have already drafted a "will" which I will complete only after I get the results of a biopsy. Only then, not now. I don't want to depress those around me. There are many things that I need to do; my father had terminal cancer, and he could not finish all the things that he needed to/wanted to do. I don't want to follow his footpaths.
I want to hike in the Himalayas, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, go to Machu Pichu, dive in the Maldives, go on a "cleansing" retreat. I want to eat "Pat Thai" on Kao San Road, eat Dim Sum in Fanling, I want to haggle for cheap silk in Ulanbatur; I want to ring the "bells" in Lhasa, I want to climb Ayre's Rock, I want to feed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, and be abused by the waiters at Yong Kees, I want to.....
Fall in love again.
Yesterday I was at my "head" doctor. I told him about my CT, the stress I felt when I was trying to bring BwanaK back home safely, and how I felt the pressures of being the "head of the family" (shit, I almost sound like Tony Soprano!) We talked for a while, and I told him that I had already drafted my will just in case something happened to me.
"But what about you? You always think about everyone else around you. Have you thought about yourself? How do you feel?"
"Doc, I have NO intension of dying. I have a bood to write, my blog to continue, a good job waiting for me, and I have to look after my family and my cats!! Plus I need to get laid! If I have to go under the knife, I will probably be joking with the surgeon about scarring me for life!"
(We laughed hard after that one!)
"You really are different from most of my patients. I don't have too many patients like you -- you are unique; strong, realistic, perfectionist, but you still have your Achilles heel. And that's why you are here.
(I concur.)
Dear readers, I have noooooo intension of being a candle in the wind. I intend to burn bright, smile, go to Amsterdam for a "date" -- hehe. I also intend to get that "Fuck-Off" job that will let me travel, and most of all, I intend to fall in love again.
Wish me well for tomorrow.
DWR.
Energy for me to live.
I've always been fascinated by the concept of Schrodinger's Cat. For all I know my pancreas may not exist until the moment it is *seen* thru computerised, or magnetic imaging. For all I know my pancreas could constantly be in a completely different dimention until we "investigate" it. Who can prove -- absolutely -- that it is there when we cannot *see*, nor apply any of our 5 senses to it (or even if we could, do our 5 senses even tell us the correct information for that matter?). For all I can care there may be three little "imps" that live in my body working shifts while my lumpy pancreas takes a holiday in a different dimention, and as soon as the "docs" get into investigation mode, they just swap places with the small clump of cells that was sipping pina colada's by the poolside in a different dimention only moments ago. Imps are always shy, I suppose. A bit like me.
"If a tree falls and no one hears it, does the tree make a sound? "
If one's pancreas is supposedly creating insulin, but no one sees it, is it really there in my body until we "see" it through imaging? Is our imaging techniques accurate? Are we sure that there are no insulin manufacturing "Imps" in our bodies that just seem to hide when we look for it?"
So how do I feel about going thru my first round of tests for my suspected lump? I don't know how to describe it. I've been waiting for this day for nearly a month because of the New Years' break for the doctors. My lump is not an emergency case, right? I can't demand a CT scan at Accident&Emergency ASAP to just make sure if I'm OK. I've had days when I'm OK with it and looking forward to finding out what it is, on others I am depressed and find it soooo difficult to even get out of the house; I start drinking at 9am just to block out the boredom and the negative thoughts. I've missed 4 working days because I just can't make it out the house. Who wouldn't? Knowing that both your parents have been aflicted with cancer, my great grandfather also died of cancer... There is too much cancer in my family to keep things in perspective sometimes.
Plus I am already on "happy pills" to keep it together in general. Happy Happy, Joy Joy.
Tomorrow at 1:30pm I will be going thru my helical CT. I need to keep aware of any changes in my body, and also find out when I can get my full results of my CT -- probably thursday, or friday when my "intestinal" doc is on call for outpatients. I have already spoken to my boss, Director T, and he already knows that I may have a potentially serious condition. If I have to go for a biopsy? Well, we'll cross that bridge when I get there. I have good private, insurance coverage (luckily) so financially I should be OK. I have already drafted a "will" which I will complete only after I get the results of a biopsy. Only then, not now. I don't want to depress those around me. There are many things that I need to do; my father had terminal cancer, and he could not finish all the things that he needed to/wanted to do. I don't want to follow his footpaths.
I want to hike in the Himalayas, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, go to Machu Pichu, dive in the Maldives, go on a "cleansing" retreat. I want to eat "Pat Thai" on Kao San Road, eat Dim Sum in Fanling, I want to haggle for cheap silk in Ulanbatur; I want to ring the "bells" in Lhasa, I want to climb Ayre's Rock, I want to feed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, and be abused by the waiters at Yong Kees, I want to.....
Fall in love again.
Yesterday I was at my "head" doctor. I told him about my CT, the stress I felt when I was trying to bring BwanaK back home safely, and how I felt the pressures of being the "head of the family" (shit, I almost sound like Tony Soprano!) We talked for a while, and I told him that I had already drafted my will just in case something happened to me.
"But what about you? You always think about everyone else around you. Have you thought about yourself? How do you feel?"
"Doc, I have NO intension of dying. I have a bood to write, my blog to continue, a good job waiting for me, and I have to look after my family and my cats!! Plus I need to get laid! If I have to go under the knife, I will probably be joking with the surgeon about scarring me for life!"
(We laughed hard after that one!)
"You really are different from most of my patients. I don't have too many patients like you -- you are unique; strong, realistic, perfectionist, but you still have your Achilles heel. And that's why you are here.
(I concur.)
Dear readers, I have noooooo intension of being a candle in the wind. I intend to burn bright, smile, go to Amsterdam for a "date" -- hehe. I also intend to get that "Fuck-Off" job that will let me travel, and most of all, I intend to fall in love again.
Wish me well for tomorrow.
DWR.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
I Share DNA With A Mad Woman
I kid you not, dear readers, there is a crazy wench-mum living under the same roof as me. I usually tend to ignore her rantings, for instance she bitches about me to my cats, she talks to her alarm clock, and I have often caught her singing lullabies to her chopsticks. Oh and she also talks to herself, frequently, but this is "normal" behaviour for the wench-mum. Today, however, I was disturbed by her actions while I was writing emails to my friends; I am seriously thinking about putting myself up for clinical trials for gene therapy to remove this woman's genes.
She sat in her chair reading the newspaper, and suddenly raised her arms in the air, started to wave them ("Blllluuuuuuurrrrr"), and "wiggle".
WTF? Oh she's really lost it now. Fuck!
Ummm.... mum, what are you doing?
I'm wiggling.
Yes, I can see that. But why?
Oh, well my hands are puffy from oedema, and I was just reading here the benefits of "wiggling" as a form of excersise. See? My hands are all puffy.
Huh... Mum, get out of your chair, *walk*, do some physical excersise; the reason why you are "puffy" is probably because you have really bad flow in your lymphatic system, raising your arms and wiggling in your chair is probably not going to do anything. Plus have you actually *moved* from your chair today? huh? I left this morning at 9am to go to Yoga, and I come back at 6pm only to see you in the same spot that I left you. Have you taken your nitro and your low-col pills? Maybe that's also the issue.
Of course I moved. I fed the cats, went to the toilet, and I made lunch. And was it today that I am supposed to take my low-col pills? I'm constipated. I had noodles for lunch. Oh look at that on the TV!
(Fuck, this woman needs help. She's stringing random words together, and she needs to get out of this fucking HOUSE!!!)
