Lately I have been questioning why I have absolutely no desire to settle down and be in a committed, long-term relationship. Maybe it’s because I’ve been there and done that. Maybe I’m like the many other men that have a fear of commitment. Or maybe I’m just fuckin’ selfish. [continue reading…]
oh, i meant to write a post on halloween. a friend back in the states said after seeing my halloween pics that she was not aware that the satanic holiday was celebrated in korea. and it actually is not. the koreans are aware of the holiday but they don’t dress up and walk around collecting candy at night. the kids are too busy studying at those hours.
there are areas where the halloween spirit is a little more alive. bars and clubs that cater to foreigners do make an effort to dress up themselves and their places of business to get us foreigners to come in and get drunk. they give prizes for different categories of costumes and offer drink specials to get people shit faced. it’s easy marketing.
my first halloween here was alright. costume shops are not big here so it’s not easy to find a good costume. i, for example, went as a murderer. all i needed was a person to kill. once i got that out of the way i was a murderer for the night. no one told me, however, that you can’t just abandon that title after one night. if i knew it would stick with me i would have went as something else. i apologize to the girl i used to make my costume and also to her family. my prayers are insincere.
but, despite the slim selection of costumes, people still got very creative. there was jesus, satan, cowboys, men as women, women as men, angels, hobos, clowns, people dressed as koreans, police officers, flashers, badminton players, basketballers, i even convinced this girl without a costume to be my girlfriend for halloween. instant access to her vagina. score! but the most common costume, by far, was the drunk english teacher. those were all over the place.
so, there you have it. a look at halloween in s. korea.
All apologies
It’s been so long since I wrote a post, but I honestly got nothin’ right now. No interesting encounters, exciting adventures, or sleazy stories to tell. So, I’ll just give an update of all the things I’ve been up to.
I’ve been keeping busy with football and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ). Both activities have caused me some injuries already and I have received some acupuncture to heal my wounds. That shit works and its dirt cheap here. I personally find it a bit annoying; you just sit there with a needle in you. Feels like a really long mosquito bite. Just wanna slap it, but that would hurt.
Football
Football has been going alright. So far we had 3 games and I missed one due to a knee injury. We tied 1 game, won 1, and lost 1 (bad!). There aren’t many teams so the season is short, but this shit is pretty fun.
Dick Daly and The Busan Gryphons
Brazilian Jiu Jitsu
My first bjj tournament will be in December in Busan. I’m new so I don’t realistically think I’ll win the entire tournament but my goal will be to maim someone. I’ve been out of the weight room, but I have been pushing around the lightweight (and the light people) in my bjj gym. For cardio I’ve been hitting the punching bag and sparring, oh and having sex with a whole bunch of Korean chicks.
Dick Daly and his BJJ gym in Busan
Korean classes
Oh yeah, I also started taking Korean classes. I decided 6 months in, that maybe I should learn the language. My pick up line, “penis. big.” can only carry me so far and does not work on all women. Once I get this language down I’ll be like an unleashed beast that can speak Korean (as opposed to an unleashed beast that cannot speak Korean). I’m not leaving here with out impregnating someone. Korea needs some diversity and Dick Daly’s on a mission to make it happen!
The meetingSo, I have been back from my vacation for a bout 2 weeks now. And ever since my return to work, I have been running into these old men that sit outside of a store just about everyday after I get off. They just sit there and chat it up while eating dried what-the-fuck-evers and drinking makgeolli (or makkoli), a traditional Korean rice wine.
I’m a pretty friendly dude so I usually say, “anyong haseyo” (hi) to most strangers, especial elders, especially if they look intimidated by me. So, i do the same with these old guys. They call me over and offer me a drink of their wine. I accept. I finish it in one or two gulps. I say, “kansahamida” (thank you), I bow, and I say annyonghi kyesayo(goodbye). I go on my way.
They stop me again to join ’em. I do. And once again, they offer me a drink. I graciously accept. I make quick work of it. But before I could say, “kansahamida,” they pour me up another. I’m what they call a “g”, so like a g, I take the drink to the head. I bow. I say kansahamida followed by annyonghi kyesayo. I go on my way.
