Happy New Year!

When it came down to it, organizing my desk was just not as interesting as making a juice-box friend.



I was left alone in my office with 7 boxes of milk. I'm working my way through the chocolate so there'll be more juice box friends coming and if I'm desperate I might even drink the nasty strawberry milk.

Happy New Year everyone!

A collection of blurry photos

My class schedule was goofed this week so I only had my cell phone to take pictures of their thumbprint cards, but if you think poor quality is going to stop be from posting this cute-fest, you're sorely mistaken.


On the inside this one said:

Dear Santa,

I think I was a good girl this year. I would like to have a cat for my Christmas present. Please give me a pet! My pet dead so I was very sad. If I have a cat I play with my cat and I wash it too. So please give cat for my Christmas present.

Well Merry Christmas!
From Ha Yuan


In case you can't read, the people are labelled "teacher", "me" and "teacher's boyfriend."


I want to play with my friend and I go to the mountain and take the bugs for Christmas. I play so much when the snow I play snow fight with my friend and make the snowman with my friend.

For Christmas HE WANTS BUGS, omfg! Not even for Santa to give him bugs, but he just wants to take them from the mountain himself, could you BE more prescious? I'd like you to try telling Johnny Western-boy that this year for Christmas he's allowed to go get his own bugs. I smell a Christmas stabbing.




Dear Santa,

Hey Santa Hello I want big house and car give me a present oh please. You don't give me you are die ok?

Bye Santa.

I'm so happy because of you.

Ahh! That face? The sledding thumbprint picture he thought of all by himself? He's so happy because of me??? Come ON. I just want to pinch his puffy little cheekies.

Tomato Soup

I love canned tomato soup, but I don't love it for 3000 won. This soup is a pretty good facsimile of Campbells, becuase isn't that the standard by which we measure all soup?

Tomato's are getting expensive round these parts, so I suggest buying the discount ones, where the hide the rotton side down in the package but you totally know it's there. Some people might shy away from eating partially rotting food, but my dad used to tell me that the mold on bread was just penicillin, so I have no qualms with cutting away the bad parts of a tomato.

Roughly chop 4 or 5 tomatos and throw them in a pot. When they've released all their juices you can blend or mash or smoosh them up a bit and add water (or milk or cream), some bullion cubes, salt and pepper and let it get jiggy for a while. Once it's groovy, add somewhere between a tsp and a tbsp of sugar to cut the acidity. Then run it through a sieve to remove the skins, if you're into that kind of thing, and you're good to go. Grilled cheese sandwhich optional, but recommended. Likewise for sugarless saltines.

My Glue Gun is my BFF

Glue guns are so much fun. For 5,000 won you can adhere anything to anything via molten stickiness. What's not to love? Not my sparkly pincone wreath, that's for darn sure.


Start by taking your least favourite coat hanger and bending it into a circle. Leave the hook bit, as it will continue to serve as a hook. Then glue bits of nature all over it; I started with some green pine needle-y branches, then added aumtumnal leaves and glittered pinecones, which appear frosted in this photo but I assure you that is all glitter, all the time. Once you're finished you're going to want to take a picture of it because you're definitely going to knock it over upwards of two times and destroy it immediately.

Wreath no.2:


Wire hanger circle again, then glue pinecones on top and green needle clusters underneath. It looks a little sparse, I'M AWARE, so I think I'm going to add another ring of pincones to bolster it up a bit. Holiday bonus: this wreath doubles as an Elizabethan dog collar thing.

Snowfrakes: just cut away everything that doesn't look like a snowflake, but for the love of god don't cut the seam. I suggest using old speech contest papers for this craft so you can chop away at children's dreams.



And finally, le piece de resistence; Christmas tree, my christmas tree, how lovely are your makeshift branches. I'm not even going to explain how I did this because I have eyes, I know how it looks, and I know you dont want to recreate this fragile, crooked excuse for a tree. I wanted to add more decorations and lights, but the branches dried out and now I can't even touch it or the whole thing will blow into the wind. Merry Fucking Christmas Charlie Brown.

Not to worry though, it'll look great with all the presents stacked up underneath. The presents my mom forgot to send in time for christmas. Merry Sometime-in-January everybody! I hope Santa brings wine this year...

The Winner

This shirt beats all other Konglish shirts. You will never see a better shirt. I want you to understand that are about to see the winner of the 'who can find the best konglish shirt' competition that we're all unofficially playing. This is it. Are you ready? Maybe you should have some tp handy in case you pee your pants. Okay, here it goes:

Call to arms for all
chunkily-penised boys
to do her right and
do her good still it
mattered slut literacy
was its most defiant

On the tiniest 4th grade girl who couldn't understand why I wanted her picture so much. Heart.

