Culinary Delights?

When you think of Japanese food, what do you think of? The usual, sushi, tempura, edamame, teriyaki chicken, and all those other things you might mistake for Thai since they are also offered at most Thai restaurants in Cincinnati. Whew...long sentence...

Well, how about a fascination with mayonnaise? Yes, that's right, mayo; white, creamy and tastes good on a BLT. How about mayo on pizza? In Japan, that's as common as Domino's pizza, Pizza-La, or any other pizza company you can think of operating here. With such flavors and Tuna and Mayo, potatoes and mayo, and of course, corn and mayo, how could you go wrong? The picture isn't the best, but you can see some of the pictures with white stripes crisscrossing on the otherwise delicious looking pies.

And, the fascination with mayo doesn't end with pizza. Before I go on, I must mention that when you buy mayo in Japan, it is not refrigerated. I believe you are supposed to refrigerate after opening, but that is no fun; at least that is what the convenience stores think. Convenience stores are as common as gas stations used to be in America 50 years ago. You can throw stones from one to the next from Kyushu all the way to Hokkaido (southern most island to northern most island). It is there where you can find different types of sandwiches and bento boxes for people on the go. It is also there where you can find things like hot dogs with mayo; bacon, mayo and corn in a flaky crust; mayo and corn pizza; and other mayo-drenched items too numerous to list here. In fact, I find a new mayo-drenched item every time I go to one....all sitting outside of refrigeration on a shelf.

So, the next time you think about your favorite Japanese food, think about mayonnaise. If you have trouble calling a Western creation Japanese, then pizza isn't American at all. Tempura was originally Portuguese and Katsudon was originally Dutch, so it's not the first time the Japanese have adapted Western food into "Japanese" food.

Evil Nomikai....Evil....

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Japanese culture, the concept of the nomikai will be strange....ok....maybe not that strange when put in simple terms. A nomikai literally means drinking engagement. It's that I was at one last night, probably will be attending a birthday party tonight, and have one tomorrow that may seem like a lot to some people.

In Japan as well as most Asian countries, it is important to show your face at such engagements because you are expected to. If you do not show up, you'll find yourself with a lot fewer friends than you had before. The exceptions are obvious: work.... okay....maybe the exception is obvious...it's pretty mandatory to go.

On a side note, the reason I disappeared for a little while is because of a minor injury to my leg last week while playing basketball. The tendons connecting this one arrogant muscle to the bone are in pain. I spent the first night in so much pain, that I couldn't sleep. I went to the doctor and got some drugs, but they weren't that effective. We think they recommend doses for people in the 5 foot range...I'm 192.7 cm not 170!

Anyway, I'm undergoing rehabili (rehabilitation in shortened Japanese form) which is applying sonogram to the injured areas to soften them up i.e. relax and heal. I hope I get back to running and hooping soon, but for the time being, I'm living in constant pain...

So, I've been drinking

As the title details, I have been drinking.

I had enough gin and tonics on an empty stomach to make my 192 centimeter (6' 4") frame and 92 kg (190 lbs.) body get a little tipsy.  Yes, that's right, tipsy; tipsy to the point where I didn't ride my bike home for fear of being pulled over for drunk driving.  I was reminded of the concept by the sign at the ramen shop that said, "Drunk driving Stop."  Ok, Ok, so only stop was in English, but you get the point.

My friend asked a philosophical question today that I thought I would share with anyone who considers their self a reader of my lowly blog.

"What happens to mail after it has past its re-delivery date?"

The whole story goes back a whole week or so ago when we both opened our bank accounts....at the post office.....the post office is a bank.....long story......  Anyhow, they said that they would deliver the bank book by mail directly to our mailbox if we had our names attached.  Well, our landlord didn't do it....and we don't have label makers handy, so it didn't get done.

So, fast-forward a week later; I got my bank book because I set a time online with the post office to drop off my book and was *gasp* actually home to receive it.  To know how little I'm home, I paid $5 in electricity last month.....  I'm never here..... (another long story)

My friend, and neighbor, told them to stick it in the box, but they require a signature.  The expiration date on the package has past (who knew they expired) and when she asked the guy at the post office where the mail went after the expiration date, he didn't know.

So, I've been wondering in my drunken state whether there is a mailbox heaven where undeliverable letters go.  Say those letters to Santa Claus that never make it to the North Pole because....let's face it.....Santa Claus can't live on water!!!  He's St. Nick not the Messiah...(I'm going to hell for that....)

Also, on the way home, I saw something I almost can't write...even in my drunken state....an older woman (70s) pulling up her diapers after pissing in a grate.....something I wish I never saw.....

To make matters worse....(it has no real relation to anything I've said so far), the blanket I bought kind of smells like dog spit....  I hung it outside to air-out and it came back as stinky as ever....

That's all from drunken Bryan...I hope you don't get turned off by this blog entry and come and visit again....