how omoshiroi.

so the other day i had a few drinks with my cousin out on the west side at a restaurant/bar called nancy's in waipio gentry. we were playing darts and enjoying our thirty some odd minute game when a group of people walked in. as soon as i saw the sight of their fanny-packs that were wrapped around their waists, i knew that they had plans to take over our board in order for them to use for their tournament (?). now, i hate darts, so this was a good thing for me. i don't like having to be interrupted while i'm sipping my beer just to throw three darts at certain numbers and its sections.

so of course they were warming-up with the board that was next to ours, and you could just sense that our presence were some what of a nuisance for them. here's this forty something year old japanese man whose every word had to have been "fuck" or "shit", this mid/late-twenties guy who still thinks that the 1990's 'buya' hairstyle still exists, and this tita-for-an-a woman wearing a spaghetti strap with no bra with her black and white hair that i can only imagine smells like an ashtray. chances are, no, i'll guarantee to you, that these people were single; talking about how wasted they have gotten the other night and how "hurtten they was"...ugh, so sad.

but getting back to my story, these individuals take this dart game so seriously. as they were entering their information on the dart board, the lady was complaining that her handicap had improved and demanded that it should be adjusted. handicap....in darts....right....what, you've decided to take that finger out of your ass which in turn, improved the way how you release a dart? so whatever, it got adjusted and she throws. she hit two bulls-eyes as well as some other necessary section and she walks past the line of men receiving hi-fives or knuckle-to-knuckle. i mean, of course right, according to her she cut down on masturbating so it's expected that she does good.

the next guy was the japanese mid-ager. he doesn't throw as well, even after visualizing his target before his throws by limping his wrists like that chinese good luck cat that they have in restaurants and businesses. now he's sort of angry of what he had shot, and blamed it on the fact that he had too much to drink the other night. okay look, first of all, you never should blame alcohol for anything. ever. so you feel like shit the next morning; that's not alcohol that's making you feel that way, it's her bitchy relative ethanal that's within you. so the simple, and most logical solution for one to do is drink a little more. you don't just throw in the towel after one rough night. but most important, especially in this poor bachelor's (life-long, for sure) case, alcohol will probably be there for you everytime you feel that two hands are just not enough.

so i've had enough of this scene by now. i wasn't really comfortable being in this atmosphere. usually, i'd drink more just so that i can some how phase whatever i don't want to see/feel/experience out of my head. but this was just impossible, since my tokyo iced tea seemed to have been made in taiwan. if there's three things one person should never go cheap on, they are knives, spas, and any substance (illegal or not) that provides you some sort of high or relief.