Cultural Tips for the Culturally Insensitive

This week's tip comes from grade 5 chapter 16: How was your vacation? This cultural tip has seemingly nothing to do with the lesson, but it's still nice and offensive so they threw it in just for funsies. Enjoy.

1. Nursing home in America.

Usually, in America, the elderly live alone. Unlike the elderly in Korea, who are supported by their oldest son. In America there are certain care centers for elderly people unable to care for themselves called, nursing homes or retirement homes for the aged. These are not government supported centers. The cost to live in these centers is quite high. Therefore the people who live on a pension can't afford to live there without assistance. They envy the Oriental family system because their golden years can be very lonely.

Don't we all envy the Oriental family system because of its inherent superiority? The elderly in Korea are never lonely, especially when their son or daughter has a baby and they take it away to live with them instead. What a great way to not be lonely. How about the elderly that are outside at 4am digging through the trash cans for bits of paper so they can drag it around on their trolley. How could you be lonely with all that paper to keep you company? If you think my grandmother is envious of your family system you are sorely mistaken because she thinks you live in dilapidated huts made of rice paper and don't use forks because you haven't figured out the technology yet. She's a racist, but then so are you. I guess we have something in common after all...

The Difficulties of Being Canadian

It's passport renewal time for me, an excrutiating process that comes once every five years, just long enough that you've juuuust barely forgotten what a horrible teeth pulling experience it was last time.

In order to recieve a Canadian passport you must sumbit a urine sample, your maternal grandmothers dental records, and $200 in unmarked $2 bills (withdrawn from circulation in 1996). The applicant must also have a 'gaurantor,' that is, a person to vouch for your identity and sign several pieces of paper to that effect. Fair enough. Now the catch is that a gaurantor must be a person who holds one of several jobs, including but not limited to: "Dentist, Medical Doctor, Judge, Magistrate, Mayor, Notary Public, Practicing Lawyer, Bank Signing Officer." Oh, and you have to have known them for a minimum of two years.

I think Canada is a friendly place. I think Canada doesn't have a rigid class system and that people from all walks of life can intermingle and be friends and get it on and whatever else they want to do. Personally though, I don't know anyone who fits in that list of professions.

Dentist: The last few times I've scraped up enough cash to get my teeth cleaned it was by a different hack each time, based solely on appointment availability.

Doctor: I am a "don't-go-till-there's-blood-on-the-floor" type of girl. I have not had a family doctor since I was 17.

Magistrate: I don't know what that is.

Mayor: Actually the mayor and I lost touch a while back, sad story, I just couldn't support his zoning laws anymore - NO I DON'T KNOW THE FUCKING MAYOR!

I'm going to go ahead and say I don't know anyone at all who makes six figures, which I think is what you're asking. How 'bout ma uncle Kingsley, he's bin outta jail for seven straight years now. Hey, is there differen' form if yer daddy's a farmer and yer momma's mentally unstable? Not to worry, they say, simply fill out an additional form listing every place you've lived in that last five years, every job you've had in the last five years and give two more identity references, in addition to the two required for the regular renewal form. Then have that form sworn or delared and signed by a Canadian or British diplomatic or consular representative, of which there are only two in the country, neither in my city...

All this to prove that I'm the same person I was five years ago. Surly a simple anal tracking device could eliminate all this nonsense...

There are still mosquitos

How? Why? Not just in November, but like, in general. Do you mean to tell me that the unicorns couldn't make it on the boat but Noah was all like, "Mosquitoes? Two? Check. This way fellas. Do you need a drink before we push off?"

These photos are from two seperate occassions a while back and warning, some of them are unpleasant.

First up: emotastic mouth swelling.


Gratuitous mouth shots:


Ready for work looking like I just got botox with a dull needle in a dirty alley.


Round two: you win mosquitos. Now I can't leave my house for fear of scaring the towsfolk.

True story, I sent this picture to Kyle's phone with a sarcastic message that didn't seem sarcastic in light of the terrifying picture and he called who called me back all like, "omg, what happened?!" and I laughed and mumbled incomprehensibly through my bulbous lip.

Close up of those crazy eyes:


Who bites an eyelid? There's no juice there! That was just spiteful.

If I knew why this photo was sideways it wouldn't be sideways.Thus concludes my photo essay on why I hate mosquitos. I'd like to thank the panel for their consideration of making them extinct in return for getting the pandas back. The pandas aren't extinct yet? Still? Okay, fine, I'll take the dodos, or a small furry dinasour.

Baked Potato Soup

All the flavour of a baked potato in a convenient liquid form for people without teeth or those too lazy to use them.

