ChasingDonguri

I found this the other day.

Here’s a game of some sort hanging out on bar street in Gunsan.  I don’t really know how you play it or what it does, but I know that most popular drunk game here is a ball machine that you punch, so I don’t believe it’s complicated or time consuming.  I think you push the buttons below Asian Jay Leno and it induces a seizure or something.  I don’t do a lot of research.

I used to think that Asian countries had a kind of cultural ADD where if something wasn’t flamboyant, loud, and over-the-top then there was little chance of capturing the people’s attention.  I don’t think that’s true anymore, and maybe it’s because I re-watched The Last Samurai and the Japanese would spend entire days just planting rice (when they weren’t hacking up white people).

The rainbow explosions and giant robot sculptures are just a way of expressing themselves confidently and proudly in public.  It’s like when fraternities draw penises in sharpie on their freshmen’s foreheads after a night of keg stands and bong loads.  Probably.

I’m not normally religious, but it’s Rosh Hashanah and that means I have ten days to get all my asking for forgiveness done so I can get into that Book of Life because I really need a good year.  I understand that this is probably the same as throwing a quarter in the mall fountain to get good luck, but I might as well attempt as much as my pride can handle.

I was a local restaurant today and the waiter had a t-shirt that said, “Stable relationships are for horses.  Yee haw!”  He may smell like kimchi and ramen, but I’ll bet you money that man’s either a pimp or he’s in a deeply commited relationship with a horse.

I don’t mind the textbooks we use for school.  They’re interesting and done well enough that I really don’t have any complaints about the content.  But like the post yesterday, my kids were working in their book when I found something that caught my eye.

I connected the one I have a problem with.  Though to be fair, my students all got that one right.

I was talking with my advanced kids about my Xbox today.  Not as a part of the curriculum (not yet anyway), but just casually while waiting for a student to finish up a worksheet.  Then I got these questions: “Do you have TV?” “Do you have joystick?”  And I laughed.  No, my dear students, I do not.  I call up all my friends at Hogwarts and they make my Xbox come alive and it yells at us what is happening in the game.  All it takes is a few magic spells and my dictionary of British slang.

I’m teaching a new book at my school.  The textbook was written and edited in Korea.  This was the very first dialogue to learn.

Korea has accepted its own stereotypes.  Have some pride in your country, Korea!  I’m not denying that either your computer games or your science is lackluster, because they are certainly not.  But brag a little.  You’re the birthplace of taekwondo.  You have spices that will light your intestines on fire.  Your 50 million citizens are living in a country the size of Indiana.  Your hair is thick and gorgeous.  Your country can outdrink at least half the countries in Europe.  Put some national pride in your textbooks.  That’s all we have in ours.

This weekend I was complaining about some of the foreign teachers in Korea who are almost 30 that haven’t fully matured yet.  Then today, I was the most scared I’ve been in months because I was worried my Xbox 360 broke.  I’m really in no place to judge.

Hey, here’s a sign that caught my attention!

The classiest construction warning.  Here, like a man trained on years of discipline and order, he salutes as you walk by, letting you know that there’s construction going on in case you can’t see the three story half-finished building and four blocks of fence in front of you.  Though to be fair, I’ve looked at a lot of construction workers in Korea, and I’ve never seen one without a stain on his shirt, much less a full suit and tie.

I had a racist when I first came to Korea, and I’m ashamed.  But as I passed my first construction site I wondered, without any Mexicans, who does construction in Korea?  Turns out it’s Koreans.  Maybe I’m more Texan than I originally thought.

Over these past few months, I’ve found myself getting more and more violent towards the fruit flies that roam my apartment.  At first, I would shoo them away.  Then I would use a paper towel to kill and quickly flush down the toilet.  Now, I’m just mashing them with my thumb and wiping them on the floor, as if a warning to other flies about the dangers of trespassing like the indigenous people of Indiana Jones movies.  Soon, I’m going to capture a spider, tie little knives to its legs, and throw the fruit flies into a Tupperware arena to fight to the death.