You see everyday after work I either go directly to the gym or I go home first to get my gi (robe) for my bjj (Brazilian jiu jitsu) class. So I don’t want to catch a buzz before I go to anyone of those. But I’m a big dude and one or two cups can do me no harm.
So for three days straight of my first week back, I hung out with these dudes. Finally on that Friday I decide on the way home that, if they’re out there, I’ll buy them a bottle for their kind hospitality.
As I approach the store, I see my faithful friends from a distance. They wave me over and one stands up and offers me his seat, which happens to be a stepping stool about 4 inches off the ground. I don’t know how these Koreans can stoop, squat and sit crossed-legged for such long periods. I slowly but not so surely make my way down to the seat. Aaahh, nice and uncomfortable.
I grab a cup and part-take in the partay. After the bottle has run dry, I get up and go inside the store. I return with a fresh bottle and bag of dried squid, fish, and nuts. The crowd goes wild! I stayed a little longer this day, but I still had to go to the gym, so I didn’t over do it.
On this particular day though, this particular guy was feeling particularly talkative… towards me. But, he spoke only one word of English and I can understand only about 4 Korean words total. All I can understand is that he was a veteran, and the rest is jut a furry of slurred words that blurred right by me. He’s making, what seems like, a moving speech.
At one point, he looks intently at his hands with bitter eyes. At this very moment I imagine that he is either describing the horrible things that those hands have done or adversely, how his hands were made for healing and should not be used for fighting. Whatever the case is, I’d like to think it is deep and poetic. At least to someone who can understand it. I, however, don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.
There eventually came a time when I felt I had my fill of fellowship, fables, and the not-so-fancy fare. I had to be on my way and on my way I went. As I approached the gym I realized that I may have had a little too much, but still I pressed on and completed a mediocre workout. But who cares it’s…
It has arrived and the weather in Busan is great. Some friends invite me to join them at the beach, so I ditch football practice to go hang out. I have an injured wrist and won’t be able to participate anyway. The beach wins.
On the way to the beach I decide to grab a bottle of the same stuff I’ve been sharing with my new friends for the past few days. All my foreigner friends look at me funny as I pull up with a libation that’s usually reserved for old Korean men. I tell ‘em where the urge came from and they pretend to understand or care. Whatever.
That’s when I come up with the brilliant idea of renting a ride on a float for around 15 bucks just so that I can yell to the people on the beach that “i’m on a float mutha fucka, don’t you ever forget!“, while waving my bottle of makkoli in the air like I just don’t care.
thank god that it’s just an idea and not an actual series of events I just described because that would have been a waste of 15 bucks, not to mention the makkoli that would have ended up in the ocean instead of in my belly. And they probably wouldn’t hear me from where I was over the jet ski pulling the float either. Ok, this fuckin’ float day dream scenarios has gone on long enough, but as I get older that story will become more and more true every time I tell it. Just watch.
On Monday I didn’t see my friends, because I had to run an errand after work. The following day as I prepare to walk home I think to myself that maybe I’ll skip out on the hang out this day. As I make my way closer to the usual hang out spot I have completely made up my mind that I would politely decline and go straight to the gym. Fresh and sober. Ah, but on this day there doesn’t appear to be a meeting scheduled, because my comrades are nowhere in sight. Perfect.
So, I pass by the store, cross the street and start to walk down the hill that leads to my second home, the gym. At the same time I am thinking that this particular topic that this blog is about will be the next topic that my blog will be about. I map out the structure of the blog: the initial meeting, the next meeting, the payback, the greatest war story, the weekend, and finally the big break, the end. So now I have a complete blog post in my head, or so I thought. You see, at this time I’m not expecting to hear…
So, as I’m strolling down the hill to the gym, and all of a sudden I hear a voice calling out to me. I look around but see no one. Then I hear it again and this time I notice that it is coming from the sky. God? No, it is one of my old pals from the store front, standing on top of his roof. In fact, the whole gang is up there.