I have put up with her singing, I have put up with her monologs while *I* am trying to tell her that there needs to be some "sorting" in this house, I have put up with her sudden giggling, her thowing things at the TV when she sees corrupt officials; she walks in a straight line, but tell her to come back and she will get lost. This woman is a fucking nutcase!!! And she claims to be my mother?!
My brother has given up on her, he comes to this house when he knows when she is out, for he just does not want to get involved with her mad rantings. I am almost convinced that she has early onset of altzheimers, however I know this is not the case because how can you "lose" what you never had in the first place: sanity.
The wench-mum is a fucking nutcase!
She sat in her chair reading the newspaper, and suddenly raised her arms in the air, started to wave them ("Blllluuuuuuurrrrr"), and "wiggle".
WTF? Oh she's really lost it now. Fuck!
Ummm.... mum, what are you doing?
I'm wiggling.
Yes, I can see that. But why?
Oh, well my hands are puffy from oedema, and I was just reading here the benefits of "wiggling" as a form of excersise. See? My hands are all puffy.
Huh... Mum, get out of your chair, *walk*, do some physical excersise; the reason why you are "puffy" is probably because you have really bad flow in your lymphatic system, raising your arms and wiggling in your chair is probably not going to do anything. Plus have you actually *moved* from your chair today? huh? I left this morning at 9am to go to Yoga, and I come back at 6pm only to see you in the same spot that I left you. Have you taken your nitro and your low-col pills? Maybe that's also the issue.
Of course I moved. I fed the cats, went to the toilet, and I made lunch. And was it today that I am supposed to take my low-col pills? I'm constipated. I had noodles for lunch. Oh look at that on the TV!
(Fuck, this woman needs help. She's stringing random words together, and she needs to get out of this fucking HOUSE!!!)
I have put up with her singing, I have put up with her monologs while *I* am trying to tell her that there needs to be some "sorting" in this house, I have put up with her sudden giggling, her thowing things at the TV when she sees corrupt officials; she walks in a straight line, but tell her to come back and she will get lost. This woman is a fucking nutcase!!! And she claims to be my mother?!
My brother has given up on her, he comes to this house when he knows when she is out, for he just does not want to get involved with her mad rantings. I am almost convinced that she has early onset of altzheimers, however I know this is not the case because how can you "lose" what you never had in the first place: sanity.
The wench-mum is a fucking nutcase!
3 O'Clock, Whino'Clock
(Note: Drafted earlier today)
I am sitting in Excelsior cafe while I wait to go see my shrink (yes, I'm not "normal", aparently). The place is packed, the only seat available is in the "smoking" section. I am seated next to a woman in her 20s blowing smoke out of her nostrils, as she sends SMSs to whoever, and a bunch of old biddies talking about how one of their friends died in her sleep last week (apparently at age 82). They too are blowing fumes out of their nostrils.
Poisonous fumes are attacking my left, right, above, and below. They come out of the old biddies' nostrils and into my lungs. How gross!! It's almost as if I drunk some wine, regurgitated it, and made these people drink it.
You are poisoning my lungs!! I'm an asthmatic!!
As soon as there is a seat available in the non-smoking section, I'm going to piss off from this "cancer zone". There is so much smoke here that it's starting to sting my eyes. If I stay here for much longer I'm going to get nicotine-stained eyes.
All around me there are sounds of lighters, *click*, *click*, *click*, *CLICK*. The three old biddies sitting next to me have 10 butts in 2 ashtrays. That's 3 1/3 per biddie! They just shortened their lives by 15.6 minutes each. They can meet their dead friend 15.6 minutes faster -- congratulations! Not long to go! Soon you will be reunited with her in heaven; you can sit together and gossip about nothing, and blow acid-rain clouds from your nostrils.
Shit the biddies are lighting up AGAIN!
No wonder I am forced to drink wine at 3 o'clock (yes I am drinking wine in a cafe, what the heck, I don't care!)
3 O'clock, Wino'clock. 3 O'clock, Whino'clock.
I am sitting in Excelsior cafe while I wait to go see my shrink (yes, I'm not "normal", aparently). The place is packed, the only seat available is in the "smoking" section. I am seated next to a woman in her 20s blowing smoke out of her nostrils, as she sends SMSs to whoever, and a bunch of old biddies talking about how one of their friends died in her sleep last week (apparently at age 82). They too are blowing fumes out of their nostrils.
Poisonous fumes are attacking my left, right, above, and below. They come out of the old biddies' nostrils and into my lungs. How gross!! It's almost as if I drunk some wine, regurgitated it, and made these people drink it.
You are poisoning my lungs!! I'm an asthmatic!!
As soon as there is a seat available in the non-smoking section, I'm going to piss off from this "cancer zone". There is so much smoke here that it's starting to sting my eyes. If I stay here for much longer I'm going to get nicotine-stained eyes.
All around me there are sounds of lighters, *click*, *click*, *click*, *CLICK*. The three old biddies sitting next to me have 10 butts in 2 ashtrays. That's 3 1/3 per biddie! They just shortened their lives by 15.6 minutes each. They can meet their dead friend 15.6 minutes faster -- congratulations! Not long to go! Soon you will be reunited with her in heaven; you can sit together and gossip about nothing, and blow acid-rain clouds from your nostrils.
Shit the biddies are lighting up AGAIN!
No wonder I am forced to drink wine at 3 o'clock (yes I am drinking wine in a cafe, what the heck, I don't care!)
3 O'clock, Wino'clock. 3 O'clock, Whino'clock.
OK, Love Y'All
but I just realised that it's 2:55am, and I need to get my skinny arse to Yoga at 10am -- today..... Oops. Am off to bed now, be good and I will read Ur remarks in less dan 4hrs time.
good nite.
DWR
good nite.
DWR
Friday, January 14, 2005
Love, Love, Love...
These are the opening lines from a song by Ken Hirai, one of my favourite Japanese R&B artists. Love, love, love... indeed.
What the fuck happened to my love life?
Did it get wiped out because I work too much? Did it just disappear when I decided to chose my work over shitty relationships that *just* didn't work? (e.g. dating drug dealers, faggots, and violent, possesive men?
What the fuck is going on?
I am 31, I have been single for 2 years, I have been laid on average once every 6 months. I am like a fucking Grizzly bear that goes into hibernation, wakes up, fucks, and then go off to sleep again!!!
There needs some serious advise and action plan for the DWR... maybe I will go and buy some sex toys this afternoon. Silicone lovers are better than going solo, right?
FUCK!
I can't make love to a dildo?! It's not me! It's not the DWR!! Looking at a dildo will just make me laugh -- those "false" veins all in the wrong anatomical places is enough -- I don't want to fuck a plastic dick with veins in the wrong place, even tho' they are "circumsised"!! They Just Aren't Right!!! Fuck, I really am up shit creek...
Huh.... OK, fly-fishing or "martial" arts? which one? Oh shit!! I forgot boxing!!! Maybe I will take up boxing! Many men are at those sweaty boxing gyms, right? Hot, sweaty men... hmmmm, not a bad idea....
If only I didn't have that FUCKING lump on my pancreas.... I have another 3 days to wait before I have my pancreas tomographied for a "Kodak Moment".... Kodak fucking Moments of my internal organs(?), and I'm only 31... Why me?
