billyhoush.com

Too bad the dude is dead.

I’m having a good time these last days even though I still don’t have a ticket. I have been rock-staring it for a while now and it’s hard to manage sometimes.

You have to live or die hard.

I hope I can get tickets back to Canada. I’m planning not to pay rent for next month and just filling the apartment with squatters from under the station bridge. I’ll check once a week to feed them alcohol and cigarettes.

I’ll make you proud dad.

I would like to apologize to the legions of fans following this site as I haven’t updated in a while. I’m trying to get my shit together, planning my trip back to Canada and learning how to properly marinate chicken.

Sometimes I only feel compelled to post when I have other media to tag along like photos, video, or sound. When I forget that one of the main reasons I decided to make a website/blog thingy was to get me writing.

I really love typing away at the keyboard. It’s relaxing and reminds me of one of my first major conquests in life: learning to touch type. I was in grade 9 taking Mr. Giles’ Keyboarding class. It was embarrassing for me at first because I already felt like an outsider loner being a nerdy visible minority in the school and when he would read out our daily accuracy and speed scores at the end of class I would sink behind my monitor in shame.

I was always in the bottom 5 with the other “losers.” Anyways, I kept typing away and keeping at it. I liked using the computer at home so I didn’t stop using proper form and kept practicing. At the end of the semester I was in the top 5 and Mr. Giles took me aside and told me he had never seen such vast improvement in such a short time frame.

I was proud. It was the first time I managed to accomplish one of those things that I sentenced myself to never being able to do and after that I realized that I can pretty much do anything as long as I don’t get incarcerated or killed. So…

Don’t worry. More updates coming soon!

The day after Tokyo, Chico and Keybow popped by and we went to a music festival inside a brewery near my apartment. It was full of Japanese hippies and stoners which was a cool change.

We went to the concert to see GOMA play the didgeridoo. We ended up missing it but I got talk to him. He spoke English and was pretty cool. We talked about a lot of different shit and he highly recommended that I travel to Okinawa and even Bali. I really want to visit these places before I head back to Canada. I just hope I have the dough.

We’ll see.

The fun didn’t stop after I finished performing in Roppongi. I managed to take the subway to Yokohama to visit my friend Ehsan. We got drunk in a park while talking about deep shit and listening to cell phone ring tones.

The most insane thing was in the morning, when we were getting up to leave, I spotted a goddamn watermelon on the ground. It must have been worth at least ¥50,000 ($40 USD). Honestly, finding a fresh watermelon in Japan just doesn’t happen.

I suspected poison at first but Ehsan seemed fine gobbling that shit up for breakfast. It was the best watermelon I had in my life.

Anyways, after that I decided to get back on the train and explore Shibuya and Harajuku some more. Shibuya wasn’t anything new besides lots of people sweating. It wasn’t very happening Saturday morning. Harajuku was awesome. I totally got lost but ended up finding Japanese copies of Vice magazine at some clothing boutique which made up for it.

I took the slow ass train back home which destroyed my soul but I’m glad I had another grandiose adventure.

Last weekend was a mission. I woke up Friday afternoon and took the train to Roppongi, Tokyo to do a 3 minute open mic at the only stand up venue in Japan.

Once again I did an open mic with no prepared material but crap jotted down from the commute. I’m trying to think if it was better or worse then my first open mic but I have learned three things from this last performance: 1. have an idea of what to say 2. stand up straight! 3. more energy monkey OO OO!

I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to stop trying to talk about my life and focus on letting lose my natural monkey mojo. Then the other shit that I want to express will come out. I’m going to keep doing these open mics until I’m comfortable enough to let lose the insanity. I can’t stop doing these open mics. Too bad there aren’t much in Japan. I guess I’ll have to start a venue until I get back home.

All in all, it was a great experience and I met some really cool comics. The Tokyo comics are surprisingly very supportive and friendly. I had the pleasure in meeting Ken Suzuki, who is like the only Japanese stand up comedian, and he’s hilarious.

I can’t wait to get on stage again. Fuck!

Even though it was what I expected I was still disappointed. I met up with the guy at starbucks. He was 10 minutes late and as soon as he got there he kept asking me if I had the ¥20,000. I immediately was trying to think of ways to get away from the slime ball. He seemed like one of those street hustlers that lures guys into topless bars in Ropongi and this is just another get rich quick scheme.

Nothing too dramatic. I just kindly told the guy I’m not so interested in joining the “club” anymore. He then started to ask me if it was because I have a girlfriend and told me that his wife is a hostess and he has no problem with it because sex isn’t involved. He then tried to give me this deep talk about trust, relationship, and business. I let him finish then stood up, shook his hand, and got the fuck out of there.

Sheesh!

Expect more posts about my adventurous weekend in Tokyo.

The trip ended with the rude awakening that not only did we get there using local trains but we have to travel all the way back using the damn slow trains. It was insult to injury when we realized that we hadn’t even planned our route back or checked the times at the stations.

Our feet were a blistering mess from all the walking in Osaka and Kyoto. The joy and adventure of traveling was coming to an end; we just wanted to go home, take a shower, and sleep.

A wild time Chico and I will never forget.

The people of Osaka are very different from the others I’ve met in Japan. They seem much more hip, open, outgoing, and friendly to strangers. They are tolerant and don’t freeze up when I speak to them in my shitty Japanese.

The first day was spent walking around the station looking for accommodations. We stumbled upon the red light district where a man in his PJs offered us his Thai wife for ¥20,000/hour. I was asking him in detail what we could do during this hour of service with his wife when he pulled out a little notebook with English terms written out in Katakana. “Intercourse. O.K. eh-to, demo, condom ne?”

The next day, we took the subway to the busy Namba shopping district. One is left in awe of the amount of people and different shit going on as you are pushed through the big arcades which run like little veins across the city. Your mind is overwhelmed by stimuli as you try not to pass out of dehydration. Luckily there are vending machines everywhere.

We didn’t find any geishas in Kyoto but we did find a crossing dressing pimp walking out of his brothel in Osaka. We referred to him as a gay-sha and he/she was kind enough to pose for a picture.

You see: Osakans are just different.

I’m running low on funds since I quit my full time job to become a prolific blogging icon. So I decided to venture into some new employment options after my British pal, Martin-san, sent me a link to My Yes Man male escorting service.

Please check the website and look at the photos and videos of guys eager to sell cock.

Oh yeah, I decided to call up the company to set up an interview and I recorded it for your listening pleasure. Enjoy!

 

 Selling Dick: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I know a lot of people wouldn’t find octopus appetizing. I was one of those people until I tried takoyaki. Takoyaki is chunks of octopus fried into a ball of batter. It’s usually served with okonomiyaki sauce and mayonnaise. If you’re really cool you sprinkle dried fish shavings on top.

I was lucky enough to eat takoyaki in, Osaka, the city where it originated from. I asked a janitor near the station, in my broken Japanese, to direct me to the best takoyaki shop in town. He lead me to the Pizza Ball House.

Immediately, I knew this was the right place after seeing the expression on the mascot’s face. OO OO OO!! OCTOPUS BALLS!!!