not dead yet. promise to blog anew wednesday or thursday. waiting for some pictures and some free time.
go giants

Hours from Japan where I will continue my misadventures for my three day vacation. If it sucks, then upon leaving I can actually say 'Sayonara Suckers' with some conviction.

I've finally hit the big time. I'll have you know that I've finally penetrated the subconcious of my peers, and I am now making cameos in other people's dreams. Catch me in Caleb's latest adventures in rapid eye movement under this Saturday's entry. For some reason I'm arguing with his ex-wife, incidently also a chosen person, and I'm accessorizing. What can be said about this? Perhaps Caleb, like me, should avoid the spicy foods before bedtime. I might take this advice myself, as my recent insomnia has coincided suspiciously with my newfound affinity for Kim Chi, the staple dish of this tiny, fiesty nation. I'm also featured briefly in Asma's recent entry (July 7th) recalling her disturbingly aggresive confrontation of a dim San Luis Obispo native. Not suprisingly, my sexual orientation was once again being called into question. This is unfortunately a frequent occurance for this San Francisco native. It's not rare to encounter ridiculousness and ignorance within the community of ex-pats in Korea. Army related personnel and English teachers from all different backgrounds ranging from dirty old men to ex-convicts, deadbeat dads, and massive debtors all the way to adventurous and interesting peeps (like my clique). However much I try to brush off the haters, just like Master P taught me to, I can't say that I'm not affected by these repeated, startling allegations. It's like just from because you're from the Sco, and you're hairy and articulate and you wrote poetry in high school (admittedly poetics is the 'gay art', but they meant 'happy' in the case, I think), then you must partake in the love that dare not speak it's name. Whatever. I'll try to keep the swishiness to a minimum, but know that I enjoy sex with women as much as the next latent homosexual. Kidding. Anyway I apologize to anyone who was offended by that rant.

Otherwise, hard as it is to believe, I've been in Korea for nearly 8 1/2 months. If you click on no other link in this entry, click on that one. I am very funny. Not gay. I think that Gabe might be, though. Not my homie Gabriel from the Sco, but the short one who teaches English in Daegu. See what happens when you piss me off, buddy? Cyberspace infamy, biotch. Gay Gabe did tell me about a funny page that pops up when you do a google search for 'weapons of mass destruction' and hit the 'I'm feeling lucky' button.

So I've been having trouble sleeping lately, but certainly my razor sharp wit has not been affected. You like that confidence ladies? It's the kind that only emerges in a dark room at three am when valium proves ineffective. Also, I love when people e-mail me, even though I suck at returning them. Oftentimes the Comments link loads extremely slowly, so e-mail me. There is a link to my address at the bottom of the page (Listen You) even though it's hard to find. So, good night, and my arbitrary Simpsons quote is this, said with utter disdain:

Yes, my son is also named Bort

I thought of a great a band name if ever the occasion arises. Confiscating Hampsters. Enough said. It's not so much an absurd non-sequitor as it is part of my job description. Yes when I'm not calling my students "dog-babies", tossing smelly toddler socks out of four-story windows or throwing erasers into children's mouths, then in all likliehood I'm depriving preteens of disease-carrying rodents and incurring their hissing Korean wrath. It happened yesterday, when a little girl refused to put her tiny, frantic hamster into her shoulder bag like I asked her too, and instead put it in the pouch of my sweatshirt. Ignoring my abject terror of being pooped upon, I removed the beast from my paunch pocket and placed it back in the panty-like kercheif she was using to transport the vermin-turned-pet.

This lesbian bar has no fire escape

And what I mean by that is Happy Independence Day. And Happy Birthday Ezra, wherever the hell you are. Eight months of rice and and references to dog eating have made my fingers grow weary. but I feel my strength growing anew, and the blogging shall resume in earnest.

Enjoy your death trap, ladies.