I'm ONLY 31!!!! I HAVE SEX WITH FIT, 24YEAR OLDS (ONCE EVERY 6MONTHS), I AM NOT OLD!!! WHY AM I TAKING HOLIDAY PICS OF MY PANCREAS? HUH? I SHOULD BE GETTING LAID, HAVING A GOOD TIME, ALA SEX&THE CITY?! I SHOULD BE SHAFTED LEFT, RIGHT, AND CENTRE, BUT NOOOOOOO THIS WOMAN IS GOING TO BE A VIRGIN AGAIN IN 6MONTHS' TIME AND WILL HAVE TO ORGANISE A "VIRGIN AGAIN" PARTY AND GET LAUGHED AT BY MY FRIENDS WHO WILL JUST SAY:"Never mind, darles, there's next month, right?" WHAT DA FUCKY GOING AAAAN HERE? Y CANT I GET LAID? WOT GOING AAAAN?????
OK, I'm breathing calmy now... I've posted a picture of me + friends on Serenity (hint: I'm not blond, nor am I a bloke. I'm part asian, and part african; easy to spot. First time I reveal myself online. Wow, a bold step!! Well, just in case lump is bad....). If you think you have good advice and the bold step to check out what da DWR looks like, give me an idea of what's going on here (Hot or Not => i.e. am I a DAWG, "5 pinter", "paper bag and I'll fuck ya"? I need to get out more, send photos to online dating, etc?) what I am doing wrong, what am I not doing, and give me some hints to get punany action, I am in need of desparate help. Otherwise I will have cobwebs up my pussy in 6 month's time....
This is not funny anymore -- 6 months and I'm a virgin again? Wot da fuckie?!
HEEEELLLLLLPPPP!!!!!
Maybe I should post a "personals" ads here? "DWR seeking hetrosexual male with big schlong? Well, not that big, as long as he knows how to use his tool and his tongue/fingers, A.O.K."
(Post Script: Oh, on top of all my "issues", my cat, George, is sick again. He's got conjunctivitis from the cold that he contracted as a kitten. He goes for annual vaccinations, but that's not enuf. This is the 3rd time he developed cold-symptoms in his 4 year life..... the only living being that does not take any pills, or is sick, in this household is my other cat, Belle. Bless her, she is sooooo hardy!)
Huh... I need an action plan, milestones, deadlines, and a "Microsoft Project" plan to sort my fuckt up life...
What the fuck happened to my love life?
Did it get wiped out because I work too much? Did it just disappear when I decided to chose my work over shitty relationships that *just* didn't work? (e.g. dating drug dealers, faggots, and violent, possesive men?
What the fuck is going on?
I am 31, I have been single for 2 years, I have been laid on average once every 6 months. I am like a fucking Grizzly bear that goes into hibernation, wakes up, fucks, and then go off to sleep again!!!
There needs some serious advise and action plan for the DWR... maybe I will go and buy some sex toys this afternoon. Silicone lovers are better than going solo, right?
FUCK!
I can't make love to a dildo?! It's not me! It's not the DWR!! Looking at a dildo will just make me laugh -- those "false" veins all in the wrong anatomical places is enough -- I don't want to fuck a plastic dick with veins in the wrong place, even tho' they are "circumsised"!! They Just Aren't Right!!! Fuck, I really am up shit creek...
Huh.... OK, fly-fishing or "martial" arts? which one? Oh shit!! I forgot boxing!!! Maybe I will take up boxing! Many men are at those sweaty boxing gyms, right? Hot, sweaty men... hmmmm, not a bad idea....
If only I didn't have that FUCKING lump on my pancreas.... I have another 3 days to wait before I have my pancreas tomographied for a "Kodak Moment".... Kodak fucking Moments of my internal organs(?), and I'm only 31... Why me?
I'm ONLY 31!!!! I HAVE SEX WITH FIT, 24YEAR OLDS (ONCE EVERY 6MONTHS), I AM NOT OLD!!! WHY AM I TAKING HOLIDAY PICS OF MY PANCREAS? HUH? I SHOULD BE GETTING LAID, HAVING A GOOD TIME, ALA SEX&THE CITY?! I SHOULD BE SHAFTED LEFT, RIGHT, AND CENTRE, BUT NOOOOOOO THIS WOMAN IS GOING TO BE A VIRGIN AGAIN IN 6MONTHS' TIME AND WILL HAVE TO ORGANISE A "VIRGIN AGAIN" PARTY AND GET LAUGHED AT BY MY FRIENDS WHO WILL JUST SAY:"Never mind, darles, there's next month, right?" WHAT DA FUCKY GOING AAAAN HERE? Y CANT I GET LAID? WOT GOING AAAAN?????
OK, I'm breathing calmy now... I've posted a picture of me + friends on Serenity (hint: I'm not blond, nor am I a bloke. I'm part asian, and part african; easy to spot. First time I reveal myself online. Wow, a bold step!! Well, just in case lump is bad....). If you think you have good advice and the bold step to check out what da DWR looks like, give me an idea of what's going on here (Hot or Not => i.e. am I a DAWG, "5 pinter", "paper bag and I'll fuck ya"? I need to get out more, send photos to online dating, etc?) what I am doing wrong, what am I not doing, and give me some hints to get punany action, I am in need of desparate help. Otherwise I will have cobwebs up my pussy in 6 month's time....
This is not funny anymore -- 6 months and I'm a virgin again? Wot da fuckie?!
HEEEELLLLLLPPPP!!!!!
Maybe I should post a "personals" ads here? "DWR seeking hetrosexual male with big schlong? Well, not that big, as long as he knows how to use his tool and his tongue/fingers, A.O.K."
(Post Script: Oh, on top of all my "issues", my cat, George, is sick again. He's got conjunctivitis from the cold that he contracted as a kitten. He goes for annual vaccinations, but that's not enuf. This is the 3rd time he developed cold-symptoms in his 4 year life..... the only living being that does not take any pills, or is sick, in this household is my other cat, Belle. Bless her, she is sooooo hardy!)
Huh... I need an action plan, milestones, deadlines, and a "Microsoft Project" plan to sort my fuckt up life...
Thursday, January 13, 2005
At Last! Found My Kimono!!!
my kimono; I know, shit pic, but what the heck!
Kimonos get handed down from mother to daughter in Japan. Well.... just like all my other belongings that grow legs and go on journey of self discovery, my Kimono, handed down and "maintained" by my mother, was lost for nearly 3 years. I explained to her when the last time I saw it, and that it should be in her possession, etc., and it is *defo* in this house.
Well, today we found my hand made, silk, Kimono, which is more valuable for it's memory and love than the actual silk threads that make up the garment itself.
*My* Kimono.
I will hand this down to my kids (even if they are boys -- hell, cross dressing isn't *that* bad, right?). This Kimono was was handed from my grandma (and my greatmum before that) to my mum, and now to me. Its been thru the Great Kanto Earthquake, the bombings of Tokyo in WWII, the buble Economy -- fuck, this Kimono has seen history! Its my family heirloom. Doesn't matter how much it cost, just the thought of the women in our family guarding this piece of silk garment, just because it's been handed down for generations...
*My* Kimono. (hope the cats don't jump onto it, and make a scratch!!)
So why does the DWR make such a fuss about a simple, silk garment? She is not usually one to maintain "tradition"? Well this Kimono makes me feel like I *belong* somewhere -- for once. I'm African, but I've never been to Africa. I am Japanese, but I don't feel Japanese, because I grew up in Britain. But am I British? No, for I don't have a British passport, only a Japanese one. Do I feel Japanese? No, I call the Japanese "them".... you see, I don't really have a home apart from my "Haafu" heaven where I do whatever I like, and no one can do anything to me coz I'm always the outsider, the foreigner.
Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. But fact: I am different in this country. I'm different wherever I go.
So for now I have something that I can hold onto, call "traditional", and feel like I belong somewhere. *My* Kimono. Mine. For now, till the next generation, who I hope will not have to go thru the identity crisis that I have been living with for the past 31 years.
Sometimes I want to belong somewhere....
Venus In Sagittarius
My sun sign is Libra, a sign associated with relationships. We are the serial monogomists, and the romantics of the zodiac. True. But why am I a serial monogamist with *gaps* -- huge gaps in between my relationships. And why is it that I go from one serial "fuck-buddy" to another (must admit I don't have more than one fuck buddy at a time- that's my rule. Serial Monogamy.) What is going on? Why does the DWR, who is in love with the idea of being in love (again) not even getting LAID?
There is something "funky" going on here.
I have a good friend, C, who is a professional astrologer. I know the place and time of birth so she did my charts for me.
"Great! Your Mars is in Taurus, you are tenacious, hard working, oh, and an ascendant in Capricorn. I bet people see you as hard working but with a dry sense of humour, and oooh, your mercury is in Scorpio -- a sharp thinker . You like to analyse things...."
"Ok, C, what about my love life? Where's that Venus chick in my chart?"
"Ummm.. It's in Sagittarius. You'll either marry late, or you'll marry someone from a foreign land, or both."
"Thanks for that, and what's that other thing over there that you put up on my chart?"
"Oh, your moon's in Pisces. "
"Ok... what does that mean?"
"Venus in Sagittarius, and moon in Pisces -- hmmm.... interesting combination."
"I'm fuckt, aren't I?"
"No, no, that's not always true; it's that you have the moon which governs your feelings in a very sensitive area, whereas venus, which governs your lovelife, is in a fire sign that... um.. is in the part of the zodiac associated with travel."
"Ok, are you telling me that I am a fluffy, dreamy, delicate flower who is committment phobic, and I "travel" or walk away from relationships when it get's too serious? Is this why I have more fuck buddies than boyfriends?"
"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that..."
C's prediction was given a further blow when I accompanied my friend, who had just broken up with her boyfriend, to a fortune teller reading Tarot cards in Causway Bay, HK. Just to keep comradeship I had my cards read too. I asked:"So, when am I going to meet my soulmate?"
She turned her cards, and without hesitation she replied: "seven"
Huh? what do you mean seven?
"Oh, you'll meet the man you'll marry in seven year's time." (which willl make me 37?? WTF??)
Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. By then I will be an old, nutcase, and the only people wanting to marry me are already claiming their pensions at the postoffice, waddling in their zimmer-frames, oxygen tank in tow, and just as not with it as I am!!
"You will marry on foreign soil, or someone different from your country, there is a lot of travel here -- you move around too much and you like it. You love like a gypsy, move from one to another, but never unfaithful; always trusting, but you travel from heart to heart. You love like a gypsy."
Jeez, this woman is making me sound like a sugar-coated slapper! So according to two fortune tellers I am going to marry late, I'm going to marry a foreigner, and I now "fall in love like a gypsy".
What the fuck does "falling in love like a gypsy" mean? Huh? Do gypsies fall in love differently from everyone else? Am I afflicted with the Kantgetlaidvirus? If so, I need treatment -- immediately -- gimme one of your shots to get rid of the Kantgetlaidvirus!! I have gone thru my life (max here) without any action for 1.5 years (yes, I am a workaholic), but I'm in my 30s now -- I've reached my sexual peak!! I am as horney as a 17year-old boy who wanks in toilet cubicles at school 3 times a day coz he needs to let it out!!! (ok, not that bad, but anyway in need of punany action -- at least 4 times a year, please! Not got laid since August, so this is *not* a good sign!)
Ok, let's look at the issue rationally, DWR, what does your weekly routine look like?
Monday: Work, maybe go to Yoga if I finish early
Tuesday: Work, maybe have dinner with friend, C., or go to Yoga
Wednesday: Work, go see therapist at 8:00pm, or have dinner with friend -- either C or T.
Thursday: Work, mabe go to Yoga if I finish early
Friday: Work, maybe go out with the girls, go to work functions, go to University Alumni "drop-in" parties
Saturday: Yoga in the morning, sit at cafe eating Galletes, shopping (books, house trinkets, ets). Quick snacks or dinner with friends.
Sunday: Trekking, or bouldering depending on the weather. Spa twice a month for facial/waxing/massage/manecure/pedicure/etc. Dinner with friends.
(If I am not dining with friends on any of these days, I dine alone avec my little ideas notebook drafting another story for the drunken wench ramblings... I return home and type it up, post, reread, edit, post, reread.... probably about 2 or 3 times? Till I'm semi-satisfied; I will go back to posts right back up to october, and if I'm not happy with something I wrote, I will edit and republish...)
Um.... sorry to tell you, DRW, but I think you work too much. You should engage yourself in more activities where you *meet* more men? I mean, Yoga and Trekking? Only women do this in Japan!! Hell, only *old* women go trekking so unless you become a dyke who loves that "older woman" you are really not going to get any action, are you?
SHIT.
Come to think about it, the only men that I know of in my life within "fucking" distance are my platonic friends (i.e. we are mutually not attracted to each other), gay men, oh, and my yoga teachers. But my yoga teachers are just that; I am there to learn yoga from them, not to look for a potential lover. I have better things to do (like yoga -- hello!?) than check out people's arses!
In that case, I need to take up a hobby that lots of men do. Something like fly-fishing, or building my own mother-board (oh no!! the thought of dating a nerd! no way!), or... chick hunting??
Shit.... I'm doomed. Is it time to my profile on an online dating site... again?
There is something "funky" going on here.
I have a good friend, C, who is a professional astrologer. I know the place and time of birth so she did my charts for me.
"Great! Your Mars is in Taurus, you are tenacious, hard working, oh, and an ascendant in Capricorn. I bet people see you as hard working but with a dry sense of humour, and oooh, your mercury is in Scorpio -- a sharp thinker . You like to analyse things...."
"Ok, C, what about my love life? Where's that Venus chick in my chart?"
"Ummm.. It's in Sagittarius. You'll either marry late, or you'll marry someone from a foreign land, or both."
"Thanks for that, and what's that other thing over there that you put up on my chart?"
"Oh, your moon's in Pisces. "
"Ok... what does that mean?"
"Venus in Sagittarius, and moon in Pisces -- hmmm.... interesting combination."
"I'm fuckt, aren't I?"
"No, no, that's not always true; it's that you have the moon which governs your feelings in a very sensitive area, whereas venus, which governs your lovelife, is in a fire sign that... um.. is in the part of the zodiac associated with travel."
"Ok, are you telling me that I am a fluffy, dreamy, delicate flower who is committment phobic, and I "travel" or walk away from relationships when it get's too serious? Is this why I have more fuck buddies than boyfriends?"
"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that..."
C's prediction was given a further blow when I accompanied my friend, who had just broken up with her boyfriend, to a fortune teller reading Tarot cards in Causway Bay, HK. Just to keep comradeship I had my cards read too. I asked:"So, when am I going to meet my soulmate?"
She turned her cards, and without hesitation she replied: "seven"
Huh? what do you mean seven?
"Oh, you'll meet the man you'll marry in seven year's time." (which willl make me 37?? WTF??)
Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. By then I will be an old, nutcase, and the only people wanting to marry me are already claiming their pensions at the postoffice, waddling in their zimmer-frames, oxygen tank in tow, and just as not with it as I am!!
"You will marry on foreign soil, or someone different from your country, there is a lot of travel here -- you move around too much and you like it. You love like a gypsy, move from one to another, but never unfaithful; always trusting, but you travel from heart to heart. You love like a gypsy."
Jeez, this woman is making me sound like a sugar-coated slapper! So according to two fortune tellers I am going to marry late, I'm going to marry a foreigner, and I now "fall in love like a gypsy".
What the fuck does "falling in love like a gypsy" mean? Huh? Do gypsies fall in love differently from everyone else? Am I afflicted with the Kantgetlaidvirus? If so, I need treatment -- immediately -- gimme one of your shots to get rid of the Kantgetlaidvirus!! I have gone thru my life (max here) without any action for 1.5 years (yes, I am a workaholic), but I'm in my 30s now -- I've reached my sexual peak!! I am as horney as a 17year-old boy who wanks in toilet cubicles at school 3 times a day coz he needs to let it out!!! (ok, not that bad, but anyway in need of punany action -- at least 4 times a year, please! Not got laid since August, so this is *not* a good sign!)
Ok, let's look at the issue rationally, DWR, what does your weekly routine look like?
Monday: Work, maybe go to Yoga if I finish early
Tuesday: Work, maybe have dinner with friend, C., or go to Yoga
Wednesday: Work, go see therapist at 8:00pm, or have dinner with friend -- either C or T.
Thursday: Work, mabe go to Yoga if I finish early
Friday: Work, maybe go out with the girls, go to work functions, go to University Alumni "drop-in" parties
Saturday: Yoga in the morning, sit at cafe eating Galletes, shopping (books, house trinkets, ets). Quick snacks or dinner with friends.
Sunday: Trekking, or bouldering depending on the weather. Spa twice a month for facial/waxing/massage/manecure/pedicure/etc. Dinner with friends.
(If I am not dining with friends on any of these days, I dine alone avec my little ideas notebook drafting another story for the drunken wench ramblings... I return home and type it up, post, reread, edit, post, reread.... probably about 2 or 3 times? Till I'm semi-satisfied; I will go back to posts right back up to october, and if I'm not happy with something I wrote, I will edit and republish...)
Um.... sorry to tell you, DRW, but I think you work too much. You should engage yourself in more activities where you *meet* more men? I mean, Yoga and Trekking? Only women do this in Japan!! Hell, only *old* women go trekking so unless you become a dyke who loves that "older woman" you are really not going to get any action, are you?
SHIT.
Come to think about it, the only men that I know of in my life within "fucking" distance are my platonic friends (i.e. we are mutually not attracted to each other), gay men, oh, and my yoga teachers. But my yoga teachers are just that; I am there to learn yoga from them, not to look for a potential lover. I have better things to do (like yoga -- hello!?) than check out people's arses!
In that case, I need to take up a hobby that lots of men do. Something like fly-fishing, or building my own mother-board (oh no!! the thought of dating a nerd! no way!), or... chick hunting??
Shit.... I'm doomed. Is it time to my profile on an online dating site... again?
Fucking Great!!!
I just got a call from my biggest boss, the head (VP) of the "Consumer Business" Section.... He wants me to take my "hole" to the most famously disasterous project in this entire company... In some ways, it's my fault. I spoke to him several weeks back suggesting that they look carefully at dangerous goods logistics if they are going to be rolling out SLAPPER in Europe for this crappy, but huge Japanese company. And now he's gone off and sold the bloody idea to them; the stupid fuckers are interested, and willing to pay -- only now, after 2 years of doing this mega, but disasterous project!!! Two years ago I warned the foot soldiers who came to me for advice and told them they need to do a) b) c) for dangerous goods and product safety. At the time they didn't listen to me, nor did they report to their managers about my advice, so it never got done. Now that I went to the VP for a "little chat" (to show some initiative) telling him "hey, it's OK handling dangerous goods logistics the way you are doing now, coz we are corrupt in Asia, but if you do it in Europe, you are going to have to deal with some legal "issues"; regulatory compliance is strict there they have European regulations e.g ADR, ADNR, RID, EINECS and all that shite, coz they are VERY 'green' in Europe ". He's now decided to drag me to Fahlujia with no fire cover, and with incompetent idiots as my "foot soldiers".
Fuck.
I am the only one in this company (ironic isn't it?) that knows anything about product integrity, regulatory compliance for cross boarder logistics of dangerous chemicals, Chemical Inventory Control (how to handle it in SLAPPER) for various countries, environmental economics/sustainable development, how to structure the SLAPPER EH&S database, set up infrastructure, and output control according to country-based, and international regulatory requirements. If only those EEEEDDDIIIOOOTS listened to my prophesy 2 years ago, this project would not be in the state that it is right now. Why are they bringing me in now? It's gone beyond "risk management" -- it's "disaster control"!!
I'M TRYING TO CHANGE JOBS! I HAVE A FUCKING LUMP ON MY PANCREAS, AND U WANT ME TO GO INTO THE MOST DANGEROUS PLACE ON PLANET-CONSULTING???
I'm really screwed.... I have a meeting with the VP tomorrow to discuss my "role". He wants me to go to a war zone and sort this shit out, when I *told* those stupid feckers that they are not going about it the right way, and that they need to do A,B,C. Do they listen to me? No, of course not. I'm a woman, a wench, a drunken one. A drunken fucking wench would know shit, right? Dunno what she on about, ranting and raving about IATA and IMDG. Nah, we'll just tell the client that we can do it (eventually, somehow) but for now, do it outside SLAPPER. SLAPPER doesn't have the capability to handle these things.
Fuck off!! I know what I am talking about!!!!
Right, anyway, I better be off to buy a HUGE tub of vasceline, get a handful of sand, and mix it in *real* good, coz I'm going to need it when I'm out in Fahlujia....
Fuck.
I am the only one in this company (ironic isn't it?) that knows anything about product integrity, regulatory compliance for cross boarder logistics of dangerous chemicals, Chemical Inventory Control (how to handle it in SLAPPER) for various countries, environmental economics/sustainable development, how to structure the SLAPPER EH&S database, set up infrastructure, and output control according to country-based, and international regulatory requirements. If only those EEEEDDDIIIOOOTS listened to my prophesy 2 years ago, this project would not be in the state that it is right now. Why are they bringing me in now? It's gone beyond "risk management" -- it's "disaster control"!!
I'M TRYING TO CHANGE JOBS! I HAVE A FUCKING LUMP ON MY PANCREAS, AND U WANT ME TO GO INTO THE MOST DANGEROUS PLACE ON PLANET-CONSULTING???
I'm really screwed.... I have a meeting with the VP tomorrow to discuss my "role". He wants me to go to a war zone and sort this shit out, when I *told* those stupid feckers that they are not going about it the right way, and that they need to do A,B,C. Do they listen to me? No, of course not. I'm a woman, a wench, a drunken one. A drunken fucking wench would know shit, right? Dunno what she on about, ranting and raving about IATA and IMDG. Nah, we'll just tell the client that we can do it (eventually, somehow) but for now, do it outside SLAPPER. SLAPPER doesn't have the capability to handle these things.
Fuck off!! I know what I am talking about!!!!
