SAYONARA, TOKYO!
My trip was a bit of a disappointment. Not because of Japan itself, but rather my own flu-ish condition and the rheumy eyes through which I viewed my exotic, new surroundings. I'd had a rotten cold for a week before leaving on Valentine's Day. I missed my therapy session so now I'll save some $ by whining to you! By the time I got off the 12 hour flight, sucking in the same air as the other international bird flu, turd flu and SARS-infected passengers I was riddled with a cold so debilitating that they would want to put those fucking surgical masks on when I trolled by slinging my deadly snot.
As if those masks work. Are they worn by the sick to prevent others' contamination or as protection from getting sick? Or to filter out pollution? This guy who lowered his mask to have a ciggy certainly seems to defeat whatever the purpose was. Maybe they should design a smoker's version of the mask with a hole at the mouth.
Anyhoo, I came over to dj at a Visionaire launch/exhibition/party, but I thought why come all this way without hanging out for a few extra days? It's a long flight and I'd only been here once, with Willie Ninja, Sister DImension, Madamae Ekaterina Sobechanskaya, club-kid legend Olympia and a few others to work a Suzanne Bartsch party. Since we never made it out of Tokyo, I'd wanted to return and use a spare day to take the bullet train to Kyoto and have a gander at the temples, geishas and what not. WRONG!
I will never again underestimate the crippling force of jet-lag, which has never hit me like it did this time. (Old?) I was hag-xhausted, but unable to sleep because my rhythms were fucked-up. I guess what I'd recommend to a visitor to any land that far away are bringing plenty of melatonin, Ambien or other sleeping aids, and DEFINITELY figuring in at least a day of leisurely recovery time before you have to "do" anything, much less hop a train to another city to explore. I was also poorly prepared for my trip. I'd had only jumped out of my 4-day sickbed to rush around the day before my departure trying to accessorize the borrowed kimono which I imagined I'd wear while go-go dancing to TURNING JAPANESE on a street corner behind a tip cup, with dumbfounded japanese looking on in shock, disgust, dismay--whatever. I thought it might be cute to cut graphics into the footage which indicated that I was an "international sensation", along with other segments in which I asked perplexed japanese for directions to the Great Wall, or perhaps brandished a piece of dental floss offering to blindfold strangers on the street. I had visions of prissing through the shopping areas and showing the Harajuku girls of HOLLA BACK fame a thing or two as their eyes narrowed at my "wicked style", and dreamt of later photo-shopping a Hacidic male's hat and spit-curls onto my head as a Hara-JEW-ku girl. All for you, my dear readers!
I would also recommend bringing fiber supplements. I know that whole continents subsist on white rice, but like our white bread and the food in Torino which the Winter Olympics athletes just complained about yesterday, there is very little fiber in it. Together with the few vegetables served (to me) in Japan besides seaweed, you're likely to be literally "full of shit" throughout your stay. And another thing--only take nutrition tips from fat people.
I also hadn't done my research, since I was busy wiping away my bountiful snot while shopping for the "perfect jewelry" for the borrowed psychedelic TURNING JAPANESE kimono which I wouldn't even wear once. I didn't go online and google any gay highlights (like the popular gay bar Mr. Strawberry--how fruity!) or tourist attactions or find out info on that bullet train to Kyoto. And Tokyo, much larger than NYC, is a bit daunting. A few warnings. Outside of your hotel, english is not widely spoken. Your ATM cards and cellphones are unlikely to work everywhere. Tokyo is huge and the subway was confusing--though I'm admittedly not a map person. Taxis are abundant, but japanese have their own unique way of giving directions and unless your destination is a well-known landmark, rotsa ruck with the non-english speaking cabdrivers. Oh, and the taxi doors, like the escalators which are triggered to start right before you step on them, are automated. Don't touch them! The driver won't like it. He wants to be in control of opening and closing them. And their spotless white gloves are so cute!
