It’s Pronounced Dumass

I can’t really explain why I’m back.  It’s becoming clear that my History BA has decapitated the word ‘never’ from my sparse, words that don’t start with F, lexicon.

It does get old thou, harping on this fair nation that’s just trying to make its way in this cruel, uncaring, English speaking world.  Figure after 3 years I’ll cut ’em some slack and expect nothing in return, preferably with some red pepper paste on top.  Next to nothing.

The job search was a bit congested.

Someone is proposing a salt ban in nyc restaurants.  Good.  I’d love to see Times Square rockin’ on New Years Eve, a sea of goiters swaying as one.  Gross, but I’m pretty sure that the iodine in salt staves off a sweet neck bubble.  And iodine doesn’t seem that delicious on its own.

Traveling as an American gets annoying.  I’m all for America bashing or any country bashing for that matter, but it seems dimwitted to think that some guy you just met in a hostel who seems more interested his book than others, can fully explain why America is blah blah blah bad blah.  Don’t talk politics anymore and generally abhor people who do.  That’s not fair, but I just don’t want to hear it.  I will say that we are just plain fat.  It’s pretty rough when you can identify your countrymen by stretchy pants and the vertical udder.

On my last e2 reach around, I’d often fantasize about being home and running into some poor lost Korean and just being the biggest dick possible as sweet, vindictive payback.  Not a drunk Mel Gibson level dick, but just rude.  Then it actually happened and I totally folded.  Just don’t have it in me to hate someone based on nationality.  Lakers fans thou… I spit on your grave.

If you’re into hiking at all, Bill Bryson’s “A Walk In The Woods” is a great read.  Basic plot line is; 2 old guys who’re miserably out of shape decide to hike from Georgia to Maine on the something something trail.  Hilarity ensues.  First book I’ve read that consistently busts my gut.

Fellas.  You’re doing it all wrong.  Learn to give a decent massage.  It has been a new revelation to me, but a damn fine one.  Grape seed oil (they have it here) works well as lube and is non-harmful internally- if you get my drift.

It’s unacceptable that the Dude won an Oscar.  If anything they should give it to him retroactively for Tron.

And a high five to everyone on getting through the week.  Make it a high 10!  You can keep 5 and buy some oil to rub your lady down right.  That’s two plugs.

I don’t really have the attention span anymore to be coherent.  I’ll be biherent thou, or even omniherent.  Nah, omni’s no good.  Seems like a good way to get ECC wrapped around your junk.

Someone enterprising needs to start a biscuit and gravy joint.  Don’t look at me.  I can’t find my keys or virginity.  Never thought a lack of sausage would be a problem in Busan.

Breeze Burns is a misnomer.  Chokie Cookie is not.

Why is cheapo cheese better on sandwiches than the good stuff?

Does the “decending life line” bother anyone else.  Seems like a convenient way of not saying, “You’re living in a deathtrap if there’s a fire and good luck doing your first and most likely last attempt at reenacting Cliffhanger.”  Great flick.  The ‘life line’ also seems to run down all the exact same places on the building.  And I thought getting out of the subway door in Seomyeon was tough.  Could give it a test run, but would obviously get in trouble.  Don’t think the ‘just practicing’ excuse would fly.  However, the 97 fold up bicycles in the stairwell is A-OK!

Traveled a bit.  Almost died from Dengue Fever in Cambodia.  Indonesia was the only place I’d go back to.  Everywhere else I just felt like a walking wallet, but that’s the reality of travel these days.  Its all been done.  The trip didn’t seem that valuable until I returned home and had to listen to my friends/family wax poetic about… well, nothing really.  Same same, not different.  Talking to Americans about travel is a bit like talking to monkeys about interior decorating.  Just end up with shit on your walls.

2 weeks

Tomorrow will be 2 weeks of not smoking for moi.  Not sure why I quit, just read this book and decided it’d be worth a shot.  The book is Allen Carr’s “Easy Way to Stop Smoking”, which has to be the most retarded title ever for a pretty useful bunch of pages.  I like that he’s not a doctor.  Can’t deal with doctors.  They don’t think like normal people.  Just a dude who used to rock 5 packs a day then quit cold turkey without any withdrawl.  My experience using his method was similar, but with only a paltry 2 packs per day habit.  How the fuck do you smoke 5 packs a day?

Guess I’ll go into observations regarding the difference between smoking and not smoking here.