Hey, did you know that there are rules in an elevator?  It’s for your safety!

I don’t know if it’s a good or bad sign that the last picture has a ghost carrying away the body on the stretcher.  No practicing ballet or prank phone calls.  Have a safe, uneventful trip up the two floors.  And as a future warning, based on this picture, woodland creatures have no idea how to use technology.

300th post!  Yay!  Odds are good we’ll get to 400 before I go home!

Sometimes when I talk to old friends I haven’t seen in a while, they ask me what I’m up to.  I reply Korea, and then I get the important question, “What were you doing in Korea?”  Teaching sounds so boring.  I always want to make something up.

“What was I doing in Korea?  I was a US secret agent, hiding in the forests of the DMZ.  I was naked except for camo face paint and a sled made out of dismantled landmines.  I kept warm at night with my burning passion for revenge against North Korea, an emotion I gained after watching two and a half documentaries, as I had a dinner date and had to stop one short.

“My job was to wait in the trees or swamps and ambush North Korean spies attempting to cross the border.  The only weapons I had were my wits, a desire for a better future, and a full artillery of guns, blades, and explosives which were airdropped once a week by the CIA pretending to be Japanese tourists who lost control of their hot air balloon.

“When I finished each day, I would cut the off scrotums of my enemies, glue them together, and mail them to Kim Jong Il, who would proudly display them in his own personal art museum.  While my gifts were tacky and a personal attack, he has a knack of  appreciating all forms and styles of art.  Despite our ideological differences and me maiming his men, we found a common interest in architecture and good sushi and we’re still penpals today.  Of course, most details about my work are classified.”

See?  Now that’s a man I want to be friends with.

To celebrate both my 11th month anniversary in Korea and my 300th post, I took a picture last night that summarizes Korea far better than anything I could write.

Bar street.  1 AM.  Hint: he’s not tired.

Going to a bar mitzvah?  Baby shower?  A friend getting married?  I have the perfect gift idea for you.

Classy Spam packages!  Impressive your friends and family with the least impressive meat on the market!  Pick from several different sophisticated packages, none of which include anything to cover up the taste of Spam.  Though I guess if you have a leak in the drywall, you can use it to plug it up.

I shouldn’t be hating on Spam, mainly because of my sophomore year of college where I lived mainly on Hot Pockets and Twix.  Listen, Koreans love Spam.  They loooove it.  And nothing wrong with that.  I imagine it’s the same thing back in America with pork rinds and beef jerky.  And after eating a package of pork rinds on a long car ride once, I understand why dogs love them.

Every once in a while I accidentally let out some of my bitterness.  But luckily a well-timed dick joke closes the portal and allows it to be suppressed once again.

A few days ago I found these just sitting in the teachers’ room.

Inside is a large pile of dirt and two very alive snails.  I don’t know why they were there and none of the teachers seemed particularly fond of them.  They’re not cuddly as pets and definitely not good science experiments.  Snails are known for being slow and slimy, much like the Jersey Shore (rimshot).  I never got an explanation and a few days later the snails disappeared.  That’s one mystery left forever unsolved, though I’m sure where ever they are living now, the snails don’t give a shit.

On Friday, I saw something strange with one of my kids.  After some squirming, I caught him off guard and took a picture.

If you look closely, the kid’s ear is purple.  Tough to see in the photo, but the entire inside of his ear was a bright purple.  I don’t know why, and his English isn’t good enough to tell me anyway.  Maybe his crayon spoke to him or he wanted to know what grape juice sounded like.  But on Monday, his ear was back to normal and no one made another mention of it.

I get that kids are stupid, not their fault of course, just they haven’t been alive long enough to become smart.  But poor child.  Maybe he shoved a paintball into his ear or got a melted unicorn lodged in the ear drum.  Either way, he’s such a sweet boy.  Why do all the purple ears happen to the ones I care about?

My hits per day are now a third of what they were a few months ago, but I’ll get over it.  That means I can write shorter, stranger posts.  Actually, I’m kind of relieved.  Each post will only take me fifteen minutes a day instead of an hour and a half.  Only four months left till this blog is over =(

Hey kids, you ever go to E-mart?  I have.  Don’t be jealous.

