Thursday, December 30, 2010

Days of Yore

One time, my dad did not have a rotund belly.


My mom was a sweet girl. Spoiled and sweet.


My dad's family.

Dad's oldest brother, Dad's paw holding Dad's oldest brother's first son, Dad's oldest sister, Dad's mawm, Dad's oldest brother's wife, Dad's youngest sister.

My dad was the jokester in his pack of friends. Lots of depantsing. Most likely pee in that bottle he's holding.

This is the grandmother I never met. She was killed by a Swedish diplomat who was drunk driving and a full blown schizo.

My mom bffs, still to this day. CUTE OUTFITS LADIES!

Note: My mom's wearing VANS

My mawm, left, and her friends.

Mom, left, in M Butterfly.

Mom in white dress after show.

Mom in Don Quixote.

Mom and dad on a date, with fans.

Mom and dad got engaged.

Six Fleeeags.



I got sucker punched by an Irish priest.

A happy mom.

Happy mom letting baby Jihee party with the big kids.

Dad was all like LETS HAVE SOME MORE KIDS. And she was all like. And he was like. And she was like FINE.

I had no idea how short my happy life would be.


But the holidays were fun because we always got THE SAME PRESENTS which meant I could destroy one and take the other.

And it worked out usually. I was the boss.

And it was fun being taller and stronger.

And it was just fun.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Immortal Child

Sometimes I wish I was a DM (that's Dungeon Master in case you didn't know). I think if I dedicated myself to it really truly I think I could do it. However, everyone might die because sometimes I have an evil side that wants to destroy things that would hurt or cast spells upon my minions.

But the main reason why I would want to be a DM is because I'd like to make up characters. I think as a creative person I could do a good job. For example, meet The Immortal Child as shown above. This character may not be killed thus leaving my players either angry, unsatisfied, or hate me forever. Am I not a just person? Oh I am. But The Immortal Child is not. With an AC of close to infinity and laughter so painfully bloodcurdlingly harsh and high (literally blood pouring from ears), and a shield of pure reflection that disperses shards of poisonous glass, there is no such thing as justice.

One can dream.

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Monday, December 27, 2010

I Was Once An Original Gangster

I was born in Chicago you know. A long time ago in the beginning of the year.
I wish I knew the first house we lived in but Im not sure it exists anymore.
But the house I remember the most was probably this one.

Steps from this, with sounds as common as birds.

This is where we lived before this other thing became its outfit. It was pale yellow, just like this and we lived upstairs. Me, Ron Weasley, Mom and Dad, and sometimes my cousin Tom who was kind of a troublemaker in law school. Here I emptied my mom's perfume vial samples (she had about four thousand) into her plants. We had many plants. I also ate dirt in this house. And drank toilet water. My sister at the age of 2 or 3 jabbed very sharp sewing scissors into my inner upper left arm. It was my first visit to the emergency room where I recieved 3 stitches. It was also the first time I fell in love. I was 4 or 5. And the doctor took care me and made me laugh and carefully protected my stitch with a bandaid as big as a sandwich. I dont know what his name was but I think he may have looked like Bob Saget. But I could be totally wrong. That night I found my sister out on the back porch crying. She was in big trouble for what she did. Even tho she had no idea. OR DID SHE.

Summers on Bosworth were the best. Our entire block was blocked for our block party. I won crayons usually. And it was also the day I got to go into everyones house. Well not everyone but mostly everyone's house. But maybe not this one because a man hung himself inside this window. As my sister CLAIMS.

And this was my kindergarden. Saint Andrews on Addison.

And where I first saw breakdancing.

And the alley we'd play in because were a bunch of no good rascals.

When I come home for the holidays, we usually make this pitstop. And its always nice.

And so are chestnuts.

And gigantic korean supermarkess and getting really excited about musslooms.

My parents do not live in Chicago any more. They live about 15 minutes from the great state of Wisconsin. I do not like the house they live in but I do like the quiet that surrounds.

One thing I love coming home to is my friend Pansy. She is a bitch. I also like seeing my paintings up around the house. And especially since my mom hasnt stashed them in the spidery basement. Thanks mawm.

I also love seeing my favorite faces. One, my sister soulmate sweetie Kristin Ann.

And of course, thee JANNY BOOGIN BOOG.

And her jellyfish umbers.

We shared hot korn fud. OF COURSE.

I also tried to spend as much time with my parents as I really only see them once a year.

Hi dad!


I had a weird stomach ache the whole time I was home but I tried to fight it because I knew what would happen if I told my mom.

AND I FELT BETTER INSTANTLY! Until I yarfed everything inside.

ANYWAY my dad and I chatted for a long time.

This is my grandfather. My dad's dad. I only met him once when I was 3.

He jumped thru a shithole / toilet and escaped to South Korea in January 1951, right as the Korean War started. On January 14, 1951, my dad's immediate family left North Korea for the south. My dad was 4 years old and was carried by a shaman woman who worked at my grandfather's rubber factory. My dad said he used to see her dancing on knives! Its what they do. My dad's oldest brother, the only uncle I know well, carried their grandmother as far as he could. My 2 other uncles and 2 other aunts, all just a bunch of kids, and my grandmother whom Id never met, traveled on foot for days. Along the way to the south, they passed many people who had given up. Many were starving, many were hopeless, many were old and unable to walk. My dad said they left their grandmother since no one could carry her any further. He knows she died very lonely. I didnt know anything about her until this visit home. He saw a ghost of her or what would have been her, when he was a child in their house in Busan, the southern port town where you can see Japan on a very clear day. He is remembering her now for some reason after all this time and when he thinks of her and who she could have been his face is bitter sweet. There are no photos of her but I think she must of liked my dad the most.