#1-  A lotta people smoke here.

#2-  I’m 97% less irritable/angry as a non-smoker.  Keep getting into situations where I know I should be angry, but just can’t be bothered.  It’s bizarre.

#3-  All of you are fucking idiots.  Every single fucking one of you.  There’s no exceptions.  Whenever I tell someone that I stopped smoking, doesn’t matter if they’re young, old, male, adjumma, whatever… the response is always, “Why?”  Maybe I spoke too soon on not being irritable cause that shit makes me wanna spontaneously start face-fucking people.

#4-  As far as Koreans are concerned; gaining weight = greater evil than smoking.  My coworkers made this clear while gorging on pig fat.

#5-  Nobody really gives a shit if you stopped smoking.  It’s either “you shouldn’t have smoked in the first place” or “why you getting all high and mighty on me?”

#6-  I don’t care if people smoke around me.  Chain smokers bother me less than the occasional smoker.  Not sure why.  Just seem like posers.  If it’s worth doing then you should be doing it constantly.  Have some conviction. you pussies.

#7-  My students bitched, bitched, bitched about my smoking.  I stopped.  Now they’ve forgot about it.  Fickle pickle fuckers.  If I want to start again, I’m lighting up in class.

#8-  One of the big bonuses of stopping is supposed to be getting your sense of smell/taste back.  This is not a good thing here.

#9-  My newest game consists of watching TV.  Pretty simple start there.  Whenever I see an actor/actress smoking I give myself about 3 seconds to decide if they’re legit or a poser.  No real way to verify this, but it’s fun to criticize people on the boob tube for holding a fag like a… non smoker.

#10-  Free time.  This is a double edge sword.  If you figure it takes between 5 minutes to burn one down and you’re doing that 20-40 times/day, that’s somewhere around 100 to 200 minutes/day.  I’ve been filling the gap with naps.  Although my coworkers hate on my napping, which I’ll get into another time.  Ruthless bastards.

That’s about it for the list.  10 is a nice round number, ask anybody.

Im Back Bitches

I’ve been on hiatus.  Just didn’t have any motivation to slog this crap out. 

Last Friday, I officially packed it in.  Spent all my classes making paper cranes with the kids.  There’s look pretty good, mine look like snot.  Been practicing though. 

Went to Gyeongju this weekend with the woman and the bike.  I’ve seen about 1,400 blogs on hiking/temples/this/that/the other fucking thing… horseshit!  Rather look at your latest dental x-rays.  So I will proceed to bitch about everything.  After all, I’m American.  It’s what we do.  We bitch, talk too loud and could careless about Canadian geography.  Newfoundland’s west coast, right? 

Driving to Gyeongju was about as pleasant as playing tonsil hockey with a cattle prod.  What the fuck.  I know that orderly planning isn’t exactly Korean’s strong point, but the routes there are abysmal.  Maybe the freeway planner, way back when, was just too hungover to do any work so he gave it to his 3 year old son who went ape-shit on it with a 64 pack of crayolas.  Maybe the planner wasn’t feeling so well after eating too much spaghetti, tossed his cookies on the plan, and passed this off as a topographical map to his boss.  See boss, the tomato chunks are mountains and the noodles are the roads. 

Jackasses.

Could argue that a map would have helped, but I had a map of Gyeongju that was extremely precise if you looked at it through a kaleidoscope. 

Tastes Like Finger Ale. Made a batch of Octoberfest Ale on Friday night which turned out really well.  Smelled like heaven.  Unfortunately, the shit Korean equipment I was using decided not to function properly and began leaking.  Handled it like any red blooded male should.  Went into the emergency stairwell, closed the door and belted out a few “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK”s, then calmly re-approached the problem.  Ended up “sanitizing” my left arm and sticking it into the beer to get at the fucked valve to fix it.  This is a big no-no, any sort of bacteria isn’t welcome in homebrew flavor country, but it worked and I haven’t noticed any fingernail taste yet.

Back to Gyeongju.  Went to Gyeongju World, which is an amusement park.  Had one good ride, but it was fun to dork around.  Reminded me of Oaks Park in Portland, but shinier with less carnies.  They freak me out.  Tried to follow excellent tourist map back to hostel, couldn’t find a stairwell to yell in.  Just muttered a lot in helmet.

