Today was a beautiful day. It began when I awoke freakishly early to the blaring, monotonous drone of loudspeaker-equipped trucks peddling bananas up and down my street. Then came the chickens-- those small Korean cocks crowed loudly, incessently, with a sense of urgency that only small Korean cocks can muster. Oh what the hell, I'll say it again: the small Korean cocks, how they do crow. I did some cooking, some cleaning, some laundering, some pondering and finally made my way to the gym for an early workout. My brown bandana caused quite a stir with the middle aged women treadmilling alongside me. Label me a fashion misfit, if you must. There was some not-so-subtle giggling when my shorts inadvertantly dropped below the danger zone (the 38th parallell if you will), and so I quickly adjusted them to their proper place, somewhere above the navel. After my scandalous workout session I headed back home for a quick bite and the last few innings of the Giants game, another victory I might add. Now it was time for some half-assed tutoring. I would have used my whole ass, by it was still smarting from my earlier public de-pantsing. Imagine my dissapointment when the Pez dispensers I dispensed to my students were met with an indicepherable, but clearly dissapoined, series of clicks and grunts, which I can only assume was some form of language, most likely Korean. Can't you people at least pretend to enjoy your Pez? Most kids would be thrilled to consume a tangy candy treat issued to them via a plastic animal head delivery system. It seems so natural to me, why it's the purest form of horticulture since hunting and gathering. Anyway, then I headed to school. In my first class, I was hanging with the cool kids, sitting near the window and enjoying the beautiful sunshine, occasionally yelling at confused pedestrians below, when one little girl said that today should in fact be Sunday rather than Wednesday because it was so sunny outside. You're very adorable, I thought. Then the boy with Tourette's syndrome picked his nose and offered me his snot. No thank you, I said, and then I struck him repeatedly with a rolled up text book. What? I did it lightly! You goddam puritans with your "standards" and your "ethics," why I bet you even frown on spousal abuse, you freaking hippies. Anyway, work continued somewhat normally from then on. This week I'm writing report cards, in English, for the small percentage of parents who can both understand the language and read my handwriting. Anyway the report cards are essentially censored, because the "administration," and I use that word in the loosest sense imaginable as it consists of a bizarre fundamentalist women with horrible teeth, does not want any parent to be so concerned with their child's progress in Enlgish that they might remove him or her from our esteemed institution. So I have to find ways to subtly insert critical remarks within my reports in the guise of overwhelming praise in order to avoid the watchful eye of the censor, who speaks very little English herself, by the by. Here's an example: "Kim blank blank is an excellent reader with strong writing and spelling skills. His pronunciation is improving everyday. Incidentally, he might consider not grabbing his classmates' penises during class. Great work!" Good times, good times. So after work I went to Tae Kwon Do, where everything I did felt like a Tae Kwon Don't. After two weeks of doing no kicking at all (except kicking it with the homies as well as kicking it old school) my body didn't feel too great, but I persevered. Then the grandmaster's youngest son offered to pee in a small coffee cup for me. At first I was going to politely decline, but then I thought, hey, let's see where this is going. Worst case scenario, the kid pees in the cup, I send it to the lab, we run some tests and find out if he's doping. Then we screen it for Korean Insane Deviancy Syndrome (KIDS). Everybody wins. By the way the kid is seventeen. Just kidding. He's actually 5, which in real life is close to 3 and a half. All this brings us up to date, 2:45 am, and I have spent the last hour and half blogging, and then retyping the blog because it got erased, but these stories must be told. Good night.

Dan-thanks for the rules.
Al-thanks for the site.
Kyle- I'm sorry, man. I'll be in touch.