Or bellybutton lint. There'd be no way of telling.

I go through cheap jeans with the same frequency some people vacuum, I really do. Biking and general wear and tear has worn a hole in the crotch of my pants – the only location, I'll note, where holes in jeans are not fashionable.

Sigh. My grandma, dear soul that she is, is going to try to find another pair from home, and send them to me. The Japanese have no concept of hips or boobs, and being cursed with both, clothes shopping of any kind here is a joke.

But anywho.

Last night we all (Julia, Kiti, Arina, Anne, Scott, Rachel, Ruba, Yuka, Aya, Vinny, Fred, and myself) went to a club and saw a Japanese hip hop group perform. It was mostly beatbox and freestyle stuff. "These guys are actually pretty good" was the general consensus. But upon further reflection, I'm not sure how we would have known otherwise. Maybe 10% of the gaijin that were present could even understand half of the lyrical content. For all we know, they could have been rapping about the dangers of cafeteria food or the difficulties of using Japanese-style toilets. They could have sucked.