You gotta love Japanese culture. They always find a way to surprise you with their little quirks and pleasantries.

I mean, in America, the stereotypical retiree will move down to Florida to spend their time lounging by the pool in a gated community or playing a few holes on the golf course. Lame. In Japan, adult films for senior citizens, aka “elderly porn” is growing into quite the profitable franchise, according to porn producing giant Ruby Productions.

While America’s economy is declining, many entertainment venues (including golf courses) are taking a hit. In Japan, at least one retiree is cashing in on the entertainment biz. Shigeo Tokuda, 73, is the Ron Jeremy of elderly porn.

CNN correspondent Kyung Lah describes Tokuda as “the star of his movies in every way, romancing his co-stars, no matter their age, no matter their needs.” And apparently, his films are no-holds-barred, much like anything Jenna Jameson has appeared in. Read More »

Ok, relax, just breathe. You’ll be back at school in…30 days.

This mantra grows increasingly ineffective the longer I am forced to live under the same roof as my mother. If you are lucky enough to have left behind your home home for your school home, then God bless you, throw a kegger in your living room (on a motha effing TUESDAY!) If you, like me, have yet to escape your personal circle of hell, I’ve compiled a small guide to maintaining your sanity as well as familial relations for the remainder of this short (but dear Allah, oh so long) stint back home. Because, let’s face it, being disowned would be counterproductive if your parents still pay the majority of your tuition/rent/medical bills and whatnot.

Scenario: You come home from a bar crawl, unhappy matriarch/patriarch up and awaiting your return, toe tapping a Morse code slew of disapproving comments.
Solution: Passive Aggression. Outwardly, bow your head and accept the berating and “Not under my roof” nonsense. Avoid eye contact, showcasing your humility and apologetic demeanor, all the while making easier your inner thought process: “Haha! You are merely projecting your jealousy onto me because you can’t go out till 3 am! At school, this is an early night! Mwahaha!” Read More »

Today, I realized I had been living a lie. When I changed my major from journalism to English last semester (big mistake – but that’s another story for another blog), I thought “Hey, sweet! I can catch up on classes this summer by reading classic lit (poolside, albeit), expanding my already-extensive vocabulary with words like ‘subtilization’ and ‘castrato’ and still work on my tan!”

Apparently, I had fallen prey to my university’s (and um, my so-called ‘friends’) pernicious lies about the elusive evil that is summer school. Both my advisor and financial counselor had blissfully encouraged me to spend my hard-earned work/study cash on summer classes because, well, they were going to be so much easier than the normal, semester-long demons I would inevitably have to struggle with during the fall semester. It sounded like a pretty good idea, and when I consulted my girls who had all previously taken summer classes, they too said that summer school was way easy. And okay, I got a little excited when I realized that this meant I could wear flip-flops and jean skirts to class every day if I wanted– something northeast Ohio school years rarely permit.

So, I took the plunge. I signed up for summer school…with little to no idea about what was in store for me.

I was still floating on cloud nine after a post-midnight romp with an attractive boy when I waltzed into my first English Studies class - totally ready to tackle Faulkner and Woolf with ease. However, as soon as the syllabus reached my freshly-manicured fingernails….I practically went into cardiac arrest. Read More »

I’m a girl with a mission. For over a year now, I have been traveling the globe in search of truth. Along the way I am discovering myself. Here is one tale from the road, of which there will be many forthcoming…

I’m a travel writer, so I don’t have a lot of money. I barely earn what I can spend, and sometimes I can’t even get by. Do I complain? No, not at all. There is a resourcefulness that comes with this job that I didn’t know I had until recently.

An illustration: Read More »

So, my dad – an ever-proud Mizzou alum – recently decided to tell me about his beloved university’s Student Recreation Complex (a fairly new addition, erected in 2005). As someone who doesn’t even know the location of her own school’s rec center, you can imagine my apathy (I think my exact response was “Meh”).

Upon further information though, I understand what my dad was on about. Um, this architectural gluttony was modeled after Cribs and it even boasts its own Playboy-inspired “Tiger Grotto”. There is a sauna. There is a hot tub. There are waterfalls and palm trees. There is a curtailed version of the Six Flags sensation Lazy River, and – oh yeah – waiters to serve up wraps and smoothies poolside.

What’s that? You need a mani-pedi? A cucumber facial? A deep-tissue, reflexological, aromatherapeutic massage? All available on demand.

Fine, Mizzou students! When you’re finished there, why don’t you just wrap yourselves up in your towels of gold, slip on your diamond flip-flops, and ride your stallion-drawn carriage back to the dorms! Pfft!