Toilet Follies and more Shitty Humor

So I just got finished unleashing the furies of my bowels when I became suddenly aware of, while I was pushing with the might of Zeus, a very unfortunate fact. I was relegated to one square of wiping cleanliness. Ever run into this problem? Obviously not because you are probably in a country that actually stocks toilet paper. Sometimes I really have to shake my head and wonder of all the cheap they could think of, was toilet paper seriously an expense they want to cut back on? I should probably go shake everybody’s hand after shitting all over the place like an un-toilet trained monkey, but even I reel at this little fact. At least in a place like Japan they recognize the cold hard fact that everybody must take a shitty time and hand out free small packets of tissues advertising seductive-soapland-happy endings-meloveyoulongtime locale’s that cater to loaded otaku’s with a fetish for tightly dressed latex women that lie in bed like a dead fish while they drool over her like a retard while using strange foreplay methods that make them pre-maturely ejaculate. Well there is no such luxury here because frankly Koreans are too cheap for that shit. Which is why I would like you to imagine me shitting in a stall, mid-squat accidently punching a hole through the one square of precious toilet paper and then thinking FUCCKCKCKCKCKCKCKC, immediately followed by ewww gross….I think I feel a nugget… Neways, this is followed by my olfactory sense being assaulted by a mixture of my own feces and the dude before me that left very aesthetically pleasing shit specks all over the porcelain urinal. If you haven’t lost your morning breakfast, lunch and dinner from reading this, we’re just getting started.
After triple checking that I haven’t just shit all over my own pants and ensuring that I don’t leave skid-marks the size of the grand canyon all over my boxers, I promptly adjust myself, check once more that I haven’t shit on myself nor left piss stains the size of texas on my trousers, adjust 12 incher again and then finally zip up my pants feeling like I have just won the special Olympics for not making a boo-boo on my pants. Every shit is an adventure in Korea!

Ah, but to the uninitiated, the full picture has not been drawn. Since when have there. So the Korean’s enjoyed shitting in holes so much, when their economy turned less shitty and they could go from living underground into wooden shacks and finally to ultra compact tiny ass fucking rooms with a family in it, they couldn’t lose the sentimentality of well… shitting in a hole. And thus the squatting toilet was born, yes I just said it. Hence we have now come to an impasse where we have to specify “Western Toilet.” Unfortunately for me, there is a grand total of one men’s bathroom where I work and they all happen to be of one style. Which is where the history of Kung Fu is passionately intertwined with this. Furthermore, light has been shed on where the mighty horse stance has come about. The story goes something like this:

One day master Wang was in a hurry.

“Ah master what is wrong?”

“You fucking idiot move out of the way.”

“But master today you promised to train me in the ways of the Man…”

“Shut the fuck up you insolent twat I need to shit.”

“Ah forgive me master, I thought your expression was one of great chi mastery.”

“Don’t lecture me on chi you idiot, shut the fuck up so I can shit.”

“Ah but master I thought this was a way of training the turtle peeks out?”

“If I have to listen to anymore of your shit, I will shit in your mouth okay.”

“I would be honored.”

My Kung Fu is becoming stronger daily as I sink lower and lower telling myself to master the horse stance and one day shit standing up. Damn I’m a baller.

Voting is for Pussies

Foreword: In light of the uplifting events of our great country, I’m writing something trendy and pertinent.

There I said it. Why? Because it’s now supposed to be cool and hip to vote, fuck you communist socialists. I’m all about being a real life rebel and I lead by fucking example baby. That’s why I consequently didn’t vote like I have well… all my life. O, that makes me non-hypocritical as well, wow I’m such an awesome person you know. So I’d like to point you to what my deciding factors of not voting this time were or perhaps I should call them subconscious factors:

Big motherfucking reason number 1:

"I felt like my vote was the vote that put him into office. It was down to one vote, and that was going to be my vote. And that may not be true, but that's how much power it felt like I had," the hip-hop mogul said.

After spending much of the presidential campaign season using his star wattage to get other people to the polls, Diddy, like other celebrity political boosters, spent the day leading by example. He arrived at his polling site — a school in midtown Manhattan — in the morning and waited in line as a bevy of media prepared to capture the moment. Diddy said he believed he was potentially making history by voting for the first black president in U.S. history, and also felt the weight of the past in the voting booth. "I'm not trying to be dramatic, but I just felt like, Martin Luther King, and I felt the whole civil rights movement, I felt all that energy, and I felt my kids," he said. "It was all there at one time. It was a joyous moment."