Not so cute? Trying to get my big bubble-headed moose-ass into the diminuative japanes taxis!
The japanese are a fascinating and often startlingly gorgeous people. As soon as the male flight attendant made his announcements in a whispery, polite, barely audible manner which was so different from our loud and gregarious "Welcome aboard and how 'bout that Super Bowl?" stewardesses, I began to realize how different our people are. Personally, I am probably the direct opposite of these reserved, polite, efficient and cheery clean freaks. Well, except for the freak part. I was shocked to see construction workers painstakingly putting out their cigarette butts on the bottom of their shoes and then into the trash can. Can you imagine a gruff American workman doing anything other than flinging his cigarette butt on the ground? There are hardly any homeless people here, although my keen eye clocked one, who gave me a cheery if toothless grin from his makeshift hut.
And he singlehandedly disproved the myth about miniature asian dicks.He had 10 inches! Well, 7 after I lovingly removed the dirt and scabs. I had brought along a magnifying glass to aid in my quest for cock--but next time I'll come better prepared with a microscope. No, I'm kidding! Japanese dicks are the perfect size....for flossing with! Oink!
But unlike the above gentleman, most of these folks are super-industrious! How else could they afford to be the world's largest consumers of luxury items? Japan keeps those high-end labels in business. And japanese taste is definitely quirky, with a penchant for bright colors and a martian (as my Wigstock partner/fine artist Scott Lifshutz called it) sensibility everywhere.
SQUINT AND YOU CAN PROBABLY DETECT THE ANTENNAE AND HOME-MADE NECKLACE HANGING FROM A SEQUIN BAND.
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
EVEN DOGS WORK A LOOK!
THIS GENIUS CREATION WAS IN THE WINDOW OF A JAPANESE 7-11. CAN WE DISCUSS THE WHITE THIGH BOOTS AND TANK TOP ORNAMENTED WITH A RHINESTONED MINIATURE BAT-WING? AMAZINGLY CUTE!
Maybe it's my pre-conceived notion of the "ancient treasures of the Orient", but you do get a delicious feeling that they're keyed in to some "mystery of the Orient" which westerners aren't, and that they're somehow at peace with themselves. Until you see something like this:
Well I certainly didn't see anything like that at the glittering Visionaire soiree, held atop the famous Mori Tower, and presented by Van Cleef and Arpels and Moet Chandon. I met the creative director of Van Cleef and I'm not sure he understood my humor as I enthused, "I've always been such a fan of your exquisite jewelry", and holding up a VIP access dog-tag on a disposable chain, "but NONE of your designs could ever compare to THIS." He laughed nervously, no doubt noticing the mismatched jewelry that I was forced to wear as my jeweler is busy gearing up for that blasted Night of 1000 Goons.
I arrived and the photgraphers went wild. Both of them! They were screaming for me in their native tongue. I was later informed that translated, their words meant "Get out of the way, scag!", "What is the fuck is it?", "Quick! Get my surgical mask!" and "Where's Cecelia?".
(IN CASE YOU'RE WONDERING, THE LETTERS I'M COVERING SPELLED OUT "MAGIC"," NOT TRAGIC"!
Cecilia Dean, the Visionaire-y who you may recognize from her stunning Harry Winston ad, obliged the shutterbugs by arriving just moments later with her handsome escort David.
Since the radiant Cecilia brought nothing to wear (!), Balenciaga fedexed her a gown from Paris, which deserves it's own full-length shot. (Guys, for the record, I don't consider myself a photo-journalist, but I'm trying!)