Finally got back.  Informed the chesty one that I must imbibe on chicken and beer.  She suggested soju, she’s a keeper.  Meandered into the worst chicken/beer/soju restaurant on the peninsula.  Sat for 20 minutes with no service, watching a SURLY (and I mean this old bag was gnarly, even for an adjumma) lady fry shit then drop it on the floor then put it in take out boxes.  Finally, went to fridge to grab some booze, got accosted by bitchjumma who couldn’t understand “gimme some fucking soju” in Korean.  Luckily, there were some drunk, rowdy adjossis who reveled in giving her shit.  They were helpful.  Proceed to get hammered, considered dashing, but decided against it.  She wouldn’t have noticed.  Next time.

Went to a potluck on Sunday night.  Not my shindig, so I had to keep my trap shut.  Really wanted to lay into people for coming to a potluck, but not cooking anything.  I mean how fucking dense are you?  Awesome, I actually cooked and you brought Hite.  Fucking sweet.  How about a door in the face?  Next time, we’ll just cook, the few of us that did, and you fuckers can go get pig fat and Cass.  Sometimes I wish I was Buzzsaw, and life was just one big episode of The Running Man (sans the part where Arnold cuts my junk in half with my own chainsaw).

In conclusion, fuck Monday.

Lie Day

Today is not April Fools’ here in Korea.  It’s Lie Day.  When I walked into faculty room this morning I thought it was Everyone Beat Your Student’s Ass Day.  Every single teacher, minus principal, was going ape shit on one kid or another.  They even switched kids.  Big swingers orgy of physical and verbal abuse.  All that was missing was some BSDM gear and a video camera.  Damn good thing they don’t have guns here or it would Columbine Day twice a week.

Sophomores in first class had prank all set up.  Al-Qaeda, my best story-telling student, offers some candy.  Should have looked, but was talking to kids while opening wrapper.  Popped it in mouth and bite down.  Class erupts in hysteria.  Strange texture and bad taste.  Yup, that’s an eraser.  They were nice enough to cover it in marker.  Good one Al-Qaeda. 

Said fuck the textbook, lets just have Al-Qaeda tell us a story.  His version of The Odyssey; “Teacher at Lotte Giants game.  Drunk!  Climb wall and run.  Very fast.  Hit other team pitcher in face.  Very famous in Busan.  Everyone cheers and drink soju.  Run out and throw bomb!  Boom!  Everyone die.  Then go with me.  We team now.  Go to teacher’s house.  Go to teacher’s house 2 in Japan.  Throw bomb.  Go to Dokdo.  3rd house.  Go to teacher college.  Boom!  Russia.  Boom!  Steal atom bomb from Russia.  Go to moon.  See Mars people.  They say, “Gooweegooo”, but we don’t understand so kill mars people.  Then back to moon.  Teacher’s 4th house.  Meet Armstrong.  We new team.  Start society.  Drink soju.”  Wish I had a picture of the diagram that went along with this.  Nice mural of destruction.

Like everyone at a high school, I decide to take it out on the freshman.  Next class, entered with stack of paper and serious look.  Wrote on board that today was a pop quiz that would determine 50% of their English grade for the year.  Lots of whining, but they submit without too much fuss.  Topic was the historical relationship between Korea and America.  End test abruptly after 40 minutes.  There’s about 5 minutes left in class.  Write “Happy 만 우 절” on board after collecting papers.  They were PISSED.  Settled down eventually, but got a lot of “TEACHA! PUCK YOU!  YOU WHITE DEBIL!”  Stupid freshmen. 

After lunch, one of the other teachers left a rice cake on the window sill.  Almost everyone was in the room and said window was open.  A glorious magpie, embracing the spirit of April 1st, decided to steal the rice cake.  Bird landing in sill causes mass panic.  Looked like someone threw a case of Olde English in a chimpanzee cage.  I saw the bird land and didn’t see the imminent danger.  They were so spooked that they broke the sliding door during the stampede.  Glass went everywhere and door smashed down stairs.  Was left cackling in chair and clapping for magpie.

Happy Lie Day to you, victorious magpie.  You are my ally.  Enjoy your prize.

Navel Lint

Can’t remember anything from this weekend.  Pretty standard stuff.  Woman painted one set of toes pink.  Looks a bit fruity.

Had discussion with friend about the mysterious phenomenon known as belly button lint.  Navel lint, if you’re feeling wordy.

10 grueling minutes of research later, I have found its scientific explanation.  Turns out some guy in Australia did a bunch of research into it.  He is an Ig Nobel Prize winner.

