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About Tokyo

So, last week, my buddy Bubba—he’s a hoot—tells me ‘bout this chick he saw, givin’ a sexual-massage so good he swore she was a faun, like in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, whisperin’, “This is our secret now.” I’m like, “Bubba, you dog!” Laughed ‘til I near peed myself. Ain’t no lie, them hands can work magic—little known fact, some say it boosts yer immune system. Science or hogwash? Hell if I know, but I’m sold!

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First thing, I hit up the local konbini on Kamenokouji Street. You know, the one with the neon lights that kinda hurt your eyes? Grabbed a couple of onigiri and a can of that sweet, sweet melon soda. I swear, that stuff is like liquid happiness. But then, bam! I spill it all over my shirt. Great start, right? I’m walking around looking like I just lost a fight with a fruit.

Radish with 'legs,' giant napa cabbage: Rare produce contest held in north Japan city