Her bag is haute, and I think her dress would look great on me--as a scarf! Cecilia and David are joined here by the suave Greg Foley, another Visionaire staffer. Now Visionaire and I have a longstanding and somewhat peculiar realtionship. I never really intended to become a dj, and still can't mix worth a damn, but as music in the clubs got harder and more techno-y in the 90's, a lot of clubs would stick me in the lounge because I provided a relief from the usual main floor fare by spinning a variety of tempo, styles, and eras. No one really took me seriously as a dj until this deluxe, glossy art and fashion quarterly started hiring me to play their parties in New York, Paris, Milan, London, and Miami. And as high end as their publication may be, the Visionaire crew has a delightful sense of humor and appreciates my sense of trash. Like the time they arrived at the hotel in Paris to have the handicapped toilet door swing open to reveal me bombed and blowing the vietnamese janitor. At 5:00 am on that night, I dialed up Cecilia's room to inform her that I'd spoken with Stephen Gan, the head honcho pictured below,
and that her services would no longer be needed at Visionaire, effective immediately. Stephen reminded me that I'd also tried to blow Greg at each of their first 10 parties. Hey! A girl can't help it if she's got good taste, can she? Look how suave Greg still looks sampling figs and candied ginger dipped in chocolate. Luckily for Greg, I have finally given up after 10 years.
SPOTTED: THE GAL FROM PIZZICATO FIVE--WHAT A POSE! SHE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR HEAVENLY-TITLED TRACKS LIKE STRAWBERRY SLEIGHRIDE AND MAGIC TWIN CANDLE TALE.
SEX CHANGE SITING!
ANOTHER SEX CHANGE SITING!
Now this drag had a novel idea. Take a cab and arrive with one wig on head and one in hand.
Then for added height, plop the second wig on top and secure it with some sort of stick lodged in the base wig prior to arrival, et voila!
JAPANESE CARTOON BLING BLING
NEW YORK ELECTRO DUO DUKE WAS PERFORMING AT CLUB FALINE THAT NIGHT.
AT THE INVITATION OF THIS LOVELY LADY, WHO WAS INTRODUCED AS THE QUEEN OF THE HARAJUKU GIRLS. (I guess the hot new look over there is nightshades with long reddish hair under the arms! I wonder if Lypsinka knows how in she is...)
AND I GUESS THE SIDEWAYS (OR SHOULD I SAY SLANTED?) PEACE SIGN IS THE POPULAR POSE:
IS THIS ONE OF THE WORLD'S MOST ADORABLE COUPLE OR WHAT?
GURL, I EVEN FOUND TRADE IN TOKYO!
border="0" alt="" />
ATTACHED TO THIS!
I wouldn't exactly call his gold-sequinned cowboy hat to be as cutting edge as Visionaire's latest issue, but then neither was the moment when I incorrectly cued up a compilation cd which I'd made, and instead of the Basement Jaxx's DO YOUR THING I'd intended to play, out came the horrifyingly gauche opening strains of LA VIDA LOCA. (At least I didn't fuck up and play Wanda Jackson's FUJIYAMA MAMA, a rockabilly song in which Wanda threatens "I can cause distruction, just like the atom bomb". The only thing sadder were the remaining 4 minutes of the song that I was forced to grin and bear all and bounce around in mock delight as the dancefloor cleared. Troll in the hizouse! This admiring dancer didn't seem to mind. I have two captions for this shot:
SHE SAID: ORDINARILY, I"M THE ONE ON MY KNEES!
HE SAID: THE LONGER I STROKE HER FLAT WHITE ASS, THE SHORTER HER NECK GETS!
I THINK THIS GAL IS TOKYO'S GAND MASTER OF TEA CEREMONIES (REALLY!)
Socialites mingled in designer duds as expensive champagne flowed freely--was I the TOAST OF TOKYO?
OR JUST PLAIN TOASTED? OR JUST PLAIN?
I was plain BUSTED by the time I crawled back to the Ana Hotel. It was there I'd stay for the next few days, clutching a snot-rag and the remote. I had hoped to catch some traditional kabuki drag in a theater, but there was plenty of gender-bending on the telly. I marvelled at the site of these geisha drags in a musical, but was not prepared for the drag kings which followed. At least I think they were drag kings. (That rheumy eye again.) And then there were some really nutty club kid/musical looks that would have done Sister Dimension proud. Forgive the red eye function on my camera--I just got it and couldn't figure out how to turn it off as I (literally) feverishly snapped away at the TV screen.