-PDiddy

O really Mr. PDiddy, did you happen to build a fucking time machine to take you back so you could experience the “movement” first hand or does the “movement” happen to feel like rolling around in a fat pile of cash every night while fucking two paraplegic prostitutes for novelty? If you just read the above quotes, you have just wasted a precious seconds of your life that you will never recover. I’ve wasted more by posting this shithead quote, so you have quite honestly outwitted me in this case. The first time I read this was like the first time I dry heaved looking at an obese woman naked, please don’t ask for details. It reeked of cellulite ass cheeks and disturbing stretch marks. Why am I glad I didn’t vote, because I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to be in line with this ass-clown. Translation: “Hey look I’m PDiddy, I’m being held down by da white man. They just don’t feel me, them government fools be taxing all my monies. Maybe a blackman in da Whitehouse will finally understand me. Blah blah blah.” Here was the thought process in this man’s head… HE BE BLACK VOTE YES! You sure as hell don’t see white people talking about Martin Luther King and shit, Nigga please. I’ll say it again, NIGGA PLEASE. The fact this asshat actually had the gal to make voting hip and cool means that the retards have just come out of the wood shed and decided the president. Yes, you heard me fucking retards are out on the loose, on our streets making a decision that might actually matter. O shit! Where’s ma shotgunz! I bet if I took a microphone to the polls and asked most college aged kids why they voted for O-o-o-obaaama, they would give me inane dribble that would probably be either wrong or completely stupid. Maybe they’ll just look at me like a drooling retard, because well… they don’t have a fucking reason to vote for him. Guess what, he hasn’t said shit, he’s walked the everyman line to win this, the feel good O Great America is going to rise up and fuck every other country in the ass with a 12 inch dildo bullshit. The founding fathers are rolling in their graves when we have a largely retarded population deciding what matters. That’s right, the majority are a bunch of rabid pitch fork raising rednecks that couldn’t figure the difference between their dicks and assholes. We are fucked.

The End

That’s right, those are factors listed above, there’s only need for one excuse not to vote. Damn I’m such a rebel, it feels good to be a gansta.

Diamonds Are Forever...… (but your Korean(Kimchi) Virginity won’t)

6:55 PM Captain obvious announces over the loud speaker the time, weather…blahblahblah Singapore stewardess sits at her “landing station” in her Macarana-esque dancing form fitting outfit. Reminds me of Enrique Englasies’s hit single Tonight we Dance. Strangely arousing, passion of the loins begins to tingle until I realize that the seat belt she is wearing is vastly superior to my own(like a cockpit pilot), doesn’t my life count too? Maybe on business class I’ll get an inflatable seatbelt…

7:05 PM Having been the good Samaritan on the plane, I had traded places with some old dude.

Pros: The seat next to me was empty meaning other dude doing something crazy like actually flying to Singapore(who does that on Singapore Airlines) and I use Mr. Lost Profit’s seat as extra baggage/blanket and tray space. Poor sucker got to sit next to his wife…

Cons: I realize I’m way far away from my carry-on, so I sit there twiddling my thumbs and sweating like an idiot with his coat on because he planned for an early exit. I’m impatient guy, time waits for me. Annoyance and jealously meter builds up as I see other passengers obtain their carry-on’s with ease, they were good at playing Simon Says and did the ridiculous thing of sitting in assigned seats. Corporate Suites and Borg Drones, Fuckem. I didn’t even get window seats boo-hoo.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy hot Korean chick, who I make eye-contact with for a split second before being relegated to friend zone.

7:15PM I take my first couple steps into foreign lands, I do what Columbus probably did when he first set foot into the new world, ran like a bitch to the nearest toilet and took an EPIK PISS(see wut I did there).

7:20PM Looking progressively lost in this cavernous deserted hell…I mean airport known as Incheon terminal I finally spot hot Korean chick again and begin to stalk her. She gets on a tram, I hesitate for a moment as everyone else runs on, a quick question to rent-a-cop ensures that I was just being a silly goose and that the tram takes you to the MAIN TERMINAL where living life forms are said to reside. In hindsight(always a bitch) of all the traffic to the great Mecca of Korea, they decided it was necessary to have fancy trams to take you from empty terminal to…EMPTY TERMINAL. I spy hot Korean girl again, she is talking on the phone and my balls shrink in the washer.