You want a Cool Pet?  You can apparently pick from a kitten or a baby seal.  Though I’d pick a different name for the store because cool pets aren’t the same as good pets.  An iguana is a cool pet.  But it’s certainly not a good pet.  It just sits there half-dead pooping out crickets all day, but it’s a helluva conversation starter.  A hedgehog is a cool pet.  But it’s definitely not a good pet.  It’s a glorified rat that can stab you and contrary to popular belief, it’s neither fast nor has an affinity for gold.  But a dog or a cat?  Not rebellious or neat, but they are always solid choices.

It’s rained every day this week.  And every day I see the spiders out in full force, new webs all over street signs daily.  Either they’re tough ass bugs or spiders are really stupid.

I went to E-mart this weekend!  I found this!

Hey, it’s a Monopoly ripoff!  Let’s all play World Express King of Hotel Game with what appears to be a small Hasidic Jew.  But instead of streets or railroads, you travel around the world and buy cities.  It’s like Risk with down payments.

Short post.  My brain is empty today.

I explored Gunsan’s E-mart today.  It’s on the outskirts of town and it’s a hefty cab fare ($3.50), so I haven’t checked it out in the seven months I’ve lived in this city.  It’s exactly like LotteMart, except with a McDonald’s.  While waiting in line for a Big Mac, a Korean toddler waddled up and tried to hold my hand.  I don’t know if it was a mistake or not, but his dad laughed behind me anyway.

Here’s a book from E-mart’s vast collection.

Isn’t that the smarmiest picture you’ve ever seen of Obama?  Maybe they shouldn’t have taken a photo of him when he was looking directly at the sun.  Obama’s got a great Gilbert Gottfried impression.  Listen, there are dozens of pictures of Barack looking regal and important, so why does this Korean book use the one that looks like he’s trying too hard to wink?

Koreans looove Obama, and after reading enough Yahoo News comments, I’m pretty sure they love him more than we do.  But maybe it’s because there’s not a lot of middle ground in our country.  People either love the man or loathe him.  The comedian Lisa Lampanelli made a joke on Twitter a few days that said,

Wyclef Jean disqualified for Haitian Presidency. Hey, that’s no fair! If we elected an unqualified black man, why can’t they?

I’m a diehard Democrat, and I thought her joke was hilarious.  But apparently there was such a huge backlash that she had to make another tweet declaring,

OMG! I voted for Obama, you morons. I’m a comic, not a political commentator. WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!

I’d like to think that the Koreans are a smarter people than Americans and don’t believe that Obama is the second coming of Hitler like a growing portion of the citizens back home believe.  But I think Koreans view Obama more as a symbol of hope and prosperity, or at the very least someone who’s not Bush.  Either way, arguing politics is second worst topic of conversation after comparing bowel movements.

On a final note, WordPress’ spell check doesn’t have Obama in it, but it certainly has Gilbert Gottfried.

I joined a club a few days ago.  The Oh God The Rogaine Isn’t Working local Korea chapter.  During our meetings we swap old driver license photos and discuss the newest innovations in razors.  Our guest speaker today was a plastic surgeon who gave a fantastic lecture titled “Hair Transplants Aren’t Just for Traitors.”  Afterward, it’s tradition to watch one of the Transporter movies and rub wax into each others’ scalps.

I can’t drink coffee anymore.   I mean I can and it’s delicious, but I may have well swallowed a condom full of needles and spoiled milk a few hours later.  So to get my caffeine fix today, I bought a Coke instead, and because I’m on a super strict diet, I bought a Diet Coke.  But when I went to drink it, I found this disturbing label.

Light Coke.  Like Bud Light or light speed.  Because I like to think of my blog as an educational wasteland learning tool, here’s some history on Light Coke.