Right, anyway, I better be off to buy a HUGE tub of vasceline, get a handful of sand, and mix it in *real* good, coz I'm going to need it when I'm out in Fahlujia....
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
NEET (Pronounced NEETO by the Japanese)
NEET stands for "Not in Employment, Education, or Training". So who are the NEETs? Are they old pensioners? Are they preschool children? Or Are they stay-at-home housewifes? No. They are young people of "employable age" (some as old as 35!!) who have chosen unemployment as a career path. Why? Well I'm not sure. There are many NEETs all over the world, and in each country there are various social reasons why there are NEETs, but the Japanese sociologist, Reiko Kobayashi, classifies NEETs into four categories:
1) The Social "Rebels". The type who "Live for the moment", and can't be arsed to get a job.
2) The Anti-Socials. The nerdy type who just cannot relate to normal human beings, sit at home/in their rooms all day - surfing the web, etc., and can't be arsed to get a job.
3) The Procrastinators. The type that "think" about getting a job, "think" about writing that resume, but can't be arsed to get a job.
4) The "I'm too good for this job"ers. The type that get a job, think that they're too good for their position, quit after 3 days, and move on from one job to the other, to the other, and to another, but in the meantime have huuuuuuge breaks in between, coz they can't be arsed to get a job unless it pays them 10million yen per annum (US$100,000), gives them 50days annual paid holiday, and have to work only 3hours a day. From home. (for this type of NEETs I would suggest that they become French nationals, and work for their public sector.)
And Y can't/don't they want to get jobs? Well, Kobayashi reckons that 1) companies are not hiring due to the ailing economy, and 2) there is a misallignment between what the companies want, and what the NEETs want from the companies resulting in apathy by those that can potentially enter the job market.
Basically the both of them need to have a bit of a reality check, especially the NEETs who are not improving their skills, or even "selling" what skills they have to gain some more experience than in their static career as a seasoned parasite off their parents. (and most of them *do* reside with their parents! or friends with a semi-job)
The Ministry of Wealth, thru Labour and Healthcuts recently realised that their coffers that fund our pensions, healthcare, and other benefits to those that need it are really looking sick (um, is probably as sick as this planet is right now; just look at the weather reports, and you will see), and they need to do something about the unemployement rates, especially the 520,000 NEETs in the country today. Other labour campaigners put the estimate at nearly 680,000 of these career unemployed -- and in a country where the statistics bureau estimate that 20% of the 120million (approx) people will be over the age of 65years (with an average life expectancy of around 81.3), and that's excluding the 60 year olds, who will be claiming their hard earned pensions this year? And by 2050 nearly 35% of the population (including me) will be over 65? Do the maths. DWR not only has to pay rent and buy kitty-litter, but also she has to help financially support more than 20% of the population, while putting away money for a private nest egg coz they are going to be cutting pension handouts by the time I'm an old dear. A lot of people from my generation really would *need* the money if they remain childless or remain NEETs....
I don't think that I'm a Conservative person (or at least I hope not!). I am willing to pay high taxes to maintain a strong and healthy social security net for people who need assistance, like the wheelchair warriors. Yeah, sometimes people take time to get a new job, yeah, sometimes people need the money to get some vocational training, or education, to make themselves more attractive to the increasingly dog-eat-dog job market, but to just sit around surfing the net? Hanging around the streets with their mates, playing on the Slot Machines, scamming money off their already aging parents? "Thinking" about writing their resumes -- fuck! *I* will help you write your damned resumes! And to those that *think* they are too good for their jobs? Change the way you think. Every day -- shitty or not -- is an experience that you can take with you to the next job that will *pay* you for what you think you are worth, but even before that, strip yourself naked. Look at yourself in your birthday suit. Are you really that great? Are you really that perfect? Look at your good points, yes, but most of all look at your development needs, for we all have one. I have loads (and don't I know it!!), and so do you. So do you...
Be honest to yourself -- lie to others, fine, that's up to you, (not my issue) but to yourself? There's a word for people who lie to themselves like you: "faulse delusion". Pretend, pretend. And that doesn't hold up in a court of law. Welcome to "Always-Always Land" where reality, social issues, political issues, "issue issues", and taxes hit you hard. Real hard!
As I mentioned previously I don't mind paying my dues; I am happy to support the large number of old aged pensioners (if my high taxes don't support my current lifestyle I just get a better paying job, simple!), for there are people like my mother, my omonis, who worked hard to make me who I am, and to make this country what it is today (I know progress is in someways slow, but there has been a lot). But to ignore the hard work of the previous generations, to take advantages of the great big legal loop holes, to get "mum&dad" to look after you, and to sit around doing fuck all? I know of NEETs who are *older* than me, and have been NEETs for decades; they ask for "pocket money" from their aging parents so that they can surf the web for child pornography?!
WTF!
We have a three tiered "state" pension scheme: 1) Kouseinenkin -- which is subsidised by your company, and the rest gets deducted from your paycheck. You are on this scheme if you are a fulltime employee working for a Pink Elephant, like me. 2) Kokuminenkin -- which you pay up if are selfemployed, or a temp, and 3) Gii-in nenkin -- an honourary "state" pension scheme that is so elitists that only people who are, or have served as, a member of parliament can get it. The amount paid by each of the "pensions" can differ; starting from 60,000yen/month (US$600) to 600,000yen/month (US$6000). Ok, so guess which pension scheme can get the max amount when you start claiming your giro? Yup. The Polititians' Pension Scheme. And do they pay significantly more into their pension fund compared to me?
Nah. (I told you criminals run my country, right?)
Sorry, I digress. So what about this half a million NEETs in my country that do fuck all (regardless of reason). Who supports their life right now? Where do they get their money from? Their 59 year old parents who still provide a roof over their heads. Next year the 59 year olds will be turning 60, asking for their pensions, payed out of my paycheque, which in turn goes to pay for the "lifestlye" of the NEETs...
They are not NEET at all!!!! If I have to reduce my monthly facials to biannual facials? WHOA!! *I* will peddle their lazy areses AND make sure they cough up. I used to love "Never Never Land" too, but now that I'm stuck in "Always Always Land" they better have to go thru the same shite that I go thru. If I have to go thru hell -- well, I'm dragging their NEET arses down with me!!
As for the Ministry of Wealth, thru Labour and Healthcuts? Get your thumb out of your arses, get an act thru parliament 1) to remove your three tiered "pension" structure, make it all fair and square for everyone 2) come up with an action plan to align the NEETs skills and the company's expectations for people who have been NEETs for ages. If you do something about those lazy feckers, all goes smothly, and the NEETs become Suits? ONLY THEN will I have babies. SIX babies to support the next generation!! SIX BABIES!!!! One pensioner => Six future tax payers!
1) The Social "Rebels". The type who "Live for the moment", and can't be arsed to get a job.
2) The Anti-Socials. The nerdy type who just cannot relate to normal human beings, sit at home/in their rooms all day - surfing the web, etc., and can't be arsed to get a job.
3) The Procrastinators. The type that "think" about getting a job, "think" about writing that resume, but can't be arsed to get a job.
4) The "I'm too good for this job"ers. The type that get a job, think that they're too good for their position, quit after 3 days, and move on from one job to the other, to the other, and to another, but in the meantime have huuuuuuge breaks in between, coz they can't be arsed to get a job unless it pays them 10million yen per annum (US$100,000), gives them 50days annual paid holiday, and have to work only 3hours a day. From home. (for this type of NEETs I would suggest that they become French nationals, and work for their public sector.)
