so please gimme beer float to deal.

Because sometimes I just want alcohol.  And ice cream.  Together.  At home.
Which makes me an alcoholic in Japan.
Not kidding.

Ok, this is fucked up.
Me: I can’t believe people in Japan don’t drink at home.  Seriously?!
FB (friend-boy): Yeah…no, they don’t.  It’s very rare.  Do you?
Me: Sure.
FB: Alone?
Me: Sometimes.
FB: Are you an alcoholic?
Me: Frealz?! Okay, he’s being serious.  No, I’m not an alcoholic.  Enter speedy, defensive thoughts on the immediate: sometimes I really like a beer when I get home.  Or a whiskey.  Especially after working and running around this crazy city for 8, 10, 14 hours straight and having felt sweat rivulets streaming down my back since my first train at 8am.  Wait, why do I feel I have to qualify my drinking?  Fuck that, FB.  
FB: Hmm…

Or…
Dude: Did you get your hair done?
Me: Yep. Wow, dude actually noticed; perhaps I’m not giving him enough credit.
Dude: Did you add new color to cover up your greys?
Me: Nope, giving him exactly the credit he deserves.  I don’t have any grey…yet.  I debate telling him that his line of questioning isn’t going to win any cute Japanese girl hearts.  But then again he’s like 12 22 so…perhaps better for him to learn this on his own.  Growing pains, dude.

And most recently,
Him: Did you answer the intercom just now?
Me: Um…yes.
Him: Wow, your Japanese is very pretty.
Me: I am incredulous, in disbelief.  Really?
Him: Yeah, it’s really strange but not strange like the way most other foreigners speak it.
Me: Mm-hmm.  So probably he doesn’t know what pretty means?  I am so confused by his unsolicited critique on my language skills that I’m sure it shows on my face, furrowed brows and all.
Him: No, I mean it’s very cute.  And strange.

Can I have that beer whiskey float now?