You'll need:

- baaaaaaacon
- oooonion
- potatoes (4ish)
- milk/water
- bullion cubes
- green onions
- cheddar cheese
- plain yogurt

Fry the bacon in the bottom of your dutch oven. I fry mine straight from frozen after hacking it apart with a not nearly sharp enough knife. When it's crispy, which is the best way to eat bacon imho, remove it and set it aside for later. DO NOT DRAIN THAT GREASE. Toss the onion (chopped) in on top of it and let it get groovy in those juices. We're young, we don't care about cholesterol, right?

When the onions are translucent, add the milk and/or water. Milk is probably preferable but I didn't have enough for soup and breakfast in the morning so I did some of each, about 4 cups total I think. Then add the potatoes that you peeled and chopped and cooked in the microwave, I guess I should have mentioned that earlier. Microwaving is not necessary, but saves some time.

Add the bullion cubes, maybe 2, depending on how much liquid you used. Just taste it, you'll see. Add some pepper and when everything is ready throw it in the blender until it's smoooooth. Top with bacon bits, chopped green onions, cheddar cheese and plain yogurt. Slurp away.


Warning: If your boyfriend says he doesn't want any of your delicious soup DO NOT BELIEVE HIM. Because after you eat the whole thing he's going to change his mind and be all like, "Hey where's the rest of the soup?" and you'll have to admit that you ate it all, "DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT??"

Various Stories About Hamsters

This week I marked grade 6 diaries. I was lucky enough to find two stories about hamsters.

Wednesday, November 10th

My hamster had a babies. My hamster didn't move much yesterday. She was busy taking care of her babies. The babies were really small and red. I wish they grow up fast. My friend asked me to give him one so I promised but I don't want to.

These damn kids are making hamster promises they can't keep.

Thursday, November 11th,

Last week I gave my hamster to my friend. They had some baby hamsters. But the mother ate all of the baby hamster. I was sad. I think the baby hamsters are so pitiful.

We all do kiddo. There's nothing more pathetic than a baby hamster.

You Must Makee Good Performanceh

...is what they said when they told me 23 hours in advance that I had to do an open class. For a competition. With judges. But to save you from that tirade I'm going to rant about something else.

"Pleaseh washee the desks."

"Sure, what should I use?"

The answer was cold water and a rag. To scrub graffiti off 31 desktops. Soap? No soap. No sir. Apparently Koreans need only sheer willpower to wash away "Min-Su is a smelly bum bum" written in pen.

As I was scrubbing, fruitlessly, it occurred to me that some people actually don't know how to clean very well. To clarify: I hate cleaning, I avoid it at all costs, but I do know how. I remember very clearly learning to vacuum in the kitchen of my old house. We moved out of that house when I was eight, you do the math. Vacuuming was all about the linoleum pattern back then; up two squares, back two squares, over two squares, repeat. Up two, back two, over two, repeat. I knew instinctively that this sucked balls, and I believe I said so. In a fantastic display of parenting my mom said if I didn't want to vacuum I had to go to my room. Oh! You meant vacuum? I looove that shit. Pleasepleaseplease let me vacuum, I cried. And I screamed. Wailed even. But the damage was done, silly girl. I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room. Except not in my own room - that's just an expression, right? I was sent to my parent's room, because being sent to my own room would be too much fun on account of the toys. My parent's room had precious few toys except the texas mickey filled with spare change. The point is I know how to vacuum. The kicker? I've never owned a vaccuum in my entire adult life.

I used to think it was very obvious that one should always sweep (or vacuum), then mop, in that order. I used to think this was obvious because I've seen how mud is formed. Then I saw my former hell-bitch roommate making mudpies up and down the hallway and realized this was not the case. She was a white african princess though, so she cannot be blamed for nearly anything. Then the students helping to clean the classroom did the same thing today! Mind boggling.

I suppose the real point here is that I'm better than most people. Or wasn't that clear to you?

Hiatus Over

From now on I will be fitter, happier, more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much, regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week), getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries. I will write more posts on this blog, they will be better, of higher quality, I will upload pictures even though I am lazy.

Starting....now.

Mushroom Ricotta Dumplings



These beets aren't part of the dumplings, but they're just so pretty. They're basically like a work of art and I tell them so everyday. Their egos got big, but it was worth it.

- half carton of milk (for cheese)
- button mushrooms, chopped
- onion, chopped
- garlic, minced
- salt and pepper
- wonton wrappers, thawed

First, make ricotta cheese (explanation here). It's easy, I promise. While it's draining, fry the onions and garlic in a little olive oil. When they're translucent, add the mushrooms and more olive oil if necessary. When everything's cooked nicely transfer to a bowl and add the ricotta and salt and pepper to taste.The ratio of cheese to mushroom mixture is really up to you.

When you've decided on your ratio, grab a wonton wrapper and fill it with a tablespoon or two of the mushroom mixture. Then fold it in half and seal well with a fork. This is important or they'll leak and you'll cry.


