This is Why Mindy Doesn't Blog About Vacations: France Edition

The Pretty Reckless are rocking my world.  Thanks, Casey the Human.

And speaking of pretty reckless (I swear, I'm only listening to Baby Panda Taylor Momsen's seminal Courtney Love tribute band so that I may make epically bad puns), remember that one time I went to France?

No, say you?  Well sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...

Once, on a whim, I went to one of those sex toy parties with my mom and future sister-in-law.  I know, sometimes I make really good choices.   Anyway, the party was being held at a family friend's home, so of course it was teeming with middle-aged women chomping at the bit to down their first blow-job shots.  Believe me when I say there was a chorus of "oohs" and "ahhs" when the hostess brought those suckers out.  Wanting nothing more than to crawl into my sweater and disappear, I quietly ducked out of the room and parked myself in front of a computer.  My friend Dawn, of Leg Lamp fame, had been hassling me to book another trip abroad for a few weeks. (Although truth be told, I can't imagine why -- our last foray had been fraught with fuck-ups.)  I logged onto Yahoo Travel and tentatively searched flights to Europe. Luck was definitely a lady that night as I found a round-trip ticket from BFE Idaho to Paris for less than $500.  I booked two tickets immediately.

Unbeknownst to me, flying to Western Europe at that price is basically unheard of.  Four months later I found out why: Boise --> Minneapolis --> Detroit --> Paris.  No sweat off my back, I had my ladies to keep me company.  That was until we boarded in Detroit. Our boarding passes had no seat assignments.  We watched in horror as the entire jet was seated before the flight attendant even glanced our way.  With a plastic smile and a saccharine voice, she politely informed us that we may take whatever seats were leftover.

Fantastic.

Anji headed for the rear, Dawn somewhere in the middle.  Not wanting to be separated, Vivi and I plopped down in two choice spots: front and center aisle with plenty of leg room for the eight hour flight.  Not five seconds after buckling in, did I realize why these seats were conveniently vacant.  A portly man of about 50 years came ambling our way.  He parked himself next to me, then politely turned and asked me to buckle his seat belt.  WTF?

The man had no arms!  Like literally, no fucking arms!  All he had were two tiny, misshapen hands sprouting from his shoulders! 

*Now. In these types of situations I suppose there are really only two paths one can take.  1) You can play the foreigner card and feign any understanding of the English language, in which case you are a total prat, or 2) You can man up and help a brutha out.

So I reached over, and oh-so-delicately fastened my new friend's seat belt.  This being a trans-Atlantic flight and all, that was just the beginning.  Soon, the beverage cart came bustling down the aisle.  Coke for me, Orange Fanta for my new friend, who in my head I'd already coined Lieutenant Dan.  I politely popped my tab, took a swig, then popped his and held it to his mouth while he took a grateful chug. (Why the flight attendant never offered us a straw or why we never thought to ask is beyond me...)

Then came dinner service.  I can imagine what must have been running through Lieutenant Dan's head as he worked up the courage to ask me, a total stranger, to feed him dinner.  He was a perfect gentleman.  He turned to me and politely asked if, when I had finished my meal, might I be willing to do him a solid?  Being the non-douche that I am, I obliged.

And on it went through movie time, snack service, bathroom time, and breakfast service the next morning.  

Becoming so intimate so quickly is rarely how I operate.  I loathe the entire act of flying and almost never strike up conversations with my seat mates.  I certainly never expected to be feeding a middle-aged man so early in my adult-life, let alone on a Boeing 757.  But Lieutenant Dan was endearing and so was his story.  Apparently the Wifey, who was a Frenchie, had booked her flight home months prior.  Dan had no interest in seeing the In-Laws, so he declined her offer and opted to stay home.  After months of wifely nagging he decided to make the trek, but alas, Wifey's flight was all full.  And that was how he wound up on a plane unaided.  To make matter's worse, Genius Delta Flight Attendant had further emasculated him when she ordered he stow his Magic Wand Flex Grabber.  (Actually I have no idea what it was called, but multiple internet searches led me here and here.)

*Side note: google search "arm amputees" and you get this:

Anyway, that Flex Grabber was his ticket to freedom.  With it he could have easily unbuckled his seat belt, used the remote, and popped his own tab.

Nearing the end of our flight, he expressed his gratitude and invited the girlfriends and me to the In-Laws for a home cooked French meal.  I laughed and secretly hoped I'd get to see the Magic Wand Flex Grabber in action.  Soon after, we landed, I grabbed our luggage and we parted ways at the gate, but not before the Genius Delta Flight Attendant pulled me aside.

"I saw what you were doing there," she conspiratorially whispered in my ear.  "I wanted to say 'thank you' and to give you these coupons."  Then she thrust a grip of papers into my hands.  I was doing your fucking job, I thought to myself, but kept my mouth shut when I saw the coupons: $100 off my next flight and $50 in drink coupons!  WAHOO! Feeding Lieutenant Dan paid somewhere around $18 an hour -- better than my day job.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never buy plane tickets online whilst at a sex party with your mom and sister-in-law.

