Last night I pulled my little black Evo into my parking spot. I tucked my bokken under the strap of my backpack and pulled my Mizuno running jersey straight. Up in the apartment, I settled in to eat the yakisoba takeout I'd picked up and watch the latest Smallville. I know I've made mention of my amusement at my apparent Japan-mania before, but last night just seemed so overtly ridiculous. I'm still not otaku, though, so I feel okay with it.
For anyone that's never met me, I'm tall, blond, blue-eyed, very broad-shouldered, and distinctively all-American. Hell, most people in my family think that using chopsticks requires some sort of mystical skill. My comfort with and appreciation for things Japanese seems just a tiny bit odder when I take that into consideration.
For anyone that's never met me, I'm tall, blond, blue-eyed, very broad-shouldered, and distinctively all-American. Hell, most people in my family think that using chopsticks requires some sort of mystical skill. My comfort with and appreciation for things Japanese seems just a tiny bit odder when I take that into consideration.
and also...
don't ever start waxing on or waxing off. that would be too freaky.