If you ever visit this site again with those red-eye "art pix" photo essay, soon I'll post pix from my trip to shopping havens Harajuku Street and Shibuya. Yeah, real soon. It took me a month to post these!
As if those masks work. Are they worn by the sick to prevent others' contamination or as protection from getting sick? Or to filter out pollution? This guy who lowered his mask to have a ciggy certainly seems to defeat whatever the purpose was. Maybe they should design a smoker's version of the mask with a hole at the mouth.
Anyhoo, I came over to dj at a Visionaire launch/exhibition/party, but I thought why come all this way without hanging out for a few extra days? It's a long flight and I'd only been here once, with Willie Ninja, Sister DImension, Madamae Ekaterina Sobechanskaya, club-kid legend Olympia and a few others to work a Suzanne Bartsch party. Since we never made it out of Tokyo, I'd wanted to return and use a spare day to take the bullet train to Kyoto and have a gander at the temples, geishas and what not. WRONG!
I will never again underestimate the crippling force of jet-lag, which has never hit me like it did this time. (Old?) I was hag-xhausted, but unable to sleep because my rhythms were fucked-up. I guess what I'd recommend to a visitor to any land that far away are bringing plenty of melatonin, Ambien or other sleeping aids, and DEFINITELY figuring in at least a day of leisurely recovery time before you have to "do" anything, much less hop a train to another city to explore. I was also poorly prepared for my trip. I'd had only jumped out of my 4-day sickbed to rush around the day before my departure trying to accessorize the borrowed kimono which I imagined I'd wear while go-go dancing to TURNING JAPANESE on a street corner behind a tip cup, with dumbfounded japanese looking on in shock, disgust, dismay--whatever. I thought it might be cute to cut graphics into the footage which indicated that I was an "international sensation", along with other segments in which I asked perplexed japanese for directions to the Great Wall, or perhaps brandished a piece of dental floss offering to blindfold strangers on the street. I had visions of prissing through the shopping areas and showing the Harajuku girls of HOLLA BACK fame a thing or two as their eyes narrowed at my "wicked style", and dreamt of later photo-shopping a Hacidic male's hat and spit-curls onto my head as a Hara-JEW-ku girl. All for you, my dear readers!
I would also recommend bringing fiber supplements. I know that whole continents subsist on white rice, but like our white bread and the food in Torino which the Winter Olympics athletes just complained about yesterday, there is very little fiber in it. Together with the few vegetables served (to me) in Japan besides seaweed, you're likely to be literally "full of shit" throughout your stay. And another thing--only take nutrition tips from fat people.
I also hadn't done my research, since I was busy wiping away my bountiful snot while shopping for the "perfect jewelry" for the borrowed psychedelic TURNING JAPANESE kimono which I wouldn't even wear once. I didn't go online and google any gay highlights (like the popular gay bar Mr. Strawberry--how fruity!) or tourist attactions or find out info on that bullet train to Kyoto. And Tokyo, much larger than NYC, is a bit daunting. A few warnings. Outside of your hotel, english is not widely spoken. Your ATM cards and cellphones are unlikely to work everywhere. Tokyo is huge and the subway was confusing--though I'm admittedly not a map person. Taxis are abundant, but japanese have their own unique way of giving directions and unless your destination is a well-known landmark, rotsa ruck with the non-english speaking cabdrivers. Oh, and the taxi doors, like the escalators which are triggered to start right before you step on them, are automated. Don't touch them! The driver won't like it. He wants to be in control of opening and closing them. And their spotless white gloves are so cute!
Not so cute? Trying to get my big bubble-headed moose-ass into the diminuative japanes taxis!
