Abuse of the Trouser Snake
Another reason why updates have slowed down lately is that I’m kind of going through a rough period right now. Professionally, romantically, financially, a lot of things are tough at the moment. Even if I did have the time to write something…it wouldn’t be very good. I don’t want to just throw up any ‘ol crap here and call it a day.
I can only assume, that during these down periods of my life, I’m paying in Karma Points for something terrible I did before. I used to theorize that it was something I’d done in a past life…like perhaps I was Napoleon, Mussolini, or Rodney Dangerfield (sorry buddy…still no respect…). I realized recently though that I really only have to look at my time in Japan to see my most horrible and heinous crimes against humanity. And no, I’m not talking about passing through a few train gates without paying. I mean, abusing the power the comes with my big black penis.
I’m not even talking about the time when I nearly cock-slapped an old Japanese woman. That’s something that’s just special in its own right. I think the only reason I’m alive now is because I didn’t give the ol’ obasan a chocolate whip-snake to the face. If I had, I imagine The Hand of God would have descended down from the heavens at that very moment, and bug-flicked me right out of existence.
Aside from that incident, there have been other instances of Gaijin Negro Penis Abuse, that I feel that I’m paying for now. Well, they say confession is the first step to absolution, and seeing as there are no immediate confessionals in my immediate area, you all will have to do. Congratulations, you all have now become my personal Catholic priests. Just resist the urge to go out and inappropriately touch any of the altar boys, okay? Let’s leave that to the professionals – Republican senators.
…Geez, it’s still only the introduction of this post, and is there any group of people I *haven’t* managed to piss off yet?
Anyway, forgive me Father(s), for I have sinned.
One day a few years back, I had to go buy some condoms. I ran out of the ones my Mom had gracefully sent, and aside from the embarrassment for asking for more condoms, it wasn’t really a situation where I could wait a week for them to arrive. So I headed to a local drug store to pick some up.
I have ranted in the past about how thin and uncomfortable Japanese condoms are. However, it seems that there is a brand that is actually somewhat wearable. They were recommended to me by an Australian friend, who swore by them. The only problem is that I forgot what the brand name was. At this time, my kanji level wasn’t that good, so even if the box did say “extra wide”, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. I suppose I could have just gone for the brand with the picture of the horse on the box. But, I dunno – there’s just something about having a motherfucking HORSE on the box that intimidates me. I’m afraid that if I do buy them, I’ll open them up only to find a couple of Glad Bags neatly stuffed inside.
So, I really only had one option left – ask a store clerk. And this posed an interesting dilemma – do I ask a guy, or a girl? I didn’t think the girls would have any reason to know the first thing about condom brands. But asking the guy about large condoms – me, big black American dude, asking little petite Japanese dude, if his country makes condoms for people with penises bigger than his. Seemed like it might be pretty insulting. I might as well just whip it out and slap him with it. Okay, I’ll go with the girl then.
Somewhere along the way though, my simple question got a bit corrupted. Instead of just asking about large condoms, I thought perhaps I would ask where they kept the condoms. And better yet, do so in English! The store clerk, being Japanese and naturally not speaking English, wouldn’t understand what I was saying. I could then do the thing where people think if you say it louder and slower, that the person who doesn’t understand your language will somehow develop telepathic powers and magically understand you. I could even start using gestures too. It’s an absolutely awful thing to do, I know.
Anyway, so I find a young, cute female store clerk, my intended victim of my shenanigans. I flag her down, and putting on a mock shy/embarrassed bit, I ask her in English, “Um, excuse me, but would you happen to know where the condoms are?” The girl smiles at me, and says “Yes, right this way” in English. She then leads me to the condom aisle, and, also in English, points out the brands that are made bigger and are better suited for foreign guys.
Um…wow? Boy, did I pick the wrong girl. I guess a couple of hundred other foreign guys had the exact same idea as I did…and beat me to it.
If you think that’s bad, the worst is yet to come.
Back in my teacher days, one day I was asked to keep watch over a classroom while the teacher was out doing…who knows what. Hard narcotics, perhaps. I went out to the classroom and found some ninensei girls chatting inside. Absorbed in conversation, they didn’t really hear me as I approached and entered the classroom. Most of the girls were gathered around one girl, who seemed to be explaining something to them.
Girl: Now, there all sorts of different types. Long and thin, short and stumpy, taut, floppy, etc. And some are cut, while others are not.
…What in blue tarnation is she talking about? At this point, I decide to butt into the conversation.
Me: …What’s taut, floppy, cut, uncut, and so forth?
Girls: *gasping, giggling* Oh no, it’s Az-sensei!
Girl 1: *unabashed* Oh, you know what we were talking about.
Me: …No I don’t. Enlighten me.
Girl 1: Sure you do. It’s something you have, but we girls don’t.
Me: …An appreciation for full-contact sports?
Girl 1: No…you know.
Me: You don’t mean…?
Girls: *shy little giggles*
Me: Oh God, you do.
Girl 1: Like I was saying, there are all sorts of different types!
Me: And, how would you know about that?
Girl 1: *quickly* Onsens.
Girl 1: Yeah, onsens. You know, my father used to take me into the male side when I was younger. I was pretty curious, so I always made observations.
Even if we are to believe her “onsens” story, it’s still an absolutely disturbing thought. That somewhere in Japan, right this very minute, there might be a pre-teen girl standing amidst a throng of naked Japanese men, making observations and thinking stuff like “okay, that must be a short and stumpy one.”
I decided that whatever the outcome, this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to be a part of. I excused myself from the circle and went to sit over at the front of the class. Normally, I would have walked away, but remember, I was supposed to be “protecting” this classroom. The girls continue on with their round-table penis discussion. You know, when I was a 14-year old boy, I don’t remember having intimately detailed discussions about the vagina with my male buddies. Any talk about the vagina was limited to how it was a magical candy-filled wonderland, and how much we wanted to go to it.
Anyway, the discussion continues.
Girl 2: Well, what happens during sex? Don’t they change?
Girl 1: I’m pretty sure they do.
Girl 3: I heard they get a lot bigger!
Girl 4: I heard they don’t get bigger, just harder.
Girl 2: I heard that one too.
Girl 5: Oh, but I’ve heard about the getting bigger thing as well.
Girl 3: Maybe its both? I dunno…
Me: Hey God. If there is a God in Heaven, please, please, PLEASE do *not* let them…
Girl 1: *you can more or less see the lightbulb go off in her head as she turns to me* Hey Az, which one is it? Do they get bigger, or just harder? Or both?
Me: …To hell I send thee, eh?
Girl 2: C’mon, tell us!
Me: Seriously – why do you think I’d ever enter into a conversation about penises with a group of middle school girls. Do I look THAT irresponsible?
Girl 2: It’s not irresponsibility.
Girl 4: Yeah, we’re just curious.
Girl 3: Seriously, it’s just anatomy.
Girl 1: And if you don’t tell us, then we’re proabably going to go out and find out from some other source. Can you even think of all the potential trouble a group of 14-year old girls can get into trying to find out what an erect penis is like?
Me: ……Jesus jumpin’ jehosevat.
Girl 2: So yeah, you tell us, our curiosity is satisfied, end of the story. Simple, isn’t it?
Me: ………Okay, fine.
…I KNOW. Not the best idea. Hindsight is 20/20. Plowing the Titanic through an iceberg field? Not the best idea. Trading Babe Ruth to the Yankees? Not the best idea. Accepting an oral sex maneuver named “The Octopus” from a slutty Japanese girl? Not the best idea. Giving Sarah Silverman her own TV show? Not the best idea.
Me: It depends on the guy.
Girl 1: Huh? What do you mean?
Me: Well, some guys get harder and bigger, while other guys just get harder and the size doesn’t change.
Girls: *in unison* Ohhhhhh I see.
Me: Okay, there. I’ve answered your question. Curiousity over, right? Now can you go back to talking about celebrity gossip or daisies or Hello Kitty or whatever shit you girls talk about?
Girl 2: I see…so some guys get bigger and harder, while some guys just get harder.
Girl 1: Hey Az, which are you?
Me: ….See, there’s a question I am NEVER going to answer.
I may be stupid, but I’m not fundamentally retarded…
Chris Hansen: Allright Az, you’re going to have to come with me. You’re under arrest for inappropriate acts with a Japanese schoolgirl.
Me: What? I never…
Chris Hansen: Our brave young victim has come forth and is speaking out…
Girl 1: Hi Az!
Me: WTF! I never touched that bitch!
Girl 1: Sure you did. You touched me in all my special forbidden places, and then your penis got bigger and harder!
Chris Hansen: I’ve heard enough. Let’s take this sicko away.
So Father, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise to never use the powers bestowed to my penis for evil again. I will only use it for the betterment of Japanese society, and to improve the quality of life for all humanity as a whole.