7:30PM I run through customs like a stupid foreigner. Although the booth is clearly labeled as foreigner, the lady staffing the desk proceeds to blurt out Korean before I give her the Asian ‘I’m a retard’ look. She takes pity and stamps my passport.

7:45PM I feel fat and I’m sweating under the sports blazer I’m wearing, damn my Asian ingenuity and wearing an extra jacket to reduce weight. BTW I’ve brought too much shit, someone please steal from me now… I pay in kind for having to carry two large suite cases and a carry-on. I sweat some more and begin feeling insecure. No one else carries my burden, I am alone. Hot Korean Girl has disappeared; I’m left to stare at mediocre Korean Girl. My Penis is sad.

Suit cases come now.

I must now declare some shit.

Why is Haiku Hard.

7:50PM It briefly flashes through my mind that I should be a boy scout and declare the Swiss Army Knife that I have brought with me. Thoughts of those Korean movies with their gangsters and pimps flash through my mind, I realize I might have to shank a motherfucker one day and declare I have no narcotics shoved up my anus. All goes well, I like Korea already.

7:52PM I walk out the door into what seems like an air conditioned room, O wait I’m wearing a jacket. I scan for my name amongst the crowd hoping that I’m not severely fucked. Turns out I’m more disappointed by the poorly sharpied ‘Johnathan’ and the fact that the person holding it has a penis. Surprise.

8:05PM Old dude has killed a tree for my benefit, I follow him as he gives a giggle over a man having more than one suitcase, I giggle because he actually rented one of those stupid $1 carts to push my shit 5 feet, hint : there are two of us and they have wheels dude. In car we drive, he respect Korea Pride, we say nothing. He points at the GPS meter like a monkey, I ‘Ooh’ ‘Aah’ like a female Chimpanzee being fellated. I quickly come to realize that the holy 65 is about sacred as slaughtering lambs in front of Jesus as various cars blaze past us at 130, guess what we were going at. After literally passing through five toll booths, we may have arrived at my grungy destination. After getting lost in this fantastic alley way maze, he finally gets out and asks for directions. He busts out ‘wait here Jon’ I say wait…shit I don’t know your name… We are like blood brothers, he has been my spiritual guide in this sparkling ghetto. I hope I don’t have to pay the cab fare…

8:30PM I am dropped off with what appears to be a slightly more knowledgeable man. Just kidding. He greets me in Korean, I say sorry I Weetaded. After all, who waits for the new foreign teacher to arrive when you aren’t being paid, silly rabbits.

What is about to ensue is like a scene straight from Le Femme Nikita, Besson’s one of two non-shithouse films. I walk into the house, my blood brother and new dude in a yellow jump suit argue boisterously(talk) about the current predicament. They couldn’t fool me because it sounded like I fucked up big time, they were calling a cleaner for my ass. After ten(three) phone calls, the first being my agent, telling me well… nothing cause he’s already banked off my ass and the next being her. It was the principal. In her uncannily manish voice she begins telling me that I was alone, confused and afraid. I am? Mid-way in her trance I can no longer tell whether I was speaking with a “woman” or a tranny cyborg with a peg leg. I began chanting “Eat Kimchi, Eat Kimchi”, where’s my knife?

First impression is good, demonstrated ability to make complete sentences… O wait saying ‘Oh Ok’ in unconvincing intervals doesn’t mean jack shit. First impression check. The conversation is semi-fruitful omitting the fact that she wanted me to role play as Paul Walker in Running Scared. My circular logic abilities fail me as I have yet to figure out who the fuck guy in yellow jump suit is… perhaps this is for serious. Guy in yellow jump suit finally give me his name when I ask and makes a heroic Robinson Caruso-like effort at pointing out how my apartment works, light switches, thermostat and… more light switches. His pride has been salvaged and my chance to read a semi-coherent English letter has arrived. I giggle.

“I will come to see you on Saturday afternoon if possible. Then I will try to touch you in any way.”

Yellow Jump Suit is still outside fretting in Korean, no worries I was not about to strangle myself with a lamp light until three months in minimum. In other news, I’m an asshole… For serious though, at least they care enough to go through all this trouble to accommodate me. We’ll see how much they hate me in a month.

To Be Continued...