As the S.O. says when she is tired, “she has no power”. Today I have no power. Played golf today, shot…..well lousy. Came home and napped a bit then off to work out.
Work out? Skippy? Most people who know me think the only lifting I do is 12 ounce curls. Actually, I do work out some. I walk on the golf course. And lately I have been going to the Cardio-theater. The gym I go to has DVD players attached to the treadmills and ski machines. It’s great. You can watch TV (Japanese or CNN in English) or you can watch a movie. Its great for me, because if I just run I will quit before I am supposed to. ( Unless it’s a Hash run, in which case I just keep following the herd till I get to the beer). This way I can take my mind off of how bad my arms and legs really feel. And when you drink as much beer as I do, then it is imperative to work out. At least till this evening, where I realize, “I have no power”. Even for my favorite exercise…doing the wild thing. ( THAT’S TIRED).
So trot along down some other streets here in Bloggerville, there’s lots to see.
First, if you want some insight into what makes my mind tick, go over and read Spike’s latest postings. His experience of first being in Tokyo is the same as mine was:
“As much of an outsider as I was, there was something there, I felt like I belonged there. I was an alien and at home at the same time. “
I still feel that way.
He and I seem to be thinking alike on a whole bunch of things. I understand his travails with loving a hooker, but I like to think I would be more prone to follow Expat at Large’s advice much of which is as we say, “written in blood“. Love with a working girl, no way, but then again who knows what would happen if I had not run into the S.O. and complicated(screwed up?) my life. However, I like to think not.
That does not prevent me from being a connoisseur of their wares however, content to sample all the different varietals.
The kind folks over at Mango Sauce have even provided a convenient form to record one’s “tasting” experience. Maybe I can start a new magazine: Bar Girl Spectator.
Speaking of the word connoisseur, it reminds me of a clever quip that I heard almost 20 years ago from a doctor at dinner one night. It was right when the AIDS panic was first beginning and folks were asking him all kinds of questions about what was safe and what was not safe.
“How about blow jobs, Doc? Anything wrong with those?”
His answer was classic, I remember it vividly to this day:
” Well, that depends if you are asking me as a medical man, or as a connoisseur?”
Let me sleep and I ‘ll come up with something serious tomorrow, I promise.
O !
Skippy-san