The japanese are a fascinating and often startlingly gorgeous people. As soon as the male flight attendant made his announcements in a whispery, polite, barely audible manner which was so different from our loud and gregarious "Welcome aboard and how 'bout that Super Bowl?" stewardesses, I began to realize how different our people are. Personally, I am probably the direct opposite of these reserved, polite, efficient and cheery clean freaks. Well, except for the freak part. I was shocked to see construction workers painstakingly putting out their cigarette butts on the bottom of their shoes and then into the trash can. Can you imagine a gruff American workman doing anything other than flinging his cigarette butt on the ground? There are hardly any homeless people here, although my keen eye clocked one, who gave me a cheery if toothless grin from his makeshift hut.
And he singlehandedly disproved the myth about miniature asian dicks.He had 10 inches! Well, 7 after I lovingly removed the dirt and scabs. I had brought along a magnifying glass to aid in my quest for cock--but next time I'll come better prepared with a microscope. No, I'm kidding! Japanese dicks are the perfect size....for flossing with! Oink!
But unlike the above gentleman, most of these folks are super-industrious! How else could they afford to be the world's largest consumers of luxury items? Japan keeps those high-end labels in business. And japanese taste is definitely quirky, with a penchant for bright colors and a martian (as my Wigstock partner/fine artist Scott Lifshutz called it) sensibility everywhere.
SQUINT AND YOU CAN PROBABLY DETECT THE ANTENNAE AND HOME-MADE NECKLACE HANGING FROM A SEQUIN BAND.
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
MORE MARTIAN
EVEN DOGS WORK A LOOK!
THIS GENIUS CREATION WAS IN THE WINDOW OF A JAPANESE 7-11. CAN WE DISCUSS THE WHITE THIGH BOOTS AND TANK TOP ORNAMENTED WITH A RHINESTONED MINIATURE BAT-WING? AMAZINGLY CUTE!
Maybe it's my pre-conceived notion of the "ancient treasures of the Orient", but you do get a delicious feeling that they're keyed in to some "mystery of the Orient" which westerners aren't, and that they're somehow at peace with themselves. Until you see something like this:
Well I certainly didn't see anything like that at the glittering Visionaire soiree, held atop the famous Mori Tower, and presented by Van Cleef and Arpels and Moet Chandon. I met the creative director of Van Cleef and I'm not sure he understood my humor as I enthused, "I've always been such a fan of your exquisite jewelry", and holding up a VIP access dog-tag on a disposable chain, "but NONE of your designs could ever compare to THIS." He laughed nervously, no doubt noticing the mismatched jewelry that I was forced to wear as my jeweler is busy gearing up for that blasted Night of 1000 Goons.
I arrived and the photgraphers went wild. Both of them! They were screaming for me in their native tongue. I was later informed that translated, their words meant "Get out of the way, scag!", "What is the fuck is it?", "Quick! Get my surgical mask!" and "Where's Cecelia?".
(IN CASE YOU'RE WONDERING, THE LETTERS I'M COVERING SPELLED OUT "MAGIC"," NOT TRAGIC"!
Cecilia Dean, the Visionaire-y who you may recognize from her stunning Harry Winston ad, obliged the shutterbugs by arriving just moments later with her handsome escort David.
Since the radiant Cecilia brought nothing to wear (!), Balenciaga fedexed her a gown from Paris, which deserves it's own full-length shot. (Guys, for the record, I don't consider myself a photo-journalist, but I'm trying!)