In summary, it’s what Diet Coke is called in Europe, South America, and Southeast Asia.  It’s exactly the same as Diet Coke, except with a nifty new name.  But a very clear warning to all you diet soda drinkers.  After exhaustive research (one Google search and skimming Wikipedia), I’ve found that while the Diet Coke label claims it has zero calories, there is actually closer to one calorie per can of Diet Coke.  I’ve already made a few calls to get that class action lawsuit started.

Diet Pepsi here in Korea is called Pepsi NEX, which is a way cooler name.  It still tastes like acidic piss, but at least there’s never any shame carrying around a bottle with a name that sounds like a carbonated robot.

I found this ad on a nail salon near my work.  It’s strange, because while the English title is big and bold, those are definitely three words that I would bet the majority of  Koreans don’t know (and a small portion of Americans).  But in Korea, English makes anything classy and I totally appreciate it.

This is a rich dude solution.  The best kind.  Money can cure aging and bad skin, but using money itself to cure aging and bad skin is a serious sign of swagger.  Instead of rubbing it into your skin, maybe you could take the gold, sell it, and use the money for acupuncture or something.

And people who do this treatment, haven’t you seen the movies?  The dude with the gold tooth always has it stolen by the movie’s midpoint.  We, as the audience, subconsciously hate those with success and especially those who flaunt it.  When the thug’s gold tooth gets nabbed, we giggle and rejoice.  Just like we hope the gold treatment gives you a rash.  The subconscious jealousy is what drives our society, and also what makes us hope you fall into an open sewer after winning the lottery.  If you want technical terms, we call these feelings capitalism.

No hard feelings though, I’m a master of suppressing my bitterness.

I received my 400th blog comment today.  It was correcting a grammar mistake I made.  I can’t imagine a better analogy for my life.

My boss brought in her 2 year-old daughter today.  The little girl is super cute, and like most Korean 2 year-olds, she’s scared of me.  My co-worker told me offhandedly that the boss’s kid doesn’t speak English.  And that was my favorite comment of the day. I was planning on using my off period to teach the toddler some Shakespeare, but now that whole plan is kaput.  You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the preschool production of Macbeth.

One of my co-workers today said it looked like I’d lost weight.  I’d like to think so, though I still have a bit to go.  As I heard a comedian once say, I’m just trying to reach a point where my breasts don’t jiggle when I brush my teeth.

I was told by my boss that I was not allowed to have a beard greater than three days old.  I don’t think they know what a three day old beard looks like, because I’ve been rocking this five day old beard all day.  It’s not much, but it’s my own personal victory against The Man.

We had a work dinner tonight, and afterward we went to noraebong (karaoke).  Surprisingly, my enthusiasm for singing in front of others was not shared by the rest of my co-workers.  My voice sounds like angel farts.  My vocal range is about an octave and a half.  And I am always ready and always thrilled to go.  Maybe it’s the videos they show during the songs (I will swear on my dear cat’s life that one of the videos this night was a battle between two trench coat-wearing pedophile flashers).  Maybe it’s the free strawberry soda.   It’s most likely because of my constant need of attention, but even solo Sweet Caroline made a dreary day just delightful.

I found this on the side of a van near my work.

That’s a badass ad.  I’m going to join tomorrow and kick the crap out of first graders.

While wandering aimlessly around LotteMart last Sunday, I spotted this.

Korea’s Josh Groban he is not.  Or she.  I’m not actually sure, but for the sake of consistency, I’ll use he.  I understand that musicians are known for their eccentricities.  And I’ve seen enough ’80s glam rock bands to understand differing fashion choices.  But this CD piqued my interest.

None of his clothes match, for one.  Even when Kiss put on their full makeup and space suits, cat least the colors were a nice blend of black and shiny.  A light blue fedora looks good on no one, and I can’t tell if he’s wearing a scarf or just carrying his jacket in a peculiar way.  His album background looks like he got caught in a flamboyant solar flare.  But I forgive him entirely and wish him nothing but the greatest success, all because of that beautiful thumbs up.