Dr. Karl Kruszelnicki is a fucking cool guy.  Stolen from Wiki;

He holds degrees in Mathematics, Biomedical Engineering, Medicine and Surgery, and he has studied Astrophysics, Computer Science and Philosophy.  He has worked as a physicist, labourer, roadie for bands, car mechanic, film-maker, hospital scientific officer, biomedical engineer, TV weatherman, taxi driver, and medical doctor.

Ridiculous! 

The basic conclusions from his study were that belly button lint is made up of clothing fibers, dead skin and body hairs.  Most of the fibers move up from the underwear, which was contrary to his expectations.  Caused by “frictional drag of body hair” on underwear.  Women don’t get it as much as men.  Not even close.

Also said that lint is usually blue-gray hue.  Not sure if I completely agree with findings.  I used to have a red t-shirt that would produce a rocking little lint ball everytime. 

Usually, I give my belly button lint away as a present to lady friends.  It’s classy.  It says, “I care enough to make this for you with my body hair’s frictional drag on my underwear.  If you save enough of it, you can make a hat.” 

Don’t hold a candle to this motherfucker.  Graham Barker, Guinness World Record Holder for Navel Fluff Collection….

 

You sick bastard.  Interesting though.  Must have rocked green shirts till 1994 when he got into a red phase then returned to normalcy in 2001.  Considering how much money I would need to eat it all.  Would like to say large sum, but in college I drank 12 oz. of tabasco for $37.  Not worth it.  Threw up into toilet, and water splashed in eyes.  Was blinded and fell down cafeteria stairs in front of half the school.  Good times.

Eureka!  Mr. Barker claims that the color change was due to changing towel colors!  

Feel like I’m on a first name basis with these guys now.  My buddy Graham keeps a beard collection as well.  Here’s his sites; 

http://www.feargod.net/fluff.html    and  www.feargod.net/beard.php

Mystery solved.

On a different subject, if you ever get ahold of nose hair clippers and decide to trim up your nostrils, don’t mow down the whole forest.  They must serve some purpose even if they make an annoying whistling noise from time to time.  My nose has been uber fucked.

Teacher is Above Level

Pretty standard Monday morning.  Didn’t crash bike, wasn’t late, and relatively sober.  Nice weather.  Had a good weekend.  Clobbered liver on Friday, shot some people on Saturday, slept a lot, made some pulled pork sandwiches on Sunday, then watched Eastbound and Down.

Bag Lady shuffled right by me.  Someone cleaned and waxed the crappy hardwood floors.  School is giant, dry skating rink.  Doing sweet power slides to first class.  Stewardess, the greatest/perkiest student ever, pops out in front of me pointing finger.  Disengage power slide, slip and skid to a stop.

TEACHER!! I SAW YOU!! ABOVE LEVEL ABOVE LEVEL ABOVE LEVEL!!!!

Okay.  See you in class.

Slide open door to first class and am immediately showered in ABOVE LEVEL!!!  40 kids in unison.  I’m jealous, I can’t get them to do anything at the same time.  Kind of dumbfounded.  Kids are having great, great time with this.  Figure go with it.

A little background on Stewardess.  She wants to be a doctor, but I think she’d be the best stewardess ever.  Explained.

She hushes class from their chorus.

Teacher!  I saw you.  GIRLFRIEND!!  ABOVE LEVEL ABOVE LEVEL ABOVE LEVEL ABOVE LEVEL!!!  HAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH!!!!

Kids are cackling like I just peed my pants.  Ask for a little more explanation and get the jist.  Stewardess believes that my girlfriend, who’s not Korean, is way too hot for me.  Have no problem with this, but realize that I’m going to be eating ABOVE LEVEL sandwiches all day.

What can go wrong?  Ask Stewardess to describe girlfriend.  Students are very impressed with her summary.  She’s not satisfied.  Runs up to board, grabs chalk, scribbles furiously.  Caricature of girlfriend looks like Jessica Rabbit (Roger Rabbit’s wife… you know… from Who Framed Roger Rabbit… Bob Hoskins was in it… Christopher Lloyd was the judge that hated ‘toons’ and dipped them in barrels of chemicals with “not just ordinary” gloves… I digress).  Draws me next.  Look like Quasimoto with ebola.  Happy class.  Continue talking for rest of period about how inadequate I am compared to her.  She’s Lee Hyo Ri (or Lee, can’t remember… the fucking singer) and I’m E Myung Bak.  She’s a supermodel and I am the monster from The Host.  Learn that I am not housebroken as well.

