Tag Archives: rub the Buddha belly

A Bit o’ Cowboy Lovin’ – Halloween VI

Texas, boldest and grandest, and land of mighty cowboys. Right. Except that, in Dallas, I see a whole lot more suits than cowboy hats. Raised on JR and Jock Ewing, I’ve always felt cheated and entitled to a refund.

Then… last Saturday, at the Oak Lawn Halloween Street Party, I got an eyeful that probably compensates for the 15 years of cowboylessness.

At first, innocent enough, even though bare-chested and nipple-pierced

Then he turned around.

The new version of Rub the Buddha Belly, Texan style

Married women getting a bit of cowboy action

I plan on writing a letter to David Jacobs, the creator of Dallas, the TV show. He obviously completely missed the mark on that one.

Izakayas + Japadians = Fun Tonight, Hell Tomorrow

Numata, Japan. Saturday night. Kelly came over for a before drinks drink. Ross and I showed him our new toys and Kelly oohed and aahed politely until he spotted the coin bank, then he really meant it!

We debated whether it was motion, sound, or touch triggered, screaming at it and making all kinds of cool gestures in front of it but, in the end, we could not tell for sure. To this day, it remains a mystery. Time flies by when in Numata, and we suddenly realized it was 10 pm and we were starving. Off we went to Gen Roku Izakaya.

We sat at the “bar” where your legs and feet dangle into a hole in the floor. Of course, we first had to take our shoes off which still weirds me out a bit.

Ross and Kelly had beer (and let me tell you Japanese do not serve little rikiki beers), and I had sake which I adore and is very dangerous for my sobriety. Soon, I was taking the camera to a nearby alcove when youngsters were eating and mostly drinking.

They seemed to welcome me crashing the party and made multiple peace signs.

And more peace signs… If you try to convey that you’d rather them NOT make peace signs, they get very confused, soooo get used to it. Many more peace signs to come!

By the time I got back to our bar hole, Kelly was lovingly kissing my handbag.

Ross was making peace signs too (they were peace signs, right Ross?) and I was feeling quite, er, relaxed and amorous. I generally do not go about restaurant reclining but my shoes were confiscated and my sake goblet never ran out of liquid (by the way, in Japan, a woman never pours her own sake, she has to hold the cup, and put her other hand under it – so that if the guy misses, she’ll sustain third degree burns but the table cloth will remain immaculate – then hopefully a man notices her begging for sake and serves her some.)

The owners of Gen Roku, traditionally called Master san and Mamma san, were the bomb!

Kelly lifted Mamma san off the floor and moved her around a bit (I think she liked that.)

But Master san had an expression on his face which makes me think he liked his Mamma san better with her feet on the ground and away from the rock star.

Master san’s sock shoes had issues.

Me too. Poor Ross. It must be fairly difficult to have dinner with a monkey woman hanging from your neck! Well, as I mentioned before, Ross is a very polite man and he resignedly let me have my way with him. Then I decided to document the azakaya’s kitchen.

I think the cooks san were trying to convey the delightfulness of the food at Gen Roku – either that or the guy san on the left is rubbing the Buddha belly for good luck.

Cook san on the right presented the kitchen which appeared spotless and a fun environment.

I would fail all my duties if I did not post the traditional peace sign photograph too. You will not be spared.

Oh yeah, no sparing for you!

My last souvenir of Gen Roku Izakaya: Ross in animated Japanese discussion with Master san and Kelly really needing to go home. Ross and I took a cab to the 7/11.

This is our cab driver. My experience of izakayas with Ross and Kelly is that when you get out of there, you generally need some kind of food otherwise waking up in the morning feels miserable.

That’s the best hangover preventive ever: the Nikuman that Ross describes as a “gorgeous creation of doughy crap and possible meat all just waiting for you when you walk in the door.” He can eat four on the row which is really quite impressive when you think about it.

Dallas is not half as fun as Numata with the crazy Japadians. Blogging about this makes me feel all sad and nostalgic and I have not even been back a week. On the other hand, I have felt inexplicably much better in the morning since my return.