I boiled these and then fried them in butter with some onions. I served them with swiss chard and beets that I boiled and then tossed with balsamic vinegar, which is why they look black in the photo instead of their beautiful purple selves, but they tasted good. The next time I put them in borscht which was even better I think, but more on that later.

I don't care

Hey!
You, hey!
Don't do that.
What are you doing?
Show me your hands.
What is that?
Glue?
You're smelling glue?
Don't do that.
It's his glue?
Why is it all over your hands?
I don't care.
No you can't wash it.
Sit there with a hand full of glue and think about what you've done.
Because. I. Said. So.

It must be said, I love being in charge.

Autumn in Korea

The weather

Is blessedly cooler

When I open my window a cool breeze enters

Autumnal melancholy follows

So do the mosquitoes

They bite me

so many times toomanytimes

Insert vampirical pop culture reference

Yet the swift wind ushers in relief

and my swass free ass rejoices

The wind

It also brings the sounds of my neighbours domestic violence

A witty follow up would be inappropriate here

too soon

too soon.

Do they know the irony

That October is domestic violence awareness month?

I am aware.

And horrified.

And still,

The weather is cooler.


It's okay to steal persimmons from your neighbour if he hits his wife, right?

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

Today I killed a bug in anger.

It wasn't bothering me. It wasn't in my house. It wasn't even moving. But I was angry because for the 10,000th time this year I'm getting sick and I'm tired of coughing. I'm so, so tired and so I stomped it. I've been in a semi-permanent state of illness since March and yet I've still not come up with a solution to the projectile-phlegm-into-hand problem. Slurp it back into your mouth? Stuff your hand into your pocket and deal with the dry crusties later? There's no right answer.

In my defence my students call this kind of insect 'China Bug.' Dirty China Bug to be exact. I'm not sure if they mean the bug is dirty, or China, or maybe both. In any case it's inferior to Korean bugs, which I would never kill in anger.

Except for mosquitos.

I find your language strange.

Today a boy of about five looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Hello teacher. Blah blah de blee blo bladdy blah blah bloo."

I looked back at him and said "Anyonghaseyo. Ehyo, yehyo, kaka seyo imnida, eh, eh," followed by a series of grunts.

Sounds about right.

My Mama Didn't Say Shit About Days Like This

the good thing about not bringing enough toilet paper into the bathroom stall

and having to do an awkward bow legged walk back out to get more

and hoping no one noticed you going back for round two...

the good thing about that is that the worst part of my day is probably over.

You can't break me.

Today the grade five tend du jour was wearing your hoodie backwards with the hood pulled up over your face. Puhlease Jin-ho, you act like you've never seen Kris Kross before. Take a history class already; you're not novel and you should know as much.


I think today's trend was specifically designed to traipse on my last exposed nerve, but the laugh's on you, you tiny little assholes. Any prank that muffles your yappy mouth is something I can get on board with. And I don't have to look at your face all class? Perfect, hoods up er'body.

How about calling me 'sir' every time I have use a stern voice to get the class under control? I of course use the term 'class' loosely; what I teach is better compared to the chimpanzee exhibit at the zoo after a heavy dose of lsd. A single cup of coffee can't compete with that, a trailer park in a tornado has a better chance of survival.

But it doesn't matter. Know why? Sometimes you cry and I think it's funny. Brittney Teacher for the win.

Songs I Swear I'll Never Get Sick Of

Rewind. Repeat. It's so good. It hits me right in the fedora loving spot. It tickles my barefoot lady keyboardist boner and then I start to rock in my office chair, that slight recline bounce, while flexing my right thigh muscle to the beat. Yeah. Muuuuusic.

Here it is, via video recording of my favourite Canadian radio show hosted by a man named Gian. And no, not the only one.

Texico Bitches.

Cultural Tips for the Culturally Insensitive

This week's cultural tips come from the Grade 6 lesson: I'm Stronger Than You. This week's topic: Cultural Gestures.

Thumb up: it means 'OK(agreement, permission)', 'number one', 'president', 'best', etc.

Thumb down: it means 'negation', 'objection', 'kill', etc. This has originated from the Roman gladiators' match in which the lost gladiator's life was up to whether the audiences held their thumbs up or down.

I'm going to go out on a cultural limb and say that thumbs up most certainly does not mean president, although 'Thumbs Up Obama' does have a nice ring to it. I've also never intended to kill anyone by flashing the tumbs down. Both of these interpretations make the game Heads Up Seven Up a little more interesting though.

Overheard in the Classroom

Quote of the week:

Kid one: "You're under attack!"
Kid two: "Your FACE is under attack!"

