As usual Patty and I were roughhousing on Friday night and somehow we started shoving our iPhones into each other’s mouths. I bit down on his phone (very lightly) and felt glass fragments spray into my mouth. I shattered the screen and dented the aluminum on the back. SMRT.
So my friend Andy Hill and I went to Minako Organic Sushi for dinner the other night. Minako is my favorite restaurant in the world. It’s run by my friends Judy/Minako and her mother, Yoko. Judy, who used to work in the music industry (she will kill me for writing that), runs the floor and Yoko runs the kitchen. I call it the Japanese Laundry. It takes a long time to eat there and the food is exquisite. It’s also on Mission between 17th and 18th, which is essentially crackwhore central, and the street is thick with crazy drug addicts.
As we are wont to do, we closed the restaurant. Yoko came out and poured us some sake and started telling us the most absurd and funny story. She said that a (male) Yakuza came in to the restaurant a while back wearing pink pants and talking on a Hello Kitty cell phone. She said he was very quiet and normal and friendly.
But then he started telling her that he was smuggling cocaine and heroin stuffed inside of a condom stuffed inside of a condom stuffed inside of a condom, apparently because then dogs can’t smell them. She also mentioned he was putting them inside sushi fish or something like that (in which case I imagine the dogs really can’t smell them). But then she said he went outside and a bum panhandled him and he karate-chopped the bum! And she actually said “Hi-ya!” in her adorable Japanese accent. I just about lost it. Granted, I had had a lot of sake at this point, but the mental image of a pink-panted Yakuza karate-chopping a panhandling bum was just a little much for me at the moment.
Plus I have had this picture of the Japanese man with the pink bear gun sitting around on my hard drive for a long time and this was a perfect opportunity to use it.
