It was just another restful Friday night. Sometimes things get a bit crazy on a Friday eve, but I work on Saturdays, so sometimes I just pour some wine and sit back and relax.
I was pretty excited to have some new cords connecting my laptop and my immense hard drive to the stereo system. My gf decided she didn’t want to hear any more music through crappy laptop speakers and rushed out during the day to buy 3 meters of cords, which turned out to be short, then rushed out again to about 5 more electric stores to finally come back with 3 more meters.
This is how Japan works. Every store carries one of everything. If you actually need more, you have to visit another store. The other stores all have wildly different prices, lack the item altogether, or the guy working there has no idea what you’re talking about but spends 45 minutes trying to help you but not actually helping you at all.
I shed tears for her. I don’t have that kind of patience. This is why amazon.com was invented.
Anyway, it’s Friday night, I’m playing DJ, selecting chill tunes from my esoteric list of some 18,000 songs I’ve accumulated over the years. I’m having a good ‘ol time. I learn to enjoy these moments, cause it’s always about 5 minutes short of someone knocking on the door to bitch about the loud music or something of the sort.
The phone rings…
I turn the music down…
Is it someone complaining already? Has my personal Okenfoldian evening come to a halt?
No, instead, it’s a far more dire problem.
My Girlfriend’s colleague has downloaded some porn to masturbate to and it installed some kind of virus on her computer and she needs my gf’s help to restore her computer to its previous virus-free state of being.
A few thoughts race through my mind:
1) Only in Japan would someone ever call with the problem “Sorry to bother you, but I was trying to masturbate and got a virus, can you help me?”
2) My girlfriend is the go-to person for resolving porn virus computer problems? She doesn’t even have a computer…
Ah, Japan, you wacky nonsensical place…
But it gets weirder. My GF, who as stated earlier, doesn’t own a computer, starts rustling around in her bookshelf and comes out with two manuals on computers, one for resolving, rebooting, and restoring computers in the event of a cataclysmic (porn) crash, and another detailing the ins and out of building a computer from scratch on your own.
When asked why she’d own such a book, she tells me “It was cheap at the used book store.” When asked if she was planning on building a computer on her own she shrugs her shoulders and says “No, not really…”
Again, Japan, you never cease to amaze and amuse.
While she’s helping the rest of Japan avert porn crisises, I decide to flip through the computer building book (and I apologize for the crappy iphone quality):
It’s Japan, so everything is explained via cartoons. To have credible information explained without cartoons would just be silly. Here’s an old smart looking guy. He’s the nuts and bolts guy, Mr. Troubleshooter. He’s gonna help me get my rig up and running.
This next guy is the doctor’s helper. He’s the kōhai to the Dr’s senpai. He’s gonna guide me through the process of finding all the bits and pieces and smoothly help me set my new computer up.
Finally, should all else fail, when I completely just break down with a pile of assorted computer parts in my hands, this lady”s here in her little skirt, high heels and cleavage hanging out, for me to masturbate to when I can’t figure out how to build a computer via a cartoon picture manual.
I could sit here and complain right now and make statements about how Japan demeans women at every turn. I could get all angry and flustered and pissy about women’s rights and such…
Or I could just sit back and enjoy a strange Friday evening, where my GF’s on the phone with friends making porno downloads easier while I peruse a manual with a cartoon woman flirtatiously winking at me in a hooker outfit while teaching me to build a computer.
Odds are she’ll be a naked cartoon by page 40. This IS Japan after all…