And Y can't/don't they want to get jobs? Well, Kobayashi reckons that 1) companies are not hiring due to the ailing economy, and 2) there is a misallignment between what the companies want, and what the NEETs want from the companies resulting in apathy by those that can potentially enter the job market.
Basically the both of them need to have a bit of a reality check, especially the NEETs who are not improving their skills, or even "selling" what skills they have to gain some more experience than in their static career as a seasoned parasite off their parents. (and most of them *do* reside with their parents! or friends with a semi-job)
The Ministry of Wealth, thru Labour and Healthcuts recently realised that their coffers that fund our pensions, healthcare, and other benefits to those that need it are really looking sick (um, is probably as sick as this planet is right now; just look at the weather reports, and you will see), and they need to do something about the unemployement rates, especially the 520,000 NEETs in the country today. Other labour campaigners put the estimate at nearly 680,000 of these career unemployed -- and in a country where the statistics bureau estimate that 20% of the 120million (approx) people will be over the age of 65years (with an average life expectancy of around 81.3), and that's excluding the 60 year olds, who will be claiming their hard earned pensions this year? And by 2050 nearly 35% of the population (including me) will be over 65? Do the maths. DWR not only has to pay rent and buy kitty-litter, but also she has to help financially support more than 20% of the population, while putting away money for a private nest egg coz they are going to be cutting pension handouts by the time I'm an old dear. A lot of people from my generation really would *need* the money if they remain childless or remain NEETs....
I don't think that I'm a Conservative person (or at least I hope not!). I am willing to pay high taxes to maintain a strong and healthy social security net for people who need assistance, like the wheelchair warriors. Yeah, sometimes people take time to get a new job, yeah, sometimes people need the money to get some vocational training, or education, to make themselves more attractive to the increasingly dog-eat-dog job market, but to just sit around surfing the net? Hanging around the streets with their mates, playing on the Slot Machines, scamming money off their already aging parents? "Thinking" about writing their resumes -- fuck! *I* will help you write your damned resumes! And to those that *think* they are too good for their jobs? Change the way you think. Every day -- shitty or not -- is an experience that you can take with you to the next job that will *pay* you for what you think you are worth, but even before that, strip yourself naked. Look at yourself in your birthday suit. Are you really that great? Are you really that perfect? Look at your good points, yes, but most of all look at your development needs, for we all have one. I have loads (and don't I know it!!), and so do you. So do you...
Be honest to yourself -- lie to others, fine, that's up to you, (not my issue) but to yourself? There's a word for people who lie to themselves like you: "faulse delusion". Pretend, pretend. And that doesn't hold up in a court of law. Welcome to "Always-Always Land" where reality, social issues, political issues, "issue issues", and taxes hit you hard. Real hard!
As I mentioned previously I don't mind paying my dues; I am happy to support the large number of old aged pensioners (if my high taxes don't support my current lifestyle I just get a better paying job, simple!), for there are people like my mother, my omonis, who worked hard to make me who I am, and to make this country what it is today (I know progress is in someways slow, but there has been a lot). But to ignore the hard work of the previous generations, to take advantages of the great big legal loop holes, to get "mum&dad" to look after you, and to sit around doing fuck all? I know of NEETs who are *older* than me, and have been NEETs for decades; they ask for "pocket money" from their aging parents so that they can surf the web for child pornography?!
WTF!
We have a three tiered "state" pension scheme: 1) Kouseinenkin -- which is subsidised by your company, and the rest gets deducted from your paycheck. You are on this scheme if you are a fulltime employee working for a Pink Elephant, like me. 2) Kokuminenkin -- which you pay up if are selfemployed, or a temp, and 3) Gii-in nenkin -- an honourary "state" pension scheme that is so elitists that only people who are, or have served as, a member of parliament can get it. The amount paid by each of the "pensions" can differ; starting from 60,000yen/month (US$600) to 600,000yen/month (US$6000). Ok, so guess which pension scheme can get the max amount when you start claiming your giro? Yup. The Polititians' Pension Scheme. And do they pay significantly more into their pension fund compared to me?
Nah. (I told you criminals run my country, right?)
Sorry, I digress. So what about this half a million NEETs in my country that do fuck all (regardless of reason). Who supports their life right now? Where do they get their money from? Their 59 year old parents who still provide a roof over their heads. Next year the 59 year olds will be turning 60, asking for their pensions, payed out of my paycheque, which in turn goes to pay for the "lifestlye" of the NEETs...
They are not NEET at all!!!! If I have to reduce my monthly facials to biannual facials? WHOA!! *I* will peddle their lazy areses AND make sure they cough up. I used to love "Never Never Land" too, but now that I'm stuck in "Always Always Land" they better have to go thru the same shite that I go thru. If I have to go thru hell -- well, I'm dragging their NEET arses down with me!!
As for the Ministry of Wealth, thru Labour and Healthcuts? Get your thumb out of your arses, get an act thru parliament 1) to remove your three tiered "pension" structure, make it all fair and square for everyone 2) come up with an action plan to align the NEETs skills and the company's expectations for people who have been NEETs for ages. If you do something about those lazy feckers, all goes smothly, and the NEETs become Suits? ONLY THEN will I have babies. SIX babies to support the next generation!! SIX BABIES!!!! One pensioner => Six future tax payers!
Is that a done deal or what? How about that -- I'll be creating 6 new tax payers for one pension recepient... that's not a bad trade off, right?
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
One of those days...
Tuesday, Jan. 11: DWR's To Do's List for Suit Role:
1) Create new file structure, set search criteria, set user access levels for LifeScience documentation that was migrated to new KM server. Also set version control and consolidate some of the redundant files. (Deadline: today)
2) Begin benchmarking studies for XXX, a CRM software giant that has the biggest market share in the pharmaceutical industry. Also look at annual reports for top 5 pharma over the past 5 years. (Deadline: tomorrow)
3) Work on Clinical Trial Management PoV deck -- Section 1: Industry trends, drivers, and issues. (Deadline: first draft to show Director, T, friday)
4) File industry newspaper into the binder. (Deadline: everyday)
5) Cheer up. (Deadline: forever)
Today I am feeling on the more empty side of full. I lost o's snail mail (including his address on the envelope so I can't send him a thank you letter), someone committed suicide by jumping in front of the train at Denenchofu station on the Toyoko Line (my commuter route), I got a blanket Spam-like email from a friend with a picture and a "name" -- forwarded from a hospital in Phuket that said:"Does anyone know who this boy is, he survived the tsunami, he is about 2 years old, and we don't know where his family is...". She asked us to use our network of information, etc. to help this little boy. This is the third such email I have received this month, and each time I get them the words "human trafficking, be careful" run thru my head.
I hit "reply all" and gave my friends some of the resources that I had pulled out while trying to locate my brother, warning everyone to *not* disclose the name of children, especially if accompanied by a photograph, coz it's giving too much information to human traffickers who will do anything, e.g. pretend that they are relatives, to exploit children. Moments later, I received an email from a stranger who was one of the victims of my "reply all" email saying:"oh, I believe that the child is Swedish and has found it's parent. See==>" I feel like a fool coz I didn't check my work email yesterday. It was a public holiday, but I think the least that my friend could do was to send us all an email saying:"Thank you for your support!! Look, the boy found his family!! Hurray!"
Some of us are not in Sweden, and do not follow the Swedish press. I try my hardest to keep up with news from all over the world, but I can't even keep up with the *regional* news. Now I look like a fool to (probably) 30 odd strangers who are thinking, why is this woman Spamming me about old news.