BTW, I never asked how he managed to unbutton his pants and hold his hooha all those times he got up to pee.  Methinks he sat, I suppose...

29 Truths and 1 Lie

I've gotten tagged in a handful of those "30 'random' things about yourself" Facebook notes over the past few days.  Since actually posting them on Facebook seems a bit, well, awkward (for lack of a better word), I guess I'll post them here.  After all, this is my blog, so the expectation that I talk about only myself is already in place.  Seems a bit less self-centered that way.  (Or mayhaps I'm just fooling you...)

So, in no particular order, may I present to you:

30 Random Things about Myself That I Haven't Already Overshared on the Internets

1. I am an avid collector of street posters.  I prolly have somewhere near 100, many of which are rolled up waiting for that day when I can finally afford to have them framed.  My favorite is an advertisement for a Gustav Klimt exhibit in Seoul that I've also affixed my entry ticket to.  I stole it from Anguk station in winter 2008.

2. There are two miniature plastic dairy cows permanently placed on my desktop speakers.  One has pink hooves, the other neon green.  They are my tiny pieces of pastoral bliss.

3. I do not miss my family nearly as much as I should.  This makes me feel guilty beyond belief.

4. I have read the entire Harry Potter series at least five times and I'm damn proud of it.

5. At 30, I have become incredibly selfish with my time and resources.  I want to have kids, but I am afraid that I wouldn't share well with them.

6. Last year I finally read The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.  It is a novel about love, relationships, monogamy, trust, betrayal, and companionship.  I am so thankful to have read it as a 30 year old woman, rather than at a naive 22.  Otherwise, I believe it would have beaten me down and stolen my will to connect with others.  It is easily among my top 10 most loved books.  (Behind 'Harry Potter' of course!)

7. I have a wretched short term memory and will often forget things 15, 10, even five minutes after discussing them...

8. However, I have an excellent sense of direction and can often relocate places I have visited just once.  This is prolly why I made such an epic pizza delivery girl.

Can I start making stuff up yet?  Damn, this is way harder than I thought...

9. I have very few rituals, or things I do methodically and consistently, however I always put my left sock and shoe on first, I always read Postsecret on Sunday mornings, and I never brush my teeth before bed.

10. If I am friends with you on Facebook and you've just had a child, I will publicly congratulate you, but I will privately block you from my news feed.  One person can only take so many "Jasper pooped like a champ!" or "Grayson is finally eating pea puree!" posts.  Come on.

11. I secretly envy Canadians' patriotism.  And their poutine.  America's got nothing on poutine.

12. Although I know it is absolutely professionally necessary for me to start and complete grad school, I am fucking scared shitless to return to the daily grind of schoolwork and homework.  Can't I get an honorary degree??

13. I almost never act on my crushes.  I let them silently fester.  It's more fun that way.

14.  My hair smells like maple bacon as I type this.  I made some kick-ass bacon sliders with homemade steak fries and grilled veggies for dinner.  I need a boyfriend if only to have someone to cook for.

15. If 2010 was The Year of Follow Through, then 2011 is The Year of New Beginnings.  

16. I am really afraid to go home.  It's as if I've passed some sort of threshold after which living in a foreign country is no longer a novelty, but also no longer really fucking hard.  It just is. I think this every time I go to the corner mart and my cashier speaks to me in English.  And every time I have dinner at Taco Bell.  

17. I wish I had the patience to learn a musical instrument.  Then my resume would be true...

18. When I was 16 I worked at Taco Bell.  At night, the manager on-duty was often a 19 year-old dude named Nick.  When he wasn't looking, we'd clean the hot table by wiping all the excess beans, meat, red and green sauces, and nacho cheese into the pizza sauce, as it was already really chunky and absolutely disgusting.  Also, we once served moldy flatbread -- we just friend those suckers up and served 'em as gorditas. I'ma go ahead and guess that every teenager at every Taco Bell in the history of the world has done this.  Fair warning!

19. I had a one night stand in a tent at a Dave Mathews Concert when I was 21.  So cliche.

Al. Most. There.

20. When I was 23, I got so drunk that when I puked, some of the upchuck got caught on my tongue ring (don't judge).  This made me even more nauseous and disgusted, so I puked even more.  When my stomach finally went into dry heaves, I stuck my fingers in my mouth, unscrewed that damn thang and flushed it down the toilet, along with the contents of my stomach.  Good riddance, tongue ring.

21. I will never bungee jump.  It's just stupid, y'all.

22. At age 8, I used to pop in my Dirty Dancing cassette and choreograph elaborate dances for my babysitter.  She would clap and holler and play along like a champ.  She was so good, in fact, that I was able to fool myself into thinking I was a good dancer well into adulthood.  I both love and hate her for this.