Her bag is haute, and I think her dress would look great on me--as a scarf! Cecilia and David are joined here by the suave Greg Foley, another Visionaire staffer. Now Visionaire and I have a longstanding and somewhat peculiar realtionship. I never really intended to become a dj, and still can't mix worth a damn, but as music in the clubs got harder and more techno-y in the 90's, a lot of clubs would stick me in the lounge because I provided a relief from the usual main floor fare by spinning a variety of tempo, styles, and eras. No one really took me seriously as a dj until this deluxe, glossy art and fashion quarterly started hiring me to play their parties in New York, Paris, Milan, London, and Miami. And as high end as their publication may be, the Visionaire crew has a delightful sense of humor and appreciates my sense of trash. Like the time they arrived at the hotel in Paris to have the handicapped toilet door swing open to reveal me bombed and blowing the vietnamese janitor. At 5:00 am on that night, I dialed up Cecilia's room to inform her that I'd spoken with Stephen Gan, the head honcho pictured below,
and that her services would no longer be needed at Visionaire, effective immediately. Stephen reminded me that I'd also tried to blow Greg at each of their first 10 parties. Hey! A girl can't help it if she's got good taste, can she? Look how suave Greg still looks sampling figs and candied ginger dipped in chocolate. Luckily for Greg, I have finally given up after 10 years.
SPOTTED: THE GAL FROM PIZZICATO FIVE--WHAT A POSE! SHE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR HEAVENLY-TITLED TRACKS LIKE STRAWBERRY SLEIGHRIDE AND MAGIC TWIN CANDLE TALE.
SEX CHANGE SITING!
ANOTHER SEX CHANGE SITING!
Now this drag had a novel idea. Take a cab and arrive with one wig on head and one in hand.
Then for added height, plop the second wig on top and secure it with some sort of stick lodged in the base wig prior to arrival, et voila!
JAPANESE CARTOON BLING BLING
NEW YORK ELECTRO DUO DUKE WAS PERFORMING AT CLUB FALINE THAT NIGHT.
AT THE INVITATION OF THIS LOVELY LADY, WHO WAS INTRODUCED AS THE QUEEN OF THE HARAJUKU GIRLS. (I guess the hot new look over there is nightshades with long reddish hair under the arms! I wonder if Lypsinka knows how in she is...)
AND I GUESS THE SIDEWAYS (OR SHOULD I SAY SLANTED?) PEACE SIGN IS THE POPULAR POSE:
IS THIS ONE OF THE WORLD'S MOST ADORABLE COUPLE OR WHAT?
GURL, I EVEN FOUND TRADE IN TOKYO!
border="0" alt="" />ATTACHED TO THIS!
I wouldn't exactly call his gold-sequinned cowboy hat to be as cutting edge as Visionaire's latest issue, but then neither was the moment when I incorrectly cued up a compilation cd which I'd made, and instead of the Basement Jaxx's DO YOUR THING I'd intended to play, out came the horrifyingly gauche opening strains of LA VIDA LOCA. (At least I didn't fuck up and play Wanda Jackson's FUJIYAMA MAMA, a rockabilly song in which Wanda threatens "I can cause distruction, just like the atom bomb". The only thing sadder were the remaining 4 minutes of the song that I was forced to grin and bear all and bounce around in mock delight as the dancefloor cleared. Troll in the hizouse! This admiring dancer didn't seem to mind. I have two captions for this shot:
SHE SAID: ORDINARILY, I"M THE ONE ON MY KNEES!
HE SAID: THE LONGER I STROKE HER FLAT WHITE ASS, THE SHORTER HER NECK GETS!
I THINK THIS GAL IS TOKYO'S GAND MASTER OF TEA CEREMONIES (REALLY!)
Socialites mingled in designer duds as expensive champagne flowed freely--was I the TOAST OF TOKYO?
OR JUST PLAIN TOASTED? OR JUST PLAIN?
I was plain BUSTED by the time I crawled back to the Ana Hotel. It was there I'd stay for the next few days, clutching a snot-rag and the remote. I had hoped to catch some traditional kabuki drag in a theater, but there was plenty of gender-bending on the telly. I marvelled at the site of these geisha drags in a musical, but was not prepared for the drag kings which followed. At least I think they were drag kings. (That rheumy eye again.) And then there were some really nutty club kid/musical looks that would have done Sister Dimension proud. Forgive the red eye function on my camera--I just got it and couldn't figure out how to turn it off as I (literally) feverishly snapped away at the TV screen.