Oh, and this morning I've had to tell my boss about my "lump". Director A, a qualified pharmacist, knew the score when I explained to him; he understands the full implications if I have any complications during my procedure to "picture" my pancreas. A very soft spoken gentleman, Director A knows all about the shit I had to go thru with BwanaK in Sri Lanka, and now this? He told me to take as much time off if I needed it.
I have not seen one of the admin staff since before Christmas; she suffers from clinical depression, and has been in and out of hospital several times. One of my colleagues who was back in the office after being at the client's site on a three month project asked me if I had seen her. No. I have not seen her for ages; I've even had to take on some of her role while she has been away, for she is my big boss, Principal K's, personal assisstant. Well, that's what happens when you have a 3 person department, right? Not that I *do* much, just simple filing of daily industry newspapers which I pick up from her desk.
No taking calls, No scheduling, Neither more, nor less.
I'm not a secretary, I have other things to do, and they don't pay me enough to be a consultant AND be a secretary. They should know that by now. But I feel sorry for the other secretary tho' coz she's been having to fill in for the absent woman. I hope that when our depressed secretary returns she does not feel as if everyone has taken her job, and now she has no place in the office.
That would send her straight back to the funny farm.
I'm writing this in my little book over lunch; it's only 12:45pm and I still have half the day left. Somehow I just don't see it getting much better. I got a call from a friend just before lunch. She was having an even shittier day than me so I am going to have dinner with her this evening to cheer her up.
The only consolation so far today is that they are playing cool, happy music at Caspita, where I am having lunch. Lemon sole in white wine sauce and seasonal vegitables. I'm not that humgry so I'm just going to leave the "seasoned" vegitables. Since when did broccoli become "seasonable" in winter.... I wonder.
Suppose I better get back to the office....
1) Create new file structure, set search criteria, set user access levels for LifeScience documentation that was migrated to new KM server. Also set version control and consolidate some of the redundant files. (Deadline: today)
2) Begin benchmarking studies for XXX, a CRM software giant that has the biggest market share in the pharmaceutical industry. Also look at annual reports for top 5 pharma over the past 5 years. (Deadline: tomorrow)
3) Work on Clinical Trial Management PoV deck -- Section 1: Industry trends, drivers, and issues. (Deadline: first draft to show Director, T, friday)
4) File industry newspaper into the binder. (Deadline: everyday)
5) Cheer up. (Deadline: forever)
Today I am feeling on the more empty side of full. I lost o's snail mail (including his address on the envelope so I can't send him a thank you letter), someone committed suicide by jumping in front of the train at Denenchofu station on the Toyoko Line (my commuter route), I got a blanket Spam-like email from a friend with a picture and a "name" -- forwarded from a hospital in Phuket that said:"Does anyone know who this boy is, he survived the tsunami, he is about 2 years old, and we don't know where his family is...". She asked us to use our network of information, etc. to help this little boy. This is the third such email I have received this month, and each time I get them the words "human trafficking, be careful" run thru my head.
I hit "reply all" and gave my friends some of the resources that I had pulled out while trying to locate my brother, warning everyone to *not* disclose the name of children, especially if accompanied by a photograph, coz it's giving too much information to human traffickers who will do anything, e.g. pretend that they are relatives, to exploit children. Moments later, I received an email from a stranger who was one of the victims of my "reply all" email saying:"oh, I believe that the child is Swedish and has found it's parent. See==>" I feel like a fool coz I didn't check my work email yesterday. It was a public holiday, but I think the least that my friend could do was to send us all an email saying:"Thank you for your support!! Look, the boy found his family!! Hurray!"
Some of us are not in Sweden, and do not follow the Swedish press. I try my hardest to keep up with news from all over the world, but I can't even keep up with the *regional* news. Now I look like a fool to (probably) 30 odd strangers who are thinking, why is this woman Spamming me about old news.
Oh, and this morning I've had to tell my boss about my "lump". Director A, a qualified pharmacist, knew the score when I explained to him; he understands the full implications if I have any complications during my procedure to "picture" my pancreas. A very soft spoken gentleman, Director A knows all about the shit I had to go thru with BwanaK in Sri Lanka, and now this? He told me to take as much time off if I needed it.
I have not seen one of the admin staff since before Christmas; she suffers from clinical depression, and has been in and out of hospital several times. One of my colleagues who was back in the office after being at the client's site on a three month project asked me if I had seen her. No. I have not seen her for ages; I've even had to take on some of her role while she has been away, for she is my big boss, Principal K's, personal assisstant. Well, that's what happens when you have a 3 person department, right? Not that I *do* much, just simple filing of daily industry newspapers which I pick up from her desk.
No taking calls, No scheduling, Neither more, nor less.
I'm not a secretary, I have other things to do, and they don't pay me enough to be a consultant AND be a secretary. They should know that by now. But I feel sorry for the other secretary tho' coz she's been having to fill in for the absent woman. I hope that when our depressed secretary returns she does not feel as if everyone has taken her job, and now she has no place in the office.
That would send her straight back to the funny farm.
I'm writing this in my little book over lunch; it's only 12:45pm and I still have half the day left. Somehow I just don't see it getting much better. I got a call from a friend just before lunch. She was having an even shittier day than me so I am going to have dinner with her this evening to cheer her up.
The only consolation so far today is that they are playing cool, happy music at Caspita, where I am having lunch. Lemon sole in white wine sauce and seasonal vegitables. I'm not that humgry so I'm just going to leave the "seasoned" vegitables. Since when did broccoli become "seasonable" in winter.... I wonder.
Suppose I better get back to the office....
Monday, January 10, 2005
Research Scientists Are on Drugs
If not how can they come up with a name for a virus that they discovered NOROVIRUS. Umm... if it is a virus, why are you calling it Norovirus. It either is, or it isn't. Norovirus indeed. Maybe they were having acid flash backs, or ice-induced psychosis when they "heard" the virus having an identity crisis. Who am I? What am I? Am I a virus? Am I alive? Or am I an inanimate string of DNA...
So anyway, this virus with an identity-crisis is killing old people in nursing homes all over the country right now. They didn't know who was topping the grannies at first, but now we know who it is.
Norovirus.
If I was a virus I would *not* want to be given a name by some Shabu addict who's been sitting awake for the past 52hrs coz they were looking for me.
Right, in keeping with my spirit of *not breaking* my new year's resolution to go to bed early, and not blog late at night, I am going to make a visit to my friends the Benzodiazepines, a lovely couple, in a "de-facto" relationship. Mr. Benzalin (10mgs) and Miss Loramet (1mg) will help the DWR to enter the world of unconsciousness, I mean sleep. If I hurry now, I will probably be out by 12:26.
So anyway, this virus with an identity-crisis is killing old people in nursing homes all over the country right now. They didn't know who was topping the grannies at first, but now we know who it is.
Norovirus.
If I was a virus I would *not* want to be given a name by some Shabu addict who's been sitting awake for the past 52hrs coz they were looking for me.
Right, in keeping with my spirit of *not breaking* my new year's resolution to go to bed early, and not blog late at night, I am going to make a visit to my friends the Benzodiazepines, a lovely couple, in a "de-facto" relationship. Mr. Benzalin (10mgs) and Miss Loramet (1mg) will help the DWR to enter the world of unconsciousness, I mean sleep. If I hurry now, I will probably be out by 12:26.
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