this is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass

In other news, i met up with yilo and hyung min at do hwa, a chi chi korean restaurant in the west village. there i was served delicious fried shrimps from a white bartender. damn that white boy sure knew how to prepare some good ass korean shrimps...actually, it was his mexican homeboy in the back that made em, i think.




tim joined us soon thereafter. suddenly i had the bright idea to suggest that we go bowling after me and yilo had a rousing scene recall session regarding the big lebowski. everyone was down. good call me.



we headed to bowlmoor lanes in the heart of greenwich village. they had some weird ass neon pin shit goin on and i couldn't see nada. unlike the picture, the lanes were completely dark and it fucked with my game to no end. i bowled a miserable 70 the first game but bounced back in fine form in the second round to capture a match-high 147. yilo only needed 6 pins in the last frame to beat tim and hyung min but he ended up knocking down 5. we tied. argh.

boozing in frushing

here are some photos from thursday night. me and brian headed out to flushing and chilled with some friends. we hit up bayside's version of porno palace and then went to new york new york which was completely freakin' empty. It was the first time I ever got a martini in a freakin' scotch glass.

as you can tell by our expressions, a good time was had by all.

wack

ok, something horrible happened. my roommate lost his job. do you realize what this means? it means my days are no longer roommate-free and his ample ass will now be on the couch 24-7. argh. But at least i know he probably won't be yoinking his pinga on our couch during the day cuz we have a big window in the living room so the people in the condos across the way would be able to see him (this is why he always watches TV in the dark at nite - at first i thought it was to achieve a cinematic effect...riiight.). I've been meaning to ask billy if he has the same problem with Sir Yoinks...damn, i hope they don't read this shit, oh well, i'll consider it like an anonymous note. too bad they don't have "masturbating on couch in living room" as a category on theyshouldknow, that web site where you can send nameless emails to people with stank breath and BO.

homeboy already realized that we'll be spending more time in each other's presence cuz he started being nice to me. what a phony. he offered to help me set up a new computer system by buying the parts separately from pricewatch or tom's hardware.

i say hell no because by his lame rationale, i will then be indebted to him for life, i.e. giving him cigarettes. bah. but i'm already in the market for a new computer, been looking on ebay for systems and found some interesting setups. this one guy sells bare bones systems for pretty cheap, around $500-600 for pentium 4, 2.2 Ghz, 256 RAM, GeForce vid card, DVD-ROM. check it out here.

we lost.





It was a good run. See you in 2006.

Here's 2 recent pics of my little nieces. Which hapa will turn out cuter?

Julia



Shinjee


ps. go korea!

one man gang

So I spent all day yesterday recovering from the drunken stupor I was in Friday night and early Saturday morning. Basically, I fell asleep from about the 78th minute to the penalty shootout. But then I was wide freakin awake. But drunk. I don't remember much from the game. But I sure was a meathead, though. I've been becoming more and more of a meathead when I'm super drunk and it's scaring me.

But this is only when I am drunk off my ass, mind you. Ok, so here's what happened. After the game, we all poured into the streets and had a big party down 32nd street. My voice is hoarse, of course. I jumped onto a telephone booth to snap some pictures for KoreAm and then someone handed me a big Korean flag to wave and me and some other guy led the crowd in a cheer. Then the fickle crowd got sick of us and the guy that handed me the flag wanted it back. My brothers got tired after a half hour and went to Yilo's to catch some sleep because we had to meet our cousins Tina and Esther for lunch the next day. At freakin 11:30 at that. So I told them I'd meet them there.

Here's where it gets interesting. After my brothers left I somehow transformed from jubilant soccer fan to rowdy hooligan. I celebrated with the crowd for about 20 more minutes then got tired and started walking back. Some white guy rode by on a bike and muttered something derogatory to me. I don't remember exactly what but I do remember that the night before some guy in the back of a taxi yelled, "Korea sucks!" and maybe I was remembering that. In any case, the guy on the bike was talking shit. That's all I needed. I saw a half-eaten slice of cheese pizza on the sidewalk and decided that I would get my revenge on the shit-talking bike rider. He was quickly making his way down the street towards Penn Station and I started a brisk jog. Just my luck, I see that he stopped in front of Penn to talk to some people. So I slowly crept up and lined up my shot. When I was within range I hurled the large slice with all my might.

My aim was true and I hit him squarely between the shoulder blades. It was a great shot from about 15 feet away and I kind of felt like I was assassinating the president or something. I didn't wait to hear any reaction from him and ran away around a corner. I took off my red shirt and thought that my white undershirt was a good disguise and started calmly walking down the street, whistling Dixie.

About 2 minutes later, the bike rider rolls up beside me and goes, "Did you throw that pizza at me?" with a mean expression. I couldn't believe he tried to get revenge for my revenge. So I was like, "Yeah, motherfucker, that was me. Now I'm gonna kick your ass!" And I started towards him but he got scared and started riding away. It was then that I broke into a full sprint and he starts pedaling away with all his might. I consider myself pretty fast (4.85 seconds in the 40 yard dash) but this fucker is on a bike so what can i do. I was about even with him for an entire block, yelling at him to get back here and how I'm gonna beat his fucking ass motherfucker, yada yada yada.

It must of been funny for passerby seeing some Korean kid chasing a guy on a bike with a pizza stain on his back down 31st Street. Anyway, the guy finally gets away and I find myself walking down 8th Avenue, totally adrenalized from my meatheadness. So I decide to engage in some one-man hooliganism. I warm up by kicking bags of garbage into the street and then I get the bright idea to kick a newspaper machine. Damn, those things are strong. After about a block, I see a bus stop, one of those glass enclosed ones that look kind of like this. I take a running start and do a flying side kick into it and it completely shatters and I'm showered in bits of glass. I cut up my hand and arm in about 10 places and i start bleeding a lot. The blood is thick and gooey. I wipe it on my shirt to accentuate my insanity. People are staring at me. I take off my shoes and shake tons of broken glass outta them and continue on my way. At this point I've taken on the role of insane person and if anyone looks at me funny I snarl at them. This black guy was staring at me and I was like, "What?! You got a problem?" and he mumbles something about not having a problem and this older woman starts running away in fear. I pass by a Korean deli and yell "Go Korea!" at the top of my lungs and the hooliganism is complete. Somehow I make it to my brother's house and wash off the blood and pass out.

The end.