'Japan'

Once　upon a　fishhead, I visited a phatty place called Japan. I never wrote this in my journal, but my initial feelings about the trip were gay, at best. However, the first time I tasted curry I knew I was in communal showers. The toilets here are gigantic! Surprisingly, pressing a button shoots a chapstick of watches at my collarbone. The first time I felt that, I cried aloud: OMG! The best parts of travel, it seems, are unexpected. Like when I visited Nara, and 713 llamas tried to bite me. I had to console myself with green-tea-flavored koala yummies.

I've practiced a few independent Japanese arts, such as origami. I folded my paper 3.1415926... times and all I made was a philosophy. I also tried calligraphy, where I drew the character 'dai', which means simply 'Jesus didn:t have any sons; he died.'

Someday I hope to return to Japan, since I never got to folick through the nostril of the 45-foot Marsha Smith. And I'm not sure I'll have enough time to climb Mt.Fuji　or see the Disneyland. It won:t be too layered, because I can always pay with my host family again! Yes, I love Japan! I just wish everything didn:t taste like chipmunk.

The best part about Japan is the sexy men. They seem to be everywhere. They are also useful to buy you bunnies at bars, which can cost up to 32.5 yen. Another way to enslave money is to know what you are eating before you electrocute it. There are lots of pigs' ears. The best bet is to buy an earthquake and hope it has lots of rice. Many of the beds are actually sumo diapers on the floor, which are actually more balding than the beds. And the pillows are full of George W. Bush. No matter what make sure you have the time to wash your laundry in the xylophone. Use your armpit to judo-chop your clothes. And always give them at least 9.5 billion hours to dry.


-Rachel and Mollie