Then, during the "Pick-Up-The-Garbage-As-Fast-As-You-Can" activity, Kid two smeared glue on both his hands and proceeded to scramble around on the floor high-fiving the shit out of every piece of garbage that crossed his path.

I applaud your innovation Kid two. I applaud your inability to applaud becuase your hands are covered in glue.

Best Ever

It's like a snuggie, only more retarded.
Look, you can comfortably cross your legs while lieing on your back in your living room! Sure you might be more likely to die becuase you can't put your hands out to catch yourself if you trip, but it's perfect for camping sleepwalkers who don't want the hassel of getting in and out of their sleeping bags. The full leg zipper is also a great option if you want a little air on your legs, while keeping your upper body sung and confined. It's also great for those people who've lost both their arms in a tragic meat cutting accident but don't want to draw attention to themselves. All this and more for the low low price of looking like a complete and utter idiot. Call now!

Typhoon > Snowstorm

Top 4 Reasons Why Typhoons are Superior To Snowstorms

4. Typhoons have names. They're so epic you can call them by a proper noun. No one ever names snowstorms and rightly so because Snowstorm Bob, or Heavy Flurries Marg just doesn't have the same ring.

3. Typhoons are sexy. I don't really know what a typhoon is! I think there's wind and maybe rain but there an air of mystery about the whole thing that I find irrisistable.

2. Taken from my friend Grant: "The plural of typhoon is typhoon. The collective noun of typhoon is "an affiliation of typhoon."" Who, these guys? They're with me, they're my affiliation. (This means the previous reasons are gramatically incorrect, but "typhoon are sexy" sounds weird. Weirder.) I think the collective noun for snowstorm is just "a bunch" or "a shit ton."

1. Umm, I've never seen one before so I'm just pretty excited. Typhoon Kompatsu, you're a sissy little mommas boy so make like Kirsten Dunst in a crop top: bring it on.

Eight Year Old Me

If you had told me when I was eight years old that one day, when I was allllll grown up, I would eat seaweed four, maybe five times a week I would have laughed in your face, hard but only one syllable; HAH. I would have said, "You're craaaaaaazy! Did you take your crazy pill today?" And then I would have said, "Mind your own beeswax," but that's because I was a snotty little witch, as my mother used to say.

The first time I tasted seaweed was on the school bus on the way home from a long day of grade two. One of the older kids got it from her teacher during a lesson on god knows what. I tasted it because I was triple dog dared, which are virtually impossible to turn down. My friend Amanda Swagger would find this out several years later when we dared her to eat a snausage doggy treat. Afterwards we told her it was made out of horse penis and she threw up but that's neither here nor there. The point is I ate the seaweed and I said definitively that it tasted like fish food. Now I eat fish food in soup, fish food on rice, dried fish food, fried fish food...one might say too much fish food.

To the kids on the bus eating seaweed was comparable to eating dirt, or saran wrap, or brussel sprouts. That's not edible! Are you trying to kill me?? I had reason to doubt though, the kids on the bus also told me that Eskimos (back when it was okay to say that) chewed on whale blubber for bubblegum. They told me that if my hair got darker when it was wet then it wasn't really blonde. They told me that Percy Goodswimmer brought a knife on the bus, unsurprisingly I had recurring nightmares about being knifed as a child. Actually in the dream I was a unicorn so my babysitter told me that unicorn blood was magical and they could heal themselves and then stab the bad people with their horn. Unfortunately when my little brother had nightmares about Pocahontas all I could tell him was that it was based on a true story. Sorry kiddo, history's rough.

Now I know that I was never on Percy's hit list. I know that getting your hair wet isn't the best way to tell its colour. I know Pocahontas isn't even the half of the story (The Last of the Mohicans is where things get really crazy). I know I was way too stressed about learning handwriting, which turned out to be a totally useless skill, and I know I still don't like licorice. I know marriage ceremonies on the playground are not legally binding. I know that monkey switching is actually just butting in line and I know, whatout a shadow of a doubt, that seaweed tastes like fishfood.

Well that's not right.

Thanks google translate.



If this is true, then the sentance I'm translating says: "After class Andy went to eat lunch in a restaurant. Then he went to the bank to get some money and SHIT IS GONE." I hear you bro. My shit's gone all the time.

And yes, that is Alanis Morissette on the youtube tab. Don't judge me, my SHIT IS GONE.

Sun Dried Tomatoes and Chz Plz.

The Killer Tomato is a classic Montreal sandwich, rivaled only by the Smoked Meat sandwich and Me Between Two Dudes in tha Club sandwich. Jks, that's also called Smoked Meat.

I picked up some sun dried tomatoes in Taiwan and god bless, they are as good as I remember. For a killer Killer Tomato sandwich you need:

- A few sun dried tomatoes, soaked in H20 for half an hour (save this liquid for later)

- Fresh tomatoes

- Cream chz.