That thumbs up is the ultimate sign of confidence, a desire for greatness not brought down by the troubled burdens of the artist’s suffering.  The album next to him is a young Korean mulling over his life choices in a quiet lonely forest.  Not this man.  He’s the Elvis Presley of public access.  The most confident man in the world, despite his lack of good taste and being photoshopped inside a beehive.

I’d buy his album and give it a delightful review, but I’m notoriously cheap and I don’t think I’m anywhere near his target audience anyway.  I’ve realized lately that the crazy people are either the happiest or unhappiest people on Earth.  There really isn’t any middle ground.  I’d bet money that he’s the former.

My diet has been going well.  Monday through Friday I eat a little less than normal, trying to avoid carbs or fatty foods.  On Saturday and Sunday, I allow myself to gorge, gathering up enough shame to make it through the weekdays without eating a second dinner.

On my way to work, next to the local apartment complex, is this:

Peppers.  They’ve been sitting out on the sidewalk for a few weeks by now, so I assume they’re ready.  I’ve never seen anyone selling them or even sitting relatively close to them.  I guess they’re free, but it’s also spider season and nearing the end of monsoon season, so the peppers are more of a Fear Factor challenge than a tasty treat.

But don’t you worry.  I’ll keep you updated on what happens with the peppers.  You can add it to the list of things you don’t care about, like the United Nations and Kourtney Kardashian’s baby.  For instance, you might be excited to know that I saw a young girl accidentally step on one of the peppers a few days ago.  Luckily, no one was there to complain or give a naughty look so she ran away with minimal humiliation.  Thrilling.

I can’t drink like a Korean.  Glasses are never empty, cheers are made every ten minutes, and drinking can last a good five or six hours.  Sure, alcohol is cheaper in Korea, but you’re going to spend the same amount of money you would have spent back home.  I’m not complaining, hell, I’m always a fan of the work hard play hard mentality.  But there’s no way I can keep up.  Plus, it makes me fat.

Anyway.

This was the other warning sign at the hospital.  Here, the present common problems of the elderly, so you can take notes for later.

Common problems of the elderly include getting lost, talking gibberish into the phone, the inability to do math concerning pastries, forgetting what scissors are, meditating, and doing excessive amounts of laundry.  Essentially, baby proof your home and give your grandparents a calculator.

I’ll tell yah, the politeness towards elderly culture here is intense.  You know why it’s not rude to ask someone their age in Korea?  Because you need to know their age to know what type of respect tense you use when speaking.  I tell my Korean friends that one of the best parts of American culture is that we can tease our old people.  But Koreans wouldn’t dare.  Probably a smart decision in the long run.  It’s not as if we don’t like our elderly.  Betty White is making a strangely huge comeback at age 88.  Gran Torino was such a good movie mostly because Clint Eastwood is so old.  All I’m saying is that old people knew the risks of getting old, and that includes juvenile joking.

Two posts tomorrow blah blah blah.

My dear Korean friend and I went to see The Expendables movie tonight.  I hadn’t seen enough explosions recently and he was tagging along for the ride, despite knowing nothing about the movie and only recognizing Jet Li on the poster.  The movie was exactly what you expected and well worth my 8,000 won.  But as he left the theater he complained a little about how terrible the story was and the shitty dialogue.  And it’s true.  There were no twists, the plot moved at strange intervals, and none of the dialogue sounded natural.  I didn’t care, of course, but it makes sense for him to feel this way.

He can’t appreciate Randy Couture in a fistfight with Stone Cold Steve Austin.  He can’t appreciate Sylvester Stallone and Jet Li in a car chase with Dolph Lundgren.  We can’t blame him for this.  Because half the movie’s fun was the awe factor of having all our action heroes of the past 25 years shooting and punching each other.  So instead of concentrating on Jason Statham throwing grenades while Jet Li covers him, my Korean friend must rely entirely on the story to determine the value of this movie.  And when you do that, it’s a piece of shit.  But seriously, if you’re in that coveted 15-65 male with chest hair range, then you’ll enjoy this film.

Anyway, I took this picture at the movie theater today.

This shirt would be way less adorable with correct grammar.