I think Ill tell you the whole story some other time. Also, ironically enough, I was born on January 14th.


Anyway, it was nice being home. The short and few days I was there. But hopefully my parents will move out west. Or maybe even back to Korea. And see this on their way.

Bye Pansy I miss your fat guts.

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Friday, December 24, 2010

Cheers, Ye

My heart feels big and I'm happy I'm alive.
For my extraordinary dear friends.
For my ageless family.
For never having to endure Chicago traffic daily ever again.
For fleece.
For dogs' love of peanut butter.
For next years goals.
For the color mustard yellow.
For healthy amounts of sleep.
For the embrace and smell and voice of a skinny tan boy in a hair shy of 12 hours.
For a golden life.

Merry, Ye.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Like Family

Once upon a tiiiiiiime Kurt had a birthday and made his closest frands celebrate for 4 days straight.
30 is divisible by 4 but you get a whole lotta crap that cant be divisible to 0, the beginning of time.
My pal Kurggle turned 30 and wanted his closest friends to celebrate for as long as possible.

We ate at his most favorite restaurant Tandoori Hut not formerly A Pizza Hut. It was truly an wonderfully tasty deeelishious dinner with the most excellent entertainment, which was read aloud by yours trules and tear induced laughter by one Murt G Smurdge, his twin brother.

Shortly after we embarrassed ourselves, we left for gamery at the gamestore.
We fought off some fat kids for the pictarohamchop booth

Then documented our victory, for the booth.

It was an excellent day, tho one vital person was missed.
Ill give you a hint. We find him terribly handsome and love to talk like him in circles.
"NO....THATS DUMB." If you look closely you may find him in the photogromographono immediately above these words!

This infant, shall I say child is trying to beat Travis' #1 ranking! His mother, to his left, was there to wipe the sweat off his small brow. But in the end failed miserably. PROBABLY BECAUSE HE NEEDS A STOOL TO SEE AND PROB CANT EVEN REACH THE FLIPPERS. IDIOT!

Then the next day, Kim Goldion gave me the rightful duty of relieving her from her work. And what a work it is. Possibly the most beautiful neurosurgical facility I have ever seen! HARK! HER DESK!

And we left to celebrate Kurt, AGAIN, with pizza with things on top and hours of Frolf.
Murt brought Kurt a special blue beverage. This turned the night so electric violet.

Then Murt couldnt stop holding, should I say loving Kurt.

And from a not too far distance we could here the chuckle of one D. Smasher, and Kim Goldion wondering when our next wine shots were.

I cant really recall the rest of the night as all of us were laugh drooling and confused as to where we were.
Oh yeah there was cake of course.

The sleepover party was wonderfully gay, as in good, even when Kurttle fell asleep on his heated toilet seat.

The next day, painfully hungover, we were force fed Murt's Swedish pancakes. Here he is in action/non-action.

Then played Kirby Epic Yarn for about 5 hours straight. Then I remembered I had a work party to go to and with Kurdle being my d8 since Travis is lollygaggering in CUBA, it was time to GTFO!

The EMP was SOOOOOO FUN! we jam/screamed for an hour!

We interviewed for our fans!

We got hypnotized to not quit our jobs! And work overtime and not record our hours!

I ate tiny grape sized polenta cubes with bacon on top! I was drunk. And ready to dance. Which later gave me whiplash for dancing like AN ASSHOLE.
Then my coworker Leah and her special man friend Kelly, who is 7 ft tall, escorted us to the Bush Gardens, where I tried to fight my whiplash with bouncing to the greatest karaokles song, maybe ever.

And Kurt WAITED AND WAITED WAITED PAINFULLY WAITED to sing the only Jarpineeje song he knew in their books.


The sweet older woman who was actually Miwakorg's stand in did a wonderful jorb.

And THEN it was time to leave. But not without any sweet talkin for the King.

Then we had another sleepover party!!! And I fed us fuel line! It was rather bland and not at all perfumey.

On Sunday, we walked to the ID to buy our famiy presents. I conned Kuerl into giving our families crabs.
But on the way we got some Panda, and the best sandewichey in the world, banh mi. KUARTH HAD NEVER HAD! IDIOT! SLAP!

We also stopped and eavesdropped on some heavy shit, yo.

We walked and walked and ran into the Seattle Pinball Museum as its a big fatso. But it was ok ok ok since they had a game I really wanted to play but decided to wait to go hand in hand with dear Travoo.

I also rekindled my love of paper. And other peoples love of paper. Paper = money.

THEN we finally made it to Uwaji for some crabs. For real.
If you love your family to death, especially if they live in the midsweat, then you give you family crabs.

Or if youre Kurt, then you consider giving your family slutty geoducks.

Or ridiculous congee.

And as Kurddle and I awaited to part ways, the sky congratulated Kurt for being alive.

And we waited and waited with our crabs for the bus to come.

My dear friend Karl, happiest birthday and a lifetime of drooling joy.
When you leave for Jarpin, I will hate you forever.
Until Travis and I see you in the fall.

* * *

And in other news! Like my uncle Kim Jong Il.... I got a perm!

And in other other news! Im learning SOOOO MUCH about my dad's family's escape from North Korea in 1951.
They escaped on my birthday! January 14, 1951. But Im not THAT old.


My Fangs