Lady Gaga's Revenge........

The other night, I was just getting off the bus after a long day at school.

It's turned bitterly cold here, and even though the weather channel keeps threatening us with snow, it never seems to arrive, so things just get colder and dryer, until you feel as though your ears may snap off in protest, when you forget your hat.

Now as you may or may not know, we have moved countries a couple of times, and just as a precaution (my husband isn't comfortable dealing in English)  I have given The Boy a mobile phone.

He is only 8, and I know it seems a bit early for such luxuries, but it is very useful.  If I am going to be late, I can call him directly, (because he isn't allowed to answer the phone at home, if he gets in before I do) and when he is at the park, or has walked a friend home, and I want to know where he is, him and I can check in.  

He can also call his Grandparents, and Me and his Dad  (and we can call him)  for free and talk as long as we like, so it's worth the 20 bucks I month, I reckon.

He is fairly responsible, and he knows only to call me when I am at work for  an emergency.  The Daddy is home to fetch them from school when I work late (about 4 days a week out of 6).

So I am getting off the bus.  I have forgotten my hat and gloves, and I am trying to  wrap my scarf around my head, like an old woman, so I don't lose my ears to frostbite, when my phone rings with The Boy's designated ring tone (The Super Mario Theme) and I put the icy thing to my ear and say "Hello!??"
His breathy little voice whispers,

"Mummee! You gotta help me!" 

and all sorts of dreadful things flash through my mind.   I have been at work all day, and The Daddy has been in charge.   

Has he forgotten to fetch the Duck from Kindy?   Has he fallen asleep and burnt the house down? Is he hurt??  Is The Boy locked out!??  Where is The Daddy!!?
 
Shunny continues with his urgent message, which is,

"How do I kill Lady GaGa? She can fly and she keeps beating me"

I think " Wait, Lady GaGa can fly??" 

So I ask what are you playing (I can here game music  in the background, and a voice, just like Lady Gaga that keeps saying  "Aaahh! OOfff  Ooof! Hya! Do you like that!??  Do you LIKE THAT!!?")

He says he is playing Street fighter, Capcom Versus Marvel.

I am now thinking "Lady Gaga is a Marvel character?? Apparently she is hard to beat, because she can fly. Who knew?"

I am not quite home yet, but I'm sure they  are all suppose to be :

1. eating dinner.  OR


2. doing their homework.  OR

3. in the bath at some point. 

THIS is what happens when you leave The Daddy in charge....

Luckily, the mystery was solved when my friend, Mary sent me a message that said : 

"Okay I know who Lady Gaga is" 

• • Yep Miss Mary De, that's her alright. 

     

    The Boy is actually playing online (the Daddy bought a new system) with someone over the other side of the world. 

    Also, I don't know how to beat lady Gaga. 

     http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcRJUbb_lz2dNcdwbOIfkpPnNCd2bNT8iHt4SGMRzGrC181KkV4JB9cnEPbr5w

     

    I am home now, and it was only the sound of game music that saved me from a Mummee Meltdown, when the phone call started with a panicky little "Mummee! You gotta help me!"

Train Train Train.

 I am on trains and buses a lot.  Mostly trains.  My job takes me to all the most far flung, and some times scenic stations of Honshu, mostly inside (but sometimes waaaay outside) Greater Tokyo.

I probably travel about 15 hours a week on public transport.  Thank goodness it's EXCELLENT here in Japan.  I gave up my car last year, and really haven't missed it much.

I was on the train with Head Butt Boy again this morning. Him, and my evil nemesis, Skeevy Gaijin-hating Oji were squaring off. 

If you cast your mind back, you may remember about three weeks ago I saw the PERFECT Bankstown kiss executed on the train, when a Salaryman shoved a Rocker (now known as Head Butt Boy) out the train doors, and got a beautiful headbutt to the forehead for his touble.

At the time,  I peeked over the top of my book to see the argy bargy unfold before we got to Shinagawa. 

All the other passengers slid away, moving well back from the violence.  It's not often you see proper punch ups on Tokyo trains, despite the crowded carriages, not so many people lose their tempers and throw a wobbly.  

I am from a fairly rough part of Sydney, and you can have it on my authority that Salary men here in Tokyo can't fight for shite.  

It's a ritual.  It consists of them getting drunk, wrapping their neckties around their heads, going red in the face and getting too loud.  They stand metres apart, and wave their hands around, and shout obscenities at one another  (sometimes throwing a kick into thin air), but they don't throw punches.  

Usually.

When HBB turned and planted one on the offending Salaryman, I did a tiny fist pump and let out a silent little "YES!!" of triumph.

I felt a bit guilty, as I am not into violence, but I get pushed , shoved and belted around a lot on the train, by these guys in suits who think they are the only people on public transport that really matter. 

They won't let old ladies or people on crutches sit down, they ignore or push past pregnant women, and sit in the Silver Seats (designed for the elderly, handicapped passengers or those pregnant or with small children).  

They then pretend to go to sleep.

It gets up my nose.

 

This morning, Skeevy Gaijin Hating Oji once again found me. 

I try to get on a different carriage every day to avoid the prick but he seems to find me all the bloody time.

 

When ever the train is over crowded he shuffles next to me and does one of three things. He will constantly make the "oh look what a big nose you have, and look!   You have big biiiiig boobs! herrr herrrr herrrr!"  gestures or he yells out random English in my direction, so everyone turns and glares at me for the whole commute. 

The worst thing he does is when I change from foot to foot  balancing on the moving train, or I lean out of the way to let someone get past.   He slides his leg into the space where my foot needs to put itself down again.  If the train is really crowded, there isn't any room anywhere else for my feet to go, no where to step,  I am on one foot.

Last time he pulled this little number, everytime I tried to put my foot down on the floor, he would boot my ankle, almost sending me flying. I did this one foot & one hand, bent over balancing act for 10 full stops until Shinagawa. 

 

It takes an extraordinary amount of energy not to do my rag, and punch him in the throat. 

I have tried to eschew violence, because I am an angry little white woman, and one of these little dolly bodied people may come to some serious harm if I go postal. 

 

This morning, he started to make fun of Head Butt Boy, and made a grab at his guitar case.   Although the train was crowded, becuase I ignored this mornings performance of "shouting random English at Wendy" Skeevy Oji decided to change targets. 

Aaaand got a head butt to the cheek. 

When I got off at Shinagawa, I gave Head Butt Boy a big cheesy.

 

If the cops ask me, I'm saying the Oji swung first.