This keeps going for next 3 classes.  Ever play the telephone game?  Tried it with 500 bored high school students that know where you are all day?  Throw in some freshly buffed hardwoods and you’ve got a party.    By last period, my gal’s tits are rumored to be the size of China, but not dirty like China.  Very clean.  She’s also 8 feet tall and has 4 sets of perfect teeth.  Not sure how that’s hot, but they were digging it.  Exhausted at end of day and beginning to wonder if Stewardess has a point.  Only have one set of teeth.  Not perfect.  Kid in last period class asks how to get ABOVE LEVEL.  Has look in his eyes like I hold some ancient secret.  Give him the truth.  Learn to cook and give lots of head, but not shitty head.  That’s detrimental to the cause.  Skip explanation of head.

Off the the grocery store I go.  Real spaghetti and garlic bread tonight.  Like being ABOVE LEVEL.

PSAT’s and Van Damme vs. Seagal

Woke up late.  Got to work late.  Ran 10 red lights on way to school.  Top search for this garbage is “blue schlong”.  Coteacher informed me that there’s no class today because of PSAT’s for kids.  Leaving at noon, 3 hours to kill.  Perfect time to begin writing about the great debate.

Steven Seagal Vs. Jean Claude Van Damme

I think I’ve seen 95% of their movies.  80’s action flicks are incredible and watching B movie stars careers fading away is also awesome.  My fascination with them stems from a drinking game I used to play at home with my compadres.

How to play Steven Seagal Vs. Jean Claude Van Damme game;

Two player required.  One argues Segal, one Van Damme.  The object of the game is to successfully argue who would win in a fight, using their feature film titles as evidence.  Each player gets one turn each round.  The player that runs out of movie titles for their argument loses and has to take a 4 footer or a 5 count of sour mash. (A third play can be added, usually argues Chuck Norris, must be a B list action star)

Example;  Player 1=Seagal. Player 2=Van Damme.

P1- “Seagal is “Above the Law”.  He’d kill VD and get a promotion”

P2- “Van Damme has a “Lionheart” and cannot die”

P1- “Then Seagal would rub herpies on Van Damme’s balls, causing a “Fire Down Below”

P2- “VD is a “Cyborg” and has no balls”  (This is a good point, P1 is penalized)

P1- “Seagal will be angry that VD’s balls are “Out of Reach”, he’ll be “Out for Justice”

P2- “Won’t bother VD, he’s a “Hard Target”

And it continues like that for another 20 minutes.  Helps to have a peanut gallery to boo poor responses.  Being wasted is another key factor.

THE GREAT DEBATE

Part I:  Seagal vs. Van Damme — How Many Movies?

VD= Actor in 39 flicks.  From 1984 to present day with one in post production.  Writer or writing contribution in 8 films.  Producer 6 movies.  Editor 3 movies, and Director of 2.  Made appearance in Friends as himself, suggested a threesome.  Been on Letterman 3 times.

Seagal= Actor in 36.  Got started in 1984 as Martial Arts Coordinator. Producer 32.  Writer 9.  Wrote or performered soundtrack 6.  Director 1.  Hosted Saturday Night Live 6 times (once with Michael Bolton as musical act!  That’s entertainment!)  Made cameo on Rosanne as well.

How the numbers pan out.  VD +3 acting in movies with moving pictures, +3 Editing (I smell stat padding), and +1 directing.  Seagal “Pistol Whipped” Van Damme in Producer category, +26.  Hard to give him points for this, but +6 for soundtracks.

Not sure how to interpret this.  Can barely add in the first place.  I call a draw.  Seagal has a huge edge in Producing, but I suspect that’s because he’s the only one who wants to work with himself.

Part II:  Box Office Gross Figures

Van Damme –

Total Grosses; America = $448,682,976.

Worldwide = $728,874.324

AverageGross=$21,365,856.

Average Opening Weekend Gross = $6,585,579

These These numbers are a little skewed by the fact that he appeared in some of the movies, Last Action Hero and Breakin’, but wasn’t credited.  I’ll let it fly.

Seagal-

Total Grosses; America = $489,737,139.

