Hey, everybody! I'm back from a conference in Kobe that I had to attend this past weekend! You know, I have a theory; these conferences are specifically designed to break you down and make you think that you're a horrible teacher, but by the end of them, you come out feeling rejuvenated and motivated enough to take on the world. Such is the life of an English teacher in Japan. And that's my random thought of the day…

Raya: I'm glad you came back to your senses…Matt…c'mon, get real! I mean, I don't even like the guy…

chyp: I like to keep people guessin', for the most part. Not even I know who this guy is…


James looked suspiciously around as he examined the surroundings of the power company; he felt as if he was being stared at by almost everyone in the building. He cautiously, but confidently, walked into the office of the person in charge, the person who actually had the ability to get things done. On the front of the door only read, "Sam Russo." He was about to enter when he was stopped by an old lady wearing headphones.

"I'm sorry," she said, holding James by the arm, "you can't go in unless you have an appointment."

"I have an appointment," James said, trying to control himself. "I'm here to see the person in charge of my electricity. I'm sick of them putting me off like I'm not important."

"What's your name?" the lady asked.

"James," James replied. "James Armstrong."

"Jane Armstrong…I don't remember your name on the appointment list," the lady said. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to make another appointment."

"Not Jane," James said coolly, "James. Wait a minute! It's you! You're the person I talked to on the phone earlier! You kept mistaking my name! I know you remember that!"

"No," she said, "it doesn't ring a bell. Now if you don't mind…"

"I do mind," James said, freeing himself from the lady's hold. "I have an appointment, no matter what you have to say, with all due respect, and I'm going in, so have a good day."

"You can't go in unless…" the lady began.

With a stern look from James, the lady's headset literally flew off of her head and landed on her desk with a rather loud crash. She looked bewildered, but didn't suspect James of the deed. She turned and hurried back to her desk, thinking that the cord must have snatched it back. James took a deep breath and calmed himself down before opening the door.

"May I help you?" came a voice from the other side of the door.

"You're a woman?" James exclaimed as he found himself face to face with a woman.

"Last time I checked," she answered.

She looked to be in her early thirties, but was nevertheless very attractive. James figured that her looks may have been what got her to her position, but he kept that information to himself. She had shoulder length blond hair, which she kept tied up in a tightly wrapped bun, and wore professional looking glasses that only seemed to add to her beauty. They enhanced her blue eyes, which coordinated perfectly with her navy blue business suit.

Her looks, combined with the fact that she was not a man, completely took James by surprise. He had not been expecting this all; his game plan had included dealing with a snobbish old man with whom he was sure to argue. Now, the whole foundation of his strategy had been rocked. But he was still determined to get his problems solved.

"Sam?" he asked.

"Samantha," she explained simply. "I prefer Sam. It surprises people when they barge into my office. Now, about your problem…Mister…"

"Armstrong," James said. "James Armstrong."

"Right," Samantha said, flipping through her files until she found the right one. As she glanced through the report, the expression on her face changed into one of slight disbelief. "Can you tell me how this happened?"

"Like I've said before," James said, "nothing happened. The lights just…exploded."

"Mr. Armstrong," Samantha asked, "are you aware of how absurd that sounds? Lights just don't explode, no matter what you say."

"I don't have to give you any real explanations," James said firmly. "The only reason I'm even here is because I've had to call too many times, just to end up talking to some tape recorder, or get an actual person who can't even remember people's names!"

"Well, Mister Armstrong…"

"Jimmy."

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Jimmy."

"Okay, Jimmy," Samantha said nonchalantly, "we can't cover your 'exploded' lights if we don't get a reason. We've been busy lately. A lot of people have been calling in about all sorts of problems. I hate to break it to you, but you're not the only person who lives here in Atlanta."

"Mrs. Russo…" James said with a slight smirk and a stern look.

"Miss," Samantha corrected. "And call me Sam."

"Sam," James continued, "I just need the lights fixed. I'm about to start back to school and I just don't have the time for this. I already told you what happened with the lights. They're old. We probably had a power surge or something. And by the way, I'm the only person I care about in Atlanta right now."

"A college man," Samantha said with a smile. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy. I'll send a few of my boys to your place this weekend and look at your lights, as well as your electricity in the rest of your house. In return, though, I'd like to take you out for dinner."

"Well that's very nice of you to…WHAT?" James exclaimed, clearly taken aback.


WHAT? How is it that Jimmy manages to get all of these females interested in him? Is it his 'charm' or what? Tune in next time, 'cuz I'ma still be here!