- Bread.

- Basil (optional, but highly recommended)

After the sun dried tomatoes have soaked chop them up in smallish pieces and do the same for the basil. Now smash both into some cream chz and then spread on both pieces of toasted bread. Add a layer of fresh tomato slices, salt and pepper, and enjoy.

The salad in the picture is fresh swisschard leaves, candied walnuts, kiwi, and green apple, tossed in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

I also used the tomatoes to make a Sun Dried Tomato Basil Pesto. This time you'll need some chopped sun dried tomatoes, a clove of garlic, a bunch of chopped basil, some walnuts (pine if you have them) and olive oil. Then just blast them to smitherines with your mortar and pestal until they're a paste.

I used this pesto with spagetti and homemade ricotta cheese which is totally easy to make. Simply bring a pot of milk to a simmer, not boiling, never boiling, and then add a splash of two of vinegar (depending on your milk quantities) and a pinch of salt. The milk will start to curdle and after a minute of stirring you can just skim the curds off the top of the whey (just like Miss. Muffet!) and put them in cheesecloth or a sieve to strain for 40 minutes or so. Add a little more salt and your in ricotta goodness heaven.

Toss your cooked and drained spagetti with the pesto and some halved cherry tomatoes, the water the tomatoes were soaking in and top with ricotta. Boner in my mouth.

Thanks Wikimapia!

During an innocent search for the location of an ice skating rink (or, as we say in Canada, a skating rink) wikimapia showed me a little somethin' somethin' extra.


Russian whores at 35.88N and 128.586E. Right where I left 'em.

Week in the Life

Back from holidays, back to work, if you can call it that. Only in Korea would you have to play musical desk chairs becuase there's not enough computers for everyone in the one air conditioned office. While we were away I recieved a facebook message from my aunt asking how I was doing and what a typical week was like for me in North Korea.

My family thinks I live in North Korea.

I could assume this was an innocent mistake. I could correct her and give a brief geography/history lesson. But that would be big of me, and I'm so very very small.

Dear Aunty Pat,

Where to begin? In North Korea there is no beginning or end to our weeks, only days that turn into years, that turn into entire lifetimes. I'll start with Wednesday, because that's rice ration day. At least it was. Back when there was rice. Anyhoo...

Wednesday, 4:45am: I awake as per usual to the sound of the Dear Leader's voice from the loudspeakers positioned on both sides of my head. He has such a lovely singing voice, our Dear Leader. I take a quick bath in the rain bucket, saving the water to brush my teeth with after. Waste not, want not the Dear Leader says! Today I will go wait for our rice rations. Wish me luck!

Wednesday, 11:56pm: No rice today, America's fault. Not too worry though, the Great Leader will provide. He works tirelessly from beyond the grave.

Thursday: Today we must tend to the fields. The ox passed away of natural causes last week (we killed him for food, naturally.) Now my friend Min Su must pull the plow. It's funny because she looks like an ox. Unfortunately she's not nearly as strong so we will not be able to plant as much this year. Still, seeing her strapped in the harness like that was priceless.

Friday: Marching practice today!

Hope I'm doing this right!!

Tuesday: Tuesday already? Oh dear me, I think I may have blacked out from hunger after marching for 17 hours straight. I mean, not hunger, umm, I passed out from...happiness! Sometimes it can be overwhelming to be the happiest people on earth, but we try to grin and bear it.

Well that's all for now, I'm off to paint a 35 story mural depicting 112 ways the Dear Leader is the greatest man alive. I belive I'll be working on section #75: Our Dear Leader Has Such Handsome Toes.

Death to America,

-Brittney.

Time passes quickly

Vacation is over and I'd love to tell you about that or where my relatives think I'm living (hint: not South Korea) but instead I'll share a little tidbit from my experience interviewing potential (Korean) English teachers at my school today.

Interviewer (me): In the class some students have a lower level of English than others, how do you think you will teach them in the group?

Interviewee: I sink low level student have bery low motibation. I will make them write bery muchee sentance.

Interviewer: Right. Okay...Thanks.

The the humour was exacerbated by the fact that the candidates had to sit at the far end of a long table, facing the panel of interviewers from a distance of about 10 feet, despite there being avalable chairs along the sides of the table. Not awkward at all.

Murdered in the City

Scene: Brittney opens the sliding door between the living/bedroom and enters the kitchen/everything else room.

Brittney: Oh my god it's murder hot in here.

Kyle is on the computer, unresponsive.

Brittney: It's sooo hot in here, it's like there's a fi- oh. my. god. you left the stove on.

Kyle grunts, or something.

Brittney: The butter melted all over the counter it's so hot in here.

