New photos from my Kyoto trip are up on Flickr.
Archive for September, 2006
So today, while looking around WordPress, I found out that you can post videos from YouTube.
I plan to abuse this in the best way possible.
So, for your viewing pleasure, here is one of my favorite music videos, courtesy of Kenny Chesney!
Because who doesn’t love a farmer’s tan?
If you ever see me driving on the highway, shaking my shoulders and grinning like a dope, I’m most likely listening to this song.
Hmm. I will probably regret this in the morning.
What does October have in store for me?
Let’s check my Hyun Bin calendar!
3rd: Day off. Time to watch those pirated DVDs gathering dust on my bookshelf.
On Wednesday, I have to go back to work, but the holiday extends through–
5th-8th: Yoga in the mountains! Four days in Gyeongju, at my favorite temple. Which also happens to be my favorite place in all of Korea.
I’m knitting a gray scarf for the head abbot. The last time I saw him, I asked about practicing Buddhism, but I don’t think he found me serious. Hopefully we can further discuss this.
14-15th: Pusan International Film Festival. Heading down south with MF, Z and Z’s coworkers.
20th: Jay-Z concert in Seoul.D already bought the tickets. H to the izz-o!
21st: Korean Proficiency Test. I’m signing up for a class that’s associated with a church in Seoul.
You actually don’t have to be Christian to join, but they do encourage you to attend church. (People from different religious backgrounds take the course, so I probably won’t be pressured.)
The semester only lasts for six weeks, but you know how competitive I am. If I’m not working, and I’m not in yogilates, I’m studying.
M just returned from What The Book in Itaewon with the first volume of Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore’s The Walking Dead.
Stupid me, I couldn’t wait and read the story synopsis on Wikipedia! I always spoil myself. I’m a sad, flawed woman.
Haven’t read an Image book since WildC.A.T.S. but I really feel like TWD is a winner . . . Should write more, but . . . oh, what the hell. I love comics more than this blog. Peace out, biatches.
Last Saturday I met Z, his coworkers and The Motherfucker (who you knew previously as T). MF brought his girlfriend, “Janet.”
We stared at each other uneasily in Z’s apartment, unsure what to make of each other. She was taller, skinnier, whiter–enough reason for me to dislike her. And obviously MF had told her I was a coldhearted bitch. Awkward!
We let the boys talk about work before I did what any Seoul girl would do in this particular situation: I complimented her handbag.
“Thank you!” she gasped. “I really like your shoes.”
We talked shop all the way to the galbi restaurant. She was bubbly, enthusiastic, and crazy about him. As he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she reached over and grabbed my hand. We exchanged smiles. I was won over.
Upon leaving the restaurant, Z tried to grab me as well. That was his third attempt that night, so when no one was looking I thwacked him several times with my umbrella. The next morning I blamed it on the alcohol.
We stayed out until five in the morning.
Janet and I managed to separate ourselves from the gents and recover with ice water at the bar. “These men love you,” she said. “How have you managed to stay single for so long?”
“Excessive body hair.”
“I’m kidding.” I grabbed another fistful of cereal and popped it in my mouth. “There was a guy I liked, I really liked. I’m not over him yet . . . No one else can compare.”
“Do I know him?” she asked, somewhat uneasily.
“No, he’s not with these hoodlums.” I sighed. “He’s Korean, and doesn’t know English. I’m American, and I don’t know Korean. Anyway, I haven’t seen him for a month, but I still think of him often.”
“That is very romantic,” she sighed. “But I’m sure you could be with him. I’ve known many women who didn’t know English, who dated foreigners–”
“Yeah, but I don’t see myself in that kind of relationship. But still, out of all the men I’ve met here in Korea–Koreans and foreigners alike–he made me the happiest, you know? And I know I can’t be with him, but right now I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
She looked down into her drink. “Do you think T and I will be happy?”
I gave her a small smile. “He really likes you. And, your situation is different from mine. You can talk to him.”
