My boy is a J-giant. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to find a Japanese man who wears bigger jeans than I do. The man is built because he’s a Pro-American Football player in Tokyo, which when you think about it really shouldn’t carry that much weight. But I still love to boast about it, regardless of the fact that I have never even seen an American Football game, even on TV and I still don't know what colour his team is. He thinks that I’ll love him more if I actually see him play a game.
Ishi is probably the most un-Japanese Japanese man I have met. He doesn’t have a shy bone in his body (unlike me). Last night at Andrew’s Sayonara party he gave me a quick rundown of his day (that’s me with the incredibly goofy laugh in the background but I couldn’t help it, he was too cute):
I broke an unwritten rule the other day when I suggested that he get English lessons (because I am starting Japanese). His response: “I’m not want to”. And you can’t argue with that. This coming from a man who told me Star Wars was his English teacher. Which actually makes perfect sense when you listen to him speak. His sentence structures resemble Yoda’s, maybe lacking the wisdom.
Anyway, he’ll probably be co-starring in my blog from now on, so soon you’ll get sick of hearing about him. His name is Ishi, stage name is Rock and he’s a beautiful man and my own personal rockstar.
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