Kyle: That could have been anybody.

Brittney: It's like a fireplace was on because there is literally a fire in the kitchen. You could have killed us all.

Kyle: I'll kill you somehow...bring me a kleenex, I sneezed on floor.

Brittney: Oh, wow, so you're going for the Darsh of the Year award I see.

Kyle: Quick, it's drying.

WE'RE GOING ON VACATION!!! See you in eleven days unless I get bored and spend the entire time on the internet.

PEACE.

Eggs Benny

Due to lack of Korean options I've had to take brunch into my own hands. Risky business for someone who arbitrarily bite your head off anytime before 10:00am. Still, I will go to the ends and back for eggs benedict.

Hollendaise Sauce
- 3 egg yolks
- 1/2 cup butter
- tbsp lemon juice
- salt

I don't have a double broiler so this is how I got the sauce together, there are other ways if you are equipped for such things. Microwave the butter until it's bubbling. Separate the yolks and save the white for something else abd lightly beat the yolks. While the butter is still piping hot slowly add it to the yolks, whisking constantly. When all the butter pop it back in the microwave for 15 seconds at a time, whisking in between, until it's thickened. If you see clumps you've got to whisk the hell out of it to break them up. The lemon juice and salt and there you have it!

*CAUTION: this makes an obscene amount of hollendaise. As in people with heart conditions need not apply. I would scale it back dramatically in the future.

Latkes

I have Jew envy, beucase all the coolest people are Jewish, obviously, so I make latkes and pretend I'm one of the chosen people.

Peel several potatoes and then run them through a cheese grater. Then strain them with a cheesecloth, or just squeeze out the liquid with your hands. Add 1 egg and a few tbsps of flour, form into cakes and grill in a bit of oil.

Throw it all together on top of toast with some ham and sauteed red peppers. Take the pictures, then go back and put twice as much hollendaise on it. Heart attack here we come.

Tell Me A Story

*The following should be read in a thick Korean accent and slow, simplified English for the parts of Andy and Myself, respectively. Picture if you will a Mr. Onioyshi a la Breakfast at Tiffany's (but drunk) in conversation with the redmedial kindergarten teacher at the short bus school.

*This story was told over the course of several hours, with each point emphasized and then remphasized for emphasis. I will shorten it here for your benefit. Enjoy.


Andy Shi: I am businessman. My job, trabel bery muchee. I trabel eberywhere, eberywhere.

Myself: Oh really? Have you ever been to Europe?

Andy Shi: Oh many time, many time. Don't ask me. I have go eberywhere. One time I took train from Switzerrand to Roma.

Myself: Oh wow, actually I've also taken that train-

Andy Shi: My story is special, prease risten. In train car was woman, I think to myself maybe she is Japanese, maybe she is Chinese, I don't know. I don't know. I don't ask. Then, she has a packagee. She open packagee. And, it was kimbap! I so surprisee! So I ask, "한국 사람임니다?" (Are you Korean?) "에, 한국 사람. (Yes, I am Korean). So surprisee! She giveh me kimbap, wooah, so delishee. It was after nine pm, eberyone leave train car, only we are continue. She tell me, she is go to Firenze, her husband is tenor singer. I go to Roma for business. She tell me, your white shirt is dirty at wrist and neck. I trabel for many days, so dirty. She tell me, I can washee it for you. I am confused, what she mean? But, I giveh my shirt to her and I watch her, she washee it for me. This is sad story... Maybe you can guess what happen?

Myself: Ummm, well, I'm not totally sure...

Andy Shi: We made history... Can you guess what I mean?

Myself: Ummm, well, yeaaah? I think can guess...

Andy Shi: We made history... You can guess what I mean. Then she go to Firenze and I go to Roma. She tell me, I have to see you again. Not should. Have to. If not, I might die. She tell me, come back to Firenze. I will wait for you at train station.

*Side bar: I assume there were dates and times involved here, not just random waiting. These sorts of practicalities are lost in dramatic storytelling though.

Andy Shi: So after businessee I must go back to Switzerrand. I think berry muchee. I was 43 years old, she 34.

*Side bar: For those not in the know, this automatically means he was married with children, and possibly her as well.

Andy Shi: I thinkee so hard. I thinkee if I will see her again it will break her family. (*Insert dramatic hand movement. Break.) So, I don't get off train. I don't look for her. I never see her again... I miss her for 10 years. I repent, so muchee repent.

Myself: Wow...that's just like a movie. So romantic. Tell me, was she beautiful?

Andy Shi: I don't remember. The train was bery dim. Do you know what I mean? The lights were down. I cannot see.

Myself: Oh. Oh...huh.

Andy Shi: But I cannot sleep without woman. So I haveh bery many girlfriends. Ebery city; London, Baris, Bancouber, Moscow. But I have rule: no street girl. Never street girl. Bery dangerous.

