In an effort to never get my book revised ever, I spent the morning picking out my favorite pictures from this month, starting with the gang from last night. After an evening of gorging ourselves on bacon-wrapped grilled food on sticks, I guarantee that every single one of these folks has the same nasty taste in their mouth that I do today.
Welcome to Tokyo, home of pachinko parlor mascots with oversized naughty bits. Honestly, I wasn't even disturbed by the personified green pea until I realized that for no good reason, they gave him a massive unit.
Not a restaurant, I hope.
Max has a Wii game called City Folk, which you make a character and then gradually acquire emotions for him/her as you progress. Until then, the character just walks around like socialite after a Botox party, unable to form facial expressions.
Max's character is now able to express joy, irritation, and anger. Can you imagine if that were how things worked in real life? I would like to express happiness, but I have not yet acquired that expression.
I'm thinking of submitting this expression as an option for the game designers, but I'm not sure what to call it.
This is S, who claims he can't be embarrassed. He clearly as no idea what what it means to say that in front of me.
Maya started ballet classes this month. She loves it because she gets to wear a pretty outfit and twirl.
I love watching my defiant three-year-old follow sensei's instructions. She doesn't follow mine- ever- so this is a completely new experience for me.
When I signed her up, my friend C, whose daughter is also in the class, helped me translate the paperwork that had to be filled out. It was all pretty run of the mill until we got to the space that asked what I was hoping to gain by putting Maya in ballet.
"You mean, like where she's going with this?" I asked.
I had just watched my daughter turn herself into a sideways pretzel and twirl in the wrong direction for an hour. I'm pretty sure she's not headed for a life of dance.
I thought about writing deformed arches, but sensei hadn't been able to get Maya to stand on her toes, so I just wrote an eating disorder.
But the truth is that I have a secret plan to keep her from getting a ballet-related eating disorder. I'm going to teach her to associate ballet class with cake. So when she finishes dancing, she'll always have this urge to fill herself with sweets.
Don't all the top ballerinas follow each rehearsal with a piece of cake the size their head? I thought so. Yep, this plan is foolproof.
After class, Maya and I went to the department store, where she picked out a new pair of shoes for me.
Perhaps I should clarify for her exactly what I do for a living.