So...what I want you to think...
...is that my party went a little something like this:
When in reality, it was uber lame. Exhibit A:
Tons o' food. More specifically, tons o' food I don't like. Nay, tons o' food that makes me gag. However I managed to smile...note the Asahi.
Exhibit B:
WTF? I've got nothing. What is this weird attempt at Japanese gift giving? And, for future reference, should pictures surface, at a later date, in which I am smiling at these awkwardly kitsch dolls, again, note the Asahi...directly behind the diaper bundled, apparently armless, Japanese female, though her sex is heavily debatable.
When in reality, it was uber lame. Exhibit A:
Tons o' food. More specifically, tons o' food I don't like. Nay, tons o' food that makes me gag. However I managed to smile...note the Asahi.
Exhibit B:
WTF? I've got nothing. What is this weird attempt at Japanese gift giving? And, for future reference, should pictures surface, at a later date, in which I am smiling at these awkwardly kitsch dolls, again, note the Asahi...directly behind the diaper bundled, apparently armless, Japanese female, though her sex is heavily debatable.
posted by Chishiki Lauren at 11:44 PM
3 Comments:
there looks like a few nice things -
the flowers, pretty.
the sandwiches cut into triangles - thoughtful.
cheap chopsticks... does everyone eat with those? is it easier than doing the dishes? are they like our sporks? do they have english misprints on them like they do here?
ooh, the many wonders of Japan.
A BEERAMID!!
BTW, is the diaper suppose to imply something??
Flowers, pretty indeed. Now dead.
Sandwiches: all of Japan cuts their sandwiches into triangles. I don't know why. I don't mind. I actually prefer it that way.
Chopsticks: I'd say most people have sets of chopsticks, just like silverware, but for cases of a crappy party like this one, there was no need for formality. The cheap ones are dangerous though...splinter paradise. And no writing on them, sorry Chad. Just generic, shitty, wooden hashi.
Eian...I've got no clue on the diaper. And that beearmid is from sophomore year, when I was utterly trashed as Liz's Valentines date. Evidently you have to be obliterated to enjoy the company of Liz. JK. Anywho, I gave you a drunk dial...or maybe you called me. Or maybe I just passed out after blacking out and now, years later, envision having drunk dialed you...as I often do. Hmm, the world may never know.
P.S. When did 'drunk dial' become a verb? And 'im,' as in instant message. The evolution of words.
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