Myself: Oh...yes, of course, dangerous. Umm, how do you meet your girlfriends then?

Andy Shi: My friends, business partners, they can find girl for me. Or I can go to embassy.

Myself: Embassy? 대사관?

Andy Shi: Yes.

Myself: Wow.

*Side bar: I did'nt ask what exactly happens at the embassy. Although curious, I'd just really rather not know.

Andy Shi: My rife askeh me, do you have girlfriend? I say, WHY YOU ASKEH ME THIS?!?! (*Abrupt topic change)If you want trabel, you just askeh you husband. (*Gestures to a man who is not my husband, or boyfriend.) He gibeh you money.

Myself: Ahh, thank you Andy Shi. I'll keep that in mind.


And so ended my conversation with Andy. He took down my name, email address and phone number at least three times. He told me that next time we meet he will tell me the rest of the story. The rest? Oh yes, he says this woman came back to Korea and tried to find him. She wrote a letter in the newspaper. Really? 신문? Yes. She wrote a letter in the newspaper to find out who Andy was. And he read it. Craigslist missed connections style, 25 years before it was invented. This of course sounds like a crock of shit and makes me doubt the entire story but that means my entire evening was a waste and so was the last tenish minutes of your life reading this so we're going to go with implausible, but true. Implausible, but true.

On Sitting Quietly for Eight Hours Straight

Unknowingly and unintentionally, you will learn things about yourself. Such as:

1. I have the attention span of a fruit fly who forgot to take his ritalin after eating three to five sugar cubes.

2. Knitting is only as interesting as the other thing you're doing while you're knitting. If the other thing you're doing is watching a video recording of a Canadian radio talk show, then knitting's only getting a participation ribbon in this contest.

3. I am a person who would read Kayne West's twitter account. And I am a person who would consider the validity of "Fur pillows are hard to actually sleep on," (possibly true, but you should check if there's a just pea underneath) "Palace of Versailles is the shit" (I think that's exactly what Louis 14 told the architect) and "Office clothes are the shit" (do you mean business casual? If so, false. And if sweater vests and castles both fall under the category of 'the shit' we might need some sub-categories for reference. I'd say the historical architecture is a pretty big dump, while dress pants are more of a constipation than an actual shit.)

4. I am not above giving my computer screen the finger. Reason? I didn't like the search results it brought up for sweet and sour chicken recipe. New low? Or technology finally being put in its place? Probably the former.

5. I will stop and have a one sided conversation for upwards of five minutes with a very special 5th grade girl sitting on the school's stoop covering all of her visible skin with iodine. From now on she will be known as Strange Little Orange Girl.

6. That is all. For now.

Let's Have Drinks and Get Ready

My Tuesday afternoon mix-tape. You know, for those electro dance parties when there's no one else in the office and you start talking to yourself just to hear something above the drone of the aircon. "Wig out with your cock out!" - Ghandi. Wise words.

File this one under pre-teen, hipster, electro, sparkly, gay boy. Bonus: he raps. You should really watch the whole thing.



The sweetest singer and a friend of a friend of a friend of mine.


Russian disco stylings. Bring on the wodka.

My Mother's Package

My mother's package arrived! Did you know if you're not home to recieve your packaage in Korea they don't send it to the nearest post office? Instead it travels many miles to a not near post office and then they send you deep into the bowels of the postal system, past rows upon rows upon rows of men sorting mail by hand (Why by hand? Surely they have machines for that).

My package contained: 3 bottles of vitamins, 1 reuseable shopping bag, and 1 vitamin C shower filter. Oh yeah, that's a real thing. Other people get food or books or sentimental trinkets from home, I get naturopathic water filtation systems.






Vaccuum sealed for freshness.



Isn't it magestic? Accompanying this nifty device was a note instructing me to be sure to bring it home with me. Sure thing, I'll pack it in the box labelled Awkward Shaped Heavy Things.

In case you're curious, this is a diagram of how the Vitamin C Shower Filter works. Just as I suspected, tiny half cut oranges inside the filter tank. But won't I be sticky after showering in fresh squeezed oj?


The Vitamin C water filter is designed to remove chlorine from the water and leave your hair and skin silky smooth. I assure you it will do neither as it gathers dust on my desk. If she asks though, it's great. I'm washing the scurvey off of me as we speak.

New and Improved

Instead of fixing up the previous jewlery stand I made, I got a new one instead! Here's how you can too can have this great piece of art.

Step one: pay close attention to garabge on the street for upwards of four months until you find something useful, for example, a picture frame filled with floral print cordaroy.

Step two: inspect for bugs.

Step three: take it home.

Step four: shove your earrings it.

Ta da!