23. When I was a junior in high school my chemistry class, indeed the entire front half of my high school, was evacuated.  The SWAT team was called and everyone was in a panic because the old curmudgeonly man across the street was firing shotgun rounds into the air.  Apparently he was pissed at all the whippersnappers for parking in front of his house.  That man was my great uncle.  I never told anyone.

24. I have only ever called in hungover once.  But I have called in emotionally distraught countless times.

25. Name that movie: 

"Charlie, what do you look for in a woman?"

"I know everyone says 'sense of humor', but I'd really have to go with breast size."

26. I has taken me over an hour to complete this.  In that time I have eaten five Oreos and drank two glasses of milk; cleaned my ears and my fingernails; gone pee; changed into pajamas; IMDB'ed Angela Bassett; and thought of at least three new ways to secretly insult my boss. 

27. In order to earn my Sous Chef title and apron, I must first cook a three course meal for Grandpa and Eurohot.  I cook everyday, and yet this is overwhelmingly intimidating.  But dammit, I deserve that apron!

UGH.

28. I have no idea who the British Prime Minister is, but I can name all the countries of South America, Africa, Europe and Asia. Does that make up for my glaring hole in geopolitical knowledge?

29. I spelled 'whore' without a 'W' last week and didn't even notice.  I think Asia is making me dumber.

30. I'm always in it for the laughs.

That's it folks.

This is Why Mindy Doesn't Blog About Vacations: Costa Rica Edition

When I was 24 I bought a ridiculously cheap plane ticket to Costa Rica.  After taking my sweet-ass time to finish college, it was the least I could do for myself.  So two days after graduation, my friend Dawn and I headed south for two glorious, sun-drenched weeks of absolutely zero responsibility.  To say it was an adventure would be an understatement.  This being my first experience out of Uhmerika, I was overwhelmed with the, well, foreignness of everything.  My brain literally ached from all the mental translating. (Mayhaps this is why I stubbornly refuse to learn Korean...)

Anyway, hopping a ride on a rickety bus from Puntarenas to Jaco Beach, we arrived to find our American-run hostel in EXTREME disrepair. No worries, we thought, and hiked up the street to The Beautiful and Luxurious Best Western Jaco Beach. At $30 a night, it was a motherfucking steal: private beach, manicured grounds, and full continental breakfast. Yes, please!  We booked three nights.

For two days we were queens; we lounged carelessly next to the pool and ordered fruity drinks. We plowed through tattered paperbacks while our skin turned the color of bad 70's hard case luggage.  And then tragedy struck. Whilst frolicking on the beach and generally creating merriment and joy, a rogue wave crashed into my left knee and slid my kneecap out of place. As you may well know, I'm a Drama Queen and I generally do not care who knows it.  I dropped to the sand, writhing and screaming in agony.  This being a private beach and all, The Beautiful and Luxurious Best Western Jaco Beach immediately came to my rescue by calling an ambulance.

Amidst great crisis, we've all had those moments of lucidity and thought, "I should really get a picture of this. For posterity's sake, of course." No such moment struck me and I have been kicking myself (with my good leg, of course) ever since. See, the "ambulance" was actually a white hearse whose prime was sometime around the Eisenhower Administration.  The driver was a tanned man in his twenties who wore cut-offs and a t-shirt, and stopped to pick up a buddy on the way to the "hospital".

But wait, it gets better.

Once in the "emergency room" the "doctor" took one look at my kneecap and pronounced with great certainty that I most definitely needed "surgery" and was to be airlifted back to Puntarenas ASAP!  He then pulled out a gargantuan syringe and offered ease my suffering. My emotions went into overdrive and I pleaded with Dawn to get me the fuck out of there, post haste.  Dawn was a champ.  Without a second thought she wheeled me back out to the dirt road, shoved my screaming ass into the first cab and "andale"-ed all the way back to The Beautiful and Luxurious Best Western Jaco Beach.

By this time, my knee was the size of a grapefruit, but my tears had subsided.  My spirits were further lifted when The Beautiful and Luxurious Best Western Jaco Beach offered me a set of crutches and 40% off our current room rate.  We booked three more nights.

Poolside recovery seemed to suit me, for just a few days later I was showing Dawn my now-famous "A Christmas Story" fra-jee-lay leg lamp impersonation:



I have a whole other vacation story starring Mindy's early 2000's foray into bad Mandarin-inspired tattoos, but that's for another post...


*Not so interesting side-note: I am, perhaps, not-so-conspicuously avoiding real life, current event blogging. Get ready for more Back to the Future posts, y'all.

Musings from Blue Class

I want to work today. I really do.  But seeing as how Boss Lady (in a stroke of frugal geniosity) outfitted the school with Samsung notebooks sans Microsoft Office, I have nothing better to do than blog the afternoon away. 

*In reality, I have a shit ton of work to complete, but access to the network is blocked. And also, Blue Class is driving me abso-fucking-lutely bonkers today.

That is all.

Hana, Dul, Set... Thanksgiving

Once again, I'm 'bout a week and change late on my annual Thanksgiