TheManInJapan

So I don’t really remember much of anything from week 8 because again it was filled with brutal studying.  However, as week 9 dawned, I was assigned a seat (we get new seats every week) next to the other guy who’s lived in America.  His name is Albert and he’s the same age as my older brother…27.  In general, I just assumed that we would get along because I’ve found that people from the same country or at least speak the same native language are more likely to get along.  While I’m not wrong in this, I think I scare the shit out of Albert, most likely because every now and then I start saying “Hey hey hey,” and demand that he wears a bright red sweater.  Mind you, this Albert is from Taiwan and is no where near fat nor African American.  (If you don’t get the reference, look up Fat Albert and suffer in shame.)  So after another hardcore test that was draining to say the least, we have to come up with a skit.  By this point I wanted nothing to do with the Japanese language for the day, but seeing as how Albert was my partner, I had to capitalize on our shared knowledge base.  We ended up doing a skit where I was Jesus Christ, 日本語で、イエスキリスト, and I happened to have lost my student ID.  The skit ended the only way it should, with me performing a miracle and Albert praising me like a Southern Baptist.  Yeah. Anytime  you get to yell　[ ミラクルをしなくちゃいけまあせん！] (editor’s note: roughly “We need a miracle!”) while standing on a chair raising  your hands to the ceiling while a man verging on thirty pretends you’re the messiah and starts dancing is pretty much the ideal way to be as awesome as me. That’s also why I said heretical.  Suddenly, everybody knows that when you’re partners with Katie *****, you are doomed to have to do something ridiculous.  I relish in the glory.

So a few days later, we got our health exam papers back.  You know, the one where I had to pee in a cup over a 和式, and got to make jokes about 勃起。 In any case, when I whip out the results, I have no idea what I’m looking at.  I know in general what everything means, but I don’t know whether it’s good or bad until I find the explanation sheet (also in Japanese).  So I start translating this sheet, and the first thing it tells me is that I’m corpulent.  Yes, that exact translation.  It tells me that I need to start working out everyday and to control my eating habits.  It tells me I need to build more muscle.  It also tells me that my blood pressure is low, and I should get a cardio exam sometime.  There are a number things wrong with this analysis.  FIRST of all, while I am on the heavier side, corpulent I am not.  I even see Japanese heavier than me on a daily basis, especially when I walk to Mister Donut. Second of all, the reason I am so heavy is because I did weight training up until I got out of high school.  Apparently I’m not muscular enough?  I don’t know, what do you think Caitlin’s mom?  (Recently Caitlin and I discussed how her mom thought I was beefy XD).  Also, my blood pressure is low because I have a heart disease, one the doctors in question know about.  So I’m wondering, in all sincerity, whether these mass Japanese health exams are just a bunch of bullshit?  I considered asking one of my potential language exchange partners (all men over 35 who I have made the executive decision not to meet) about this.  I don’t want to be rude, but I feel like these results were based on something other than anatomical science.

So that leads to my final story, and a good one it is.  On the day I pretended to be Jesus, I went searching for coats in the afternoon.  I wish I could say I found one, but I did not.  Instead I found mormon missionaries.  They were quite pleased to meet me, and in general, I tend to be cordial towards strangers, so we ended up talking until the sun went down.  They invited me to a game night on Friday, and I figured why the hell not?  I have no plans, and I certainly have no friends.  What’s the worst that could happen?  So I went on Friday and I walked into a large chapel with about seven dudes in suits and three women dressed in sweaters, skirts, and dresses.  I, being the bro that I’ve become, was dressed in pants that don’t fit me, a t-shirt with holes in it, and a hoodie.  I knew then that something was about to go down and it did.  We played Cops and Robbers.  It was not just a simple game of “oh lol I found you, tag you silly robber.”  No.  It was more like, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, AVOID FLYING ASIAN MORMONS, and WATCH OUT FOR THAT WHITE GUY WHO IS MOST CERTAINLY GOING TO BODY SLAM YOU INTO A PARKING METER.  Shit got intense.  I literally saw a man jump out of a window, Harry Potter scarf flowing behind him like a nyan cat rainbow, and hit the ground running at full speed, just to jump again and mid-air tackle a tall blonde guy trying to jump a fence.  When Mormons go at it, they go at it hard.  I was aroused.  In any case, afterwards we were all battered and bruised.  I was even bleeding.  That’s how you know game night went well.  As we chatted I found out that they too were all older than me.  Everyone was in their late 20s.  I can’t imagine where everybody gets the energy from in Japan.  They invited me back next week, and I dare say that if nothing comes up, I totally will.  I don’t know how they’ll top this week though.

So there you have it.  I may not have a good time all the time, but when I do, I have a good time with batshit Mormons.
Until next I write, have a lovely lovely December.
Katie *****