If you ever visit this site again with those red-eye "art pix" photo essay, soon I'll post pix from my trip to shopping havens Harajuku Street and Shibuya. Yeah, real soon. It took me a month to post these!
posted by Lady Bunny at Friday, March 17, 2006
16 Comments:
Are you wearing a skirt as a dress again ?
Hey Bun Bun,
Really enjoyed hearing all about your recent trip to Japan, sorry to hear you were under the weather.
Stay sweet, Doll!
John Dean
You Are So Fuckin' Funny Bunny! That picture of that ......whatever........shooting lord knows what outta her ass into her mouth was hilarious.....I had to go look up "nose penetration".....I heard it's all the rage in Japan........
Keep on keeping on!!!!!!!!!
Kyoutendouchi!
One of THE BEST posts ever! It was worth the wait.
Hilarious! Thanks for the bigass photo blogs of late. Love them! Sorry to hear you weren't feeling so hot - you certainly looked hot!
Love the blog as usual, Lady Bunny.
I could be wrong, but I think the tv "drag" show you saw was the Takarazuka Revue, an all-female troup that performs elaborate musicals.
From what I remember, the girls in the troup go to the much desired, exclusive, and male-run Takarazuka Music School to become good housewives. They go through military-like training... and even do their extensive daily cleaning duties the old-fashioned way -- no electricity=no vacuums, etc.
The women who play the male roles assume a sort of male identity, though most end up marrying off. The musical revue has a cult-like following, and the girls and women in the audience find the show to be a fantasy world of perfect romance (which few seem to have at home)... and often the "drag kings" are adored and become big stars!
Anyways, after all that, I hope I'm right about it having been the Takarazuka. In any case, they are pretty interesting. More about it can be found on the internet or in the documentary "Dream Girls."
Bunny!!! Absolutely fantastic!!! Please more gigs like this!!! More posts like this!!! More shots like that!!!(?) Whatever...
Are you ever coming to Milan? I want to know you in person!!!
The Drag Queen with the wig on top of the wig is Vivienne Sato, a very famous drag queen and visual artist in the Tokyo scene.
Ha, I remember taking a bunch of pics of the first martian lady's posters in the shop window. Ande and I stayed in a hotel right near that shop a few years ago. When we started taking photos of the window, a passerby came up and struggled to tell us in English, "She.. is not... popular."
But the Takarazuka Review is really popular and on TV often. I have tried twice to get tickets to one of their shows but they are always sold out. The scene in front of the theater is something worth seeing, though. Crowds of middle-aged ladies squealing about the "cute guys."
Girlfriend Bunny hasn't responded..........do you think whe is okay??????????
Gorgeous! I'm loving your shower curtain er mini dress! I think you have some wig competition there. I hope these shopping pics will include some freaky sex toys. I bet they're uber kinky over there.
I lemembell when you wele in Japan and I carred you. I am vely solly you wele irr and unabre to enjoy all the sights of Japan whire you wele thelem, howevel, aftel leading youl blirriant descliption of the things you did see and expelience whire you wele thele it is crear that it was not arr in vain. Thank you, a Rady Bunny fol youl a vely unique and most shooting snot from nostlir funny sense of humol. Arigato.
wow you're rude posting that gross pic! we come to this blog for you, not tub girl
OMG I LOVE YOU LADY BUNNY.
Come to Shanghai and spin at some random party.
You are my idol!
All my life, I've wanted to grow up to be a white american drag queen on the streets of New York.
Amazing :D <3
Perhaps you were toasted, but my friend, you are anything but plain!
I must say, the picture of the Spewing Bunghole put me off my feed, however, and that is difficult to do! I am a gal who likes to eat!
Nice site!
[url=http://ezomzyzb.com/hxga/iyzl.html]My homepage[/url] | [url=http://tfaxdjof.com/jjpm/iarb.html]Cool site[/url]
Post a Comment
<< Blog Home