Monday, September 15, 2008

sunday bloody sunday

Here again at Seattle’s Best in Tenjin using internet and dreaming of the day when I can communicate like a modern girl (i.e. when I get internet at my apt AND a keitai). I’m meeting Paul and Sam for Mexican food (should be interesting—I have the fattest craving) in about a half hour, and it’s taking all of my self-control not to eat a green tea muffin at this coffee shop. They warm them and everything!
Yesterday I went to a birthday party for an adorable seven-year-old child I'd never met, whose father was the brother of a fellow I’d met just once. Paul brought me, but needless to say, there were a lot of new faces. The birthday boy Louis has Down’s, which I wasn’t expecting, and it was a bit emotional for me at first because of Rosemary. Rosemary is my aunt who died last year, and she also had Down’s...I started to get a little misty, but I didn’t say anything, because there’s a time and a place. I did like that Paul didn't “warn” me about it, like Down’s is something you need to prepare people to come in contact with.
It was really nice to go to someone’s house and hang out like a normal person, although the crowd was still not quite like home. There was a Scotsman, a few Australians, an Englishman, a Chinese professional badminton player, and an American who wasn’t really helping my image.
I got the third degree both from the womenfolk and the men, separately, as if they were making a conscious effort to prolong my anxiety. All the other “adults” were couples, and I came with the entire group’s honorary younger brother, so it was to be expected, and they were all very nice. Well, maybe except when one fellow got a little drunk and started hounding me about how Americans don’t know about the world. His triumph came when I could not articulate Papua New Guinea’s geographical location. Satisfied by reinforcing the generalizations he’s come to love, he went back to the men’s table to discuss the new Lexus coupe and the appropriate number of fingers to shove up a woman’s ass. He actually was a cool guy, but I couldn’t help but be disappointed by the assumption that I’m “one of those Americans.” After the birthday party chilled out (maybe 12 am), my favorite Aussie Jay and his wife were up for some karaoke, so the four of us went. The following are the only pictures I have of the entire day’s events:

paul y yo

paul singing a u2 song that someone accidentally punched in

so hilarious... jay singing his heart out while his wife sleeps

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