How do I love Okonomi House

You're tucked away on Charles St. I always have a hell of a time finding you.

Your interior screams 'Japan circa 1979', but is always clean.
Your menu is fairly limited.
No sushi, no Tempura, no Udon, no bullshit.
I can see everything the chef is doing.
I get a Japanese pancake and a hot tea for under 8 dollars, and nostalgia that's worth a lot more.
We speak the same language in this mom and pop shop, and so I don't have to get anything mysterious on top of my dinner unless I specifically ask for it (and sometimes I do).
You're my favourite hole-in-the-wall international greasy spoon.
After a long bike-ride back from the island, I earned you. Hail to the barbecue and mayonnaise covered round that is Okonomiyaki.

Biased

Scene 1: A friend mentions that he has gotten a referral from his doctor to see another doctor, who is his regular doctor's sister.
I make an off-colour joke about how he should watch out, in case his new doctor looks like his regular doctor, but instead of a man is a sexy woman.
He mentions that his regular doctor is also a woman and, assuming his doctor was male, I'm caught in the tired old riddle.
Doctor?
Scene 2: I attend my first class. The professor introduces herself and the course with a series of slides. Shortly, she mentions just returning from taking two years off; one for sabbatical, and the other for maternity leave. She puts up a slide that introduces her graduate research, and explains the project briefly.
She follows this with a slide which is a picture of her toddler. The slide reads 'The Motherhood Project' I smile, but immediately feel uneasy, assuming that this teacher is going to be less professional because she has brought her personal life into the classroom on the first day.
Where am I?

Scene 3: I'm listening to the radio when they mention the beginning of the trial of Michael Schmidt for selling unpasteurized milk products. During two separate newscasts, they use the same report of the courtroom, in which the reporter describes the members of the public present in the courtroom...he describes some of them as "...wearing Birkenstocks, some carrying cloth bags."
Because, of course, only hippies are interested in this debate.
I'm sure my Nonna would have been there if this were another place and time.

Someone I never met, halfway across the world has died

I only know her because I saw a video she directed at Resfest a couple of years ago. She's not the singer.
Like it a lot though.
Her agent released a statement which included this line
"She passed away in her Mark Ryden dress, Chanel boots, perfect make-up with Viktor & Rolfe black-lace eye lashes surrounded by friends and family," It's interesting to me that it seems to have been important to her to be fashionable and beautiful. Or perhaps it was her last artistic statement. More of her work here.
Skip straight to minute 1 to bypass a long, annoying shot of Yuki acting like a baby.

You're Coming Home With Me

Little Hercules strikes again.
Found a table in front of the 7-11 at midnight.
Since I've been looking for a desk for a month or so, it seemed like fate. Desk directly in my path=meant to be.
So I dragged the damned thing home and up two treacherous flights of stairs. Even with the pushups I've been doing, I had to stop 5 times in one block.
I'm afraid it might be much worse an idea than it seemed in the wet dark.
Let the morning decide.

My Evil Twin

Is going to eat up all of your cereal.
It's incredibly hot.
My rats are alternately laying on the floor of their cage,spreadeagled in a way that makes me want to check to see if they're still alive, or sniffing desperately at the paltry breeze coming from the fan.
The neighborhood just exploded in sirens. I'm going to go outside to get some relief and some groceries, and to see what's happening.
Because one can only make the very best shopping choices at 1 am.