Worldwide=$730,302,559

Average Gross= $32,649,143

Average Opening Weekend= $8,544,115

Maybe should be a little higher on Total Gross and lower on Average Gross.  Can’t find data on his straight to video pictures he’s been making in the last few yars.  Still a decent benchmark.

Results.  Seagal has the edge in almost every category.  If numbers don’t like, Seagal is the bankable bet between the two in the States..  Notice that Van Damme’s Worldwide Gross is nearly even, call it a tie for world domination.

Part III.  The Bowel Movement

Apparently there is an underground movement that I shall coin “The Bowel Movement”.  Akin to my fascination, its main concern is The Great Debate.

Examples;

http://www.killermovies.com/forums/archive/index.php/t-337136-jean-claude-van-damm-prime-vs-steven-segal-prime-ufc-cage-fight.html

http://tecnologia21.com/en/curiosidades/van-damme-vs-steven-seagal-la-mejor-pelea-de-todos-los-tiempos/

Part IV.  Funny Pictures

JCVD

Van Damme rocks world’s biggest stapler.  Potentially his straight to video DVD launcher

.

What The Fuck.  Where’s your pants?  Calling Senator now to ask for legislation banning whatever this is.

Excellent.  Would like to buy unflexible high kick guy a beer.

Good luck sleeping tonight.

Call Guinness!

Call PETA!

Mental note.  Die before this happens.

SEAGAL

Recommended beverage before slap fighting of any kind. Reminds me of http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs

NoNo, blue schlong and bag lady

On Friday, I taught a new freshman class that was about 20 kids.  I’m used to about 40/class and have to say I prefer having more personalities in the room, but that’s neither here nor there.  This particular class is about 95% girls with 3 undersized, pale and angst ridden looking chaps in the back.  As soon as I started in on my “hi im a stupid foreigner that will misspell words, leave early and always be off topic” speech, one boy starts shaking his head rather vigorously.

And he kept shaking.  Until I stopped talking.  I like this kid immediately.  He hates me, hates English.  Excellent.  Name?  Nope.  Just more head shaking with this mug on his face that reminds me of DeeBo from Friday.  I name him.  His name is NoNo.  He is the truth.

Bad students rock.  The worse, the better in my opinion.  However, NoNo is not a bad student.  He’s fucking Gandhi.  I’m not aware of non violent protest being taught in the Korean Educational System, so this kid must be reincarnated Gandhi.

“NoNo, can you open your book to page 12?”  Me. 

Keeps perfect eye contact, not a word, 1,000 yard-just did 2 tours in ‘Nam stare.  Without looking down, he opens book to page 12.  Impressive.  He tears out page 12.  Interesting.  He tears page 12 in half.  Its not a good page anyways.  He puts page 12 in his mouth.  Thinking of my black lab and his frothy tennis balls.  He eats half of page 12.  Still perfect eye contact.  Chews with mouth open.  I’ve never laughed so hard. 

I’ve witnessed history.  NoNo, without saying a god damn thing, has explained to me very clearly that he’s tired of this learning English bullshit and that his textbook is only worthwhile as a good source of fiber. 

Monday.  New schedule day.  5 minutes to first period.  No schedule has appeared.  Rage level 0.  In 10 minutes, doofy coworker will ask me why I’m not teaching my class.  Rage level +1.

Saw Watchmen.  I read the comic back in the day, makes movie much worse than it is.  Don’t read comic beforehand.  The stuff they skipped will really piss you off, but a couple of the scenes were captured masterfully.  The Comedian and Rorschact were done quite well.  They’re also the best characters in the book.  Not a bad flick, especially if you’re into blue uncircumsized schlong.  Loads of that. 

Coworker was early, only showed up 5 mins after class started.  Informed me that he will give me my “table tennis” next period.  Consider using paddle on his ass till it resembles blue schlong. 

Blue schlong.

My students rock.  They’ve realized I’m not into the textbook and begun to shape their own classes.  Talking about abortion, what dirt tastes like and bitchslapping is immensely satisfying.  First class was pretty rowdy, don’t like yelling over kids.  Just grabbed my chalk and folder, told them they were being assholes and I get paid whether or not I want to deal with their shit.  Began walking out of class.  Students succumb to Jedi mind trick and chill out. 