He waves me over. I point to my watch and point to the gym and try to explain. And he yells down to his wife in the yard, doing hard labor that a husband should be doing, to open the gate. Or so I assume, since she comes up to the gate and opens it to let me in. At this point I accept the invite.
I walk up some narrow stairs that run along the side of the smallish townhouse and approach a gate that houses a quaint little roof garden. There is also a shade roof, a round table, and some chairs. The men are sitting around snacking on cow stomach, garlic, and hot peppers. A friend offers me his seat as he leaves to make a makkoli run.
I sit down at the table. They offer me some stomach. I grab some chop sticks, wrap a section of stomach around a chunk of garlic, dip it in a mixture of course sea salt and sesame oil and put it in my mouth. Not bad, but not great either. Anthony bourdain or Andrew Zimmermanwould be proud (if any of you two want a co-host, holla).
Finally our good man returns with the makkoli. They all pass around small cups and hand me a little bowl, which is traditionally what makkoli is consumed from. They fill me to the top. kansahamida. Cool and refreshing. I eat more garlic and some dried fish that our friend has brought back from the store. I finish my bowl and they pour up one more. And that is the cue for…
Yes, our war veteran story teller is at it again. I don’t really understand. Not just what is coming out of his mouth, but also what is going on in his head. It is obvious I do not understand. Perhaps he is the type of guy that talks to himself, and is just happy to have someone to talk to. I decide, for my amusement, that I’ll interact.
“Oh,” “I see,” “really?” I just pretend to understand what he is saying. It’s actually quite funny to me. Then I decide to laugh. But apparently I picked a bad time to do so. He stops immediately and looks at me as if to say “that shit is funny to you?” he genuinely seems offended. I genuinely don’t give a fuck. I finish my bowl and say my thank yous and good byes. ’til next time, stay thirsty my friends!
(this is a two part entry. please disregard the second part)
part 1: da dam
so, i just returned from a trip to amsterdam and surrounding cities. many people ask me why i decided to go there for my vacation, and the answer is because i have family that lives there and i love the women.
you can really find some attractive young women in amsterdam and rotterdam. i’m actually trying to find a way to live there for a year or so. i’d get in so much trouble, though. and by trouble i’m still referring to the women.
anyway, back to the main reason for my visit. i had some free time and i decided that i would spend some of that time with my family that i don’t get to see quite often. i had a great relaxing trip and thoroughly enjoyed my stay.
it has been brought to my attention on this trip that my aunt reads my blog, as does my mother. i told my mom she has to stop, but i doubt she’ll listen nor will my aunt. so, if i had any real owtragous adventures to speak of, i might sensor myself for fear of revealing my true inner beast to my folks. they know i am no angel, but they have no idea what i am capable of.
(so, i decided; to make this blog more exciting, i would add some fiction into my story. so if you just wanted to hear about my trip to holland, it is safe to stop reading at this point)
Yeah That’s Me Mounting That Poor Girl… ‘Tis What Mud-Wrestling Is Made For
I attended the boreyoung mudfest which is held each year at Daecheon swimming beach. I must say that I had a great time and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It’s pretty much a festival of mud for people to play in and get down and fuckin’ dirty.
the legend on the ddong chim
the ddong chim is a prank in korea, that has it’s roots in japan, and is the equivalent of the american wedgie.
basically, one takes their two hands and clasps them together tightly, while extending both index fingers. this forms a solid base for the two index fingers, which rely on one another for extra support as they prepare to completely violate and pry open some one’s unsuspecting anal sphincter.
so, i’ve been holding off from writing this blog for a few reasons.
1. it has it’s sad moments
2. i can hardly remember it
3. i’ve been super busy
So, you catch your girl cheating on you? Even worse, you catch her in the middle of the act. Sure, anger is one of the first emotions that comes over you. This might escalate to rage and possibly end up in murder. Now we don’t want that so, take some time to consider what has lead you to this situation. And whatever you do, don’t take it out on the dude that you catch dick-deep in your cheating girl.