“But even still, the cultures are so different. I know I want to be with a foreigner, but sometimes he makes me feel confused. Sometimes, when we’re alone, he asks me to do things . . .” She flushed. “I’ve dated Western men before, but he’s different.”
“He isn’t going to break up with you if you don’t do everything he wants. He’s crazy about you.” I reached over and rested my hand on hers.
“Yes, but I like him very much.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “He wants to reserve a hotel room today, but that’s bad, isn’t it.”
“But it can’t be so nice, the three of you cramped in Z’s room, right?”
“Three? I thought you were spending the night.”
I thought back to Z’s beat-down and shivered. “Uhhhhh . . .”
Four hours after burying myself into Z’s sofa, I awoke to the sound of him snoring from his bed. I reached down, found a paperback, and tossed it at his head.
MF and Janet were lying on a comforter on the floor. He was spooning her, and her hands rested on his. They just fit.
I watched them for a moment before grabbing my bag and tiptoeing out of the apartment.
“And then Janet called me an hour ago,” I told L and D over sandwiches in Sinchon later that day. “She wants to get dinner next weekend.”
“Don’t you just hate it when the new girlfriend is so nice?” D grumbled into her drink. She had just broken up with her boyfriend, after two weeks of avoidance on his part.
I picked the pickles out of my sandwich and put them on her plate. “Oh, I like her a lot. It’s just that, well, he’s going to be there, and I’d rather not be around him.”
“Because you like him?”
“No. It’s just that–well, after the bathroom episode–“
“That was eight months ago!” L exclaimed. “Shouldn’t you be over that by now?”
“No, I shouldn’t, because it’s insulting.” I sat up and wrinkled my nose. “For shit’s sake. A bathroom? It’s so insanitary. No offense,” I quickly added, just in case. “And then she made me talk to him.”
“Does she know that he was into you?”
“She wouldn’t ask me to dinner if she did. Anyway, we hadn’t talked that night–at all!–so what could we say? I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me. And his best friend has a crush on me and his girlfriend wants to be friends.”
“You wouldn’t stick around unless you liked him,” D said. “At least a little.”
I reached over, took her hands and shook my head. “Bless your heart. Clearly, the breakup has made you slightly deluded on my behalf.”
“Okay, deny it all you want. But you’re just screwing yourself.”
I let her go and snatched some of her french fries. “I’ll be fine. Now all I have to worry about is the perfect dress for this particular dinner.”
Before meeting some girlfriends for dinner in Sinchon, I take a long look at myself in the mirror.
When I started this blog a year ago, I was clad in my college sweatshirt, baggy jeans, thick glasses and hole-ridden socks. Wet hair clung to an unmade face, cuticles grew over bitten nails. I didn’t spend more than fifteen minutes getting ready for a night out.
Now it takes fifteen minutes just to mentally prepare myself for a night out.
I’ve buttoned up a red, cropped cardigan over two long tank tops, skinny jeans and high heels. As usual, my face is white, my cheeks and lips are a deep red. Three coats of mascara widen my eyes. Twenty bucks have been spent on a French manicure.
A country mouse, painted like a city cat.
Shortly after I started working at Wonderland, a coworker said I would eventually morph into a Seoul girl.
Now I can’t imagine myself as anything else.
peachykeen says: man, i got so drunk last night
peachykeen says: two shots of plum wine, three white russians
D says: u and ur usual 1 beer a month
peachykeen says: z kept coming on to me and i finally had to beat him with my umbrella. he almost cried, what a bitch
peachykeen says: i’m so pissed at him
D says: poor guy
peachykeen says: but i am so tired of boys right now
peachykeen says: i mean, doesn’t z realize i am, like, ten times more attractive than he is???
D says: u didnt just say that!!!!!???
peachykeen says: no, i didn’t tell him that, but if he tries to come on to me again i swear i’m going for the nuts
peachykeen says: he kept trying to hold my hand–like whoa, i am SO not into you like that
peachykeen says: dumbass. i’m never drinking with him again
D says: lol you’re such a bitch