Rage level now 6.  +5 points to the “bag lady”.  I have two nemesi at school.  Bag lady, coined after the crazy hobo lady who used to live by friend’s house in Portland, ruined my lunch.  She had some sort of problem with the food that I selected.  Proceeded to stare at my tray and make comments to “Lung Cancer”, other teacher who has lung cancer, for 20 minutes.  Not sure of Bad Lady’s occupation here.  Possibly Head of Being a Bitch Department.  Probable tenure.  Normally, I ignore her shit, but its Monday.  If I get her labia in my face today, I will be pulling 12 inch pubes and mothballs out of my hair for the rest of the week.  Had enough.  Bag Lady doesn’t speak English, often bitches about me not speaking enough Korean.  Why do I want to speak Korean?  I have this wonderful barrier between my hearing drums and the constant oral sewage…  The office phone has been ringing for 3 minutes, no one picking it up.  Rage +1, level 7.

Asked Bag Lady if it was okay for me to eat.  Asked her what her problem was.  Asked her if she wanted my job.  Asked her if she like blue schlong. Kept staring.  Slam chopsticks on tray.  Slam tray on finished with tray area.  Slam door.  Slam Bag Lady’s face in car door repeatedly.  Not true. Plotting revenge on Bag Lady.  Need to locate cubby hole in which her shoes reside.  This aggression will not stand.

close call

Fucking asshole cut me off.  Stopped.  Glared at asshole who parked 5 meters away.  Contemplated getting off bike and bludgeoning them with helmet till their face looked spaghetti mixed with raw meat.  Remembered I was late.  Real late.  Swore (in English, fuck that Korean noise) at person exiting car.  Drove to school.

Some people say “culture shock”, which is a polite way of skirting the fact that it’s natural to think people from other cultures are cum dumpsters because they don’t abide by their own country’s norms of behavior.  Personally, I don’t believe in the concept.  It’s just natural for people not to like each other for being different.  My “rage scale” is a much simpler way to classify the same phenomenon.

At this moment, my “rage rating” is about 3 (out of 10).  The vehicular homicide attempt earlier put me at a 2, and then the obligatory comments from my coworkers to starts the day always racks up a 1.  I expect this 1 point everyday thou, so it doesn’t seem quite as bad. 

Dry eyes.  In the morning, my eyes are red.  To the vultures I share work space with, this is like John Belushi’s fresh carcass washing up on the beach after he attempted to eat 30 lbs of sausage and bird seed underwater.  It’s just too hard to pass up. 

This is not theraputic at all.  Rage now at 4.

Comments;

“Your eyes are red.”  Usually their pick up line before they ruffie (ruffy? don’t know how to spell that) my coffee flavor sugar and start running the hangook train on my cracker ass.

“You look tired.”  I am, thank you.  Would you like to check my prostate?

“What did you do last night?”  This isn’t even a question.  It’s a set up.  Similar to this jokes set up;  You have a kind chin… the kind I’d like to smack my balls against.

“Did you drink last night?” or “Where did you drink last night?” or “What time did you stop drinking last night?” or for the kindy level speakers “Drink?  You!” with the hand motion.  This also is a question with no correct answer.  I’ve never actually tried to answer this seriously.  Wait I did once.  I said, “No.”  Didn’t matter so now I just fuck with them. 

Bad response.  No.

Good response.  No, I didn’t drink last night, but I did bang this cheap hooker raw dog a month ago and now I’ve got HIV and it’s making my eyes red.  Illicits same response as “no”, but is way more fun.

Theatrical response.  Yeah, I did.  I drank until I couldn’t see then woke up next to your wife… and kids.  Then proceed to do Vader impression.  “Min Soo (or Gee or Jung or Hyun or Kia) I am your father.”  This also gets same response as “no”. 

Factual response.  Yup, I drank while soaking my hands in bleach.  I’m worried about getting Hepatitis from one of you fine fellows because no at this school washes their hands after dropping ass and you touch everything.  

Honest response.  Yes, I drank some beer with dinner then I had sexy time until 2am cause I don’t give a fuck about my job performance.  Neither do you. 

Crackers are always bitching here about Koreans saying shit about them, in front of them.  Fuck that.  Just do it back.  If you don’t know enough slang to tell your boss that his tie is ugly, his pencil lacks lead, his kids look like the ebola monkey from Outbreak, and his haircut is the reason he has to pay for sex… then I don’t know what to tell you.  This is a game I play with them.  I feel better now, rage down to 2.

