John post # 2

Today, Chris suggested topics for me to write about like a special ed teacher helping some retarded schoolboy lacking the creative intellectual capacities to come up with something comically witty to write on his own. Like the retarded schoolboy Chris seems to deduct me as, I'll obediently take his advice. He anticipated his family would find substantial amusement over my mentioning of items that have recently pissed me off (basically you folks laughing at my expense). Being the retarded schoolboy that I am, having you laugh at me is the greatest value I have to offer you (plus I'm used to it).

This may come as a shocker, but I'm not a real big fan of physical pain, particularly in the cerebral area. Nevertheless, this is exactly what I received from the enormous creature we call Zach. He told me that he had just talked to his Dad. He said his Dad told him to tell everybody "hello" and "slap John on his bald head." To the chagrin of my noggin, Zach relayed the message physically before verbally. Zach's reply, "hey man, don't kill the messenger." Now that my head has stopped ringing like a Salvation Army Christmas bell, I can think clearly enough to realize that it was Mike's way of warmly saying a special "hello" for me, which makes me feel good. Unfortunately, that special "hello" had to pass through the medium of a "Zach-hole" resulting in what I diagnose as a mild concussion (all jokes aside Zach didn't really hit me and let Mike know I return the "hello").

Let's get back to uncharted territory that I like to refer to as the truth. One thing that truly "grinds my gears" (to borrow a Peter Griffin phrase) is Koreans obsessive amount of spitting. I don't know if Chris has mentioned this to you (that would require me to read the blog), but the loogies here are out of control. Worse yet, all ages do it (not just the old who have earned the right to be jerks, but ages of people who haven't, especially babies). Even worse yet, spitting is gender impartial (nothing like seeing Miss Sexy turn into Mr. Ed after releasing large quantities of germ infected liquid from her mouth). Finally worst yet, the place is irrelevant. You see spit outside on the sidewalk, inside on the floor, in the elevator, in the sanctuary, and even in the holy water. Maybe this is some sort of circular justice. Those babies being baptized are just going to have to lie in the bed that they've spat in.

Korean students stink! I mean that in the literal sense of the word. Some of my classes make a football locker room smell like Acqua Di Gio. Trying to get them to use deodorant is like trying to get Mark Mangino to eat a vegetable. Koreans are like "you know what"-holes, they all have one and they all stink. Koreans eat loudly! It's no wonder that the man who once held the world record in eating hot dogs was Asian. Koreans would make a caveman look like he eats with the gracefulness of an English queen. The worst part about it is when teachers eat at school (which they always do). I can't get any work done because I'm being distracted by the eating orchestra. I have important things to do like chatting on facebook or watching youtube clips of midgets fighting monkeys.

Koreans' stinginess with the condiments irritate me like a rash south of the belly button. I'm a big fan of ketchup. At McDonalds, you're lucky to get one package (no dispensers anywhere mind you). That one package lasts me my first three fries, then, what the hell am I supposed to do? I go up and politely ask for some more ketchup, so they hand me one more package. Great, three more fries are taken care of. Keeping my cool, I say, "Umm no. Sorry, you don't understand. I'm going to need a lot of ketchup." They smile and say, "so sorry." They come back with two more packages of ketchup. I proceed to explain to them why they need ketchup dispensers, but they don't know what the word "dispenser" means. Ten minutes later after talking to a 17 year old Korean McDonald worker and unsuccessfully translating to him the condiment obligation of fast food joints, I returned to my fries with my meager three ketchup packages. I still didn't have nearly enough ketchup, but my fries were ice cold by this point, so it didn't matter.

I'm not usually one to complain, but those are a few things that "grind my gears" in Korea. I wish everybody a Merry Christmas.