Rage now at 4.  Coworkers just scored 1 point each.  Cowerkor uno “You will have 22 classes per week.”  Cuwarktor dues “You will have 16 classes per week.”  I should start ranking them.

swollen elbow

My elbow is fucked.  Instigating tussles when you’ve had 2 bottles of soju and enough whiskey to kill a buffalo isn’t always the brightest idea.  Going to get it drained today, which should be fun.

I have one horror story involving Korean hospitals, surgery and tactful doctors.  Last year, I noticed that I had a big lump that was located up and to the right a little bit from my groin.  Being such a healthy person, I automatically assumed it was a tumor and I had 6 months to live.  So I went in to DDong Hospital in Yangsan.  At first, the doctor didn’t know was it was and following the doctor’s manual here, just gave me a shitload of antibiotics and said come back in a week if it doesn’t work.  Didn’t work.  The lump was twice the size and had several new friends.  Back to Yangsan.  Different doctor this time.  Mind you, none of these guys speak English and there’s a nurse translating for them.  Doctor number 2 says it could be nothing or I’m fucked, gives me option of “biopsy”.  The nurse explains the biopsy procedure.  According to her rendition, it involved inserting needles into The Leader of the Lumps and getting some tissue samples to test for malignancy.  I can recall thinking, “No problem, needles aren’t bad.”  My guess was that they would do the operation sometime in the following week.  So 10 minutes later I’m all prepped for surgery…

The Operation.  I’m lying on my back, staring into those big three lights that you see all the time in the movies and my stomach begins to sink.  I couldn’t see that well from lying down on my back, but am alarmed that I don’t see a single fucking needle anywhere.  Nurse informs me that they must shave around spot to be excavated.  Korean man, ajosshi, doctor, whatever you want to call him begins shaving pubes with pink disposable razor.  Made a joke motioning to one of the 4 female nurses of whom, 3 are staring at my junk, that I’d prefer their delicate touch with the razor.  Everyone laughs, doc keeps shaving pubes.  He held this head very close to the razor while doing so, thinking that maybe he has bad eyesight.  Wondered how much this would cost me with a very strange, most likely non existent Korean male prostitute who does fetish pube shaving on crackers.  The pubes are finishy.

Standard Procedure.  Alcohol swab and area is covered with a blanket that’s missing a little square.  Staring at lights.  My Korean listening ability was shit and still is.  Get distinct feeling I’ve been abducted by the aliens from Mars Attacks and they’re experimenting on me.  Everyone is babbling at the same time.  Staring at lights.  Doc gives me thumbs up and a hearty “OK!”, and it begins.  Local anesthetic kicks in, but develop distinct itch on balls that I can’t scratch.  Want to ask nurse for assistance, wishing I was fluent.

Goes Downhill.  The doc is doing something, I can’t see.  Area is numb, but I’m pretty fucking sure that I’m not getting poked with needle.  Tugging sensation.  Sound isn’t right.  Staring at lights.  Tug, tug, tug.  Stops.  Now pulling.  Now gross noise.  Starting to hyperventilate, panic, and desiring a cigarette.  Out of the corner of my eye I see a bloody surgical knife get passed to one of the nurses.  I imagine the eyes in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre fleeting back and forth.  Nurse hands doc tweezers.  Up to this point, doc hasn’t said one word in English.

He clasps my swollen lymph node in tweezers, waves it in front of my face and says with a big shit eating grin, “LOOK WHAT WE CUT OUT OF YOU!!!”  Too much for me.  Staring at lights that are beginning to go dark.  Passed out.  Wake up to nurse who didn’t shave my pubes smacking my cheek, and about 6 medical staff yelling, “OK?! OK?!”  Was OK?!  Not happy, but OK?!  Usually, I’ll lose my temper at the drop of a hat if I feel I’ve been fucked over, but I was a bit more concerned about my grape sized lymph node that  had just been FUCKING STOLEN.  Spot where they hijacked part of my anatomy really hurts.  Stitches in groin not sexy, not cool. 

Gingerly put clothes on.  Limp through lobby.  Get in Korean friend’s car.  He immediately starts giving me shit, and asking if I miss my “mommy”.  12 gauge.  Need a double barrel 12 gauge.  Look at hospital that stole my lymph node, make mental note to call in airstrike.  This aggression will not stand.  Friend drives me to SuckTown hagwon.  Wince and swear through 3 classes, go home, smoke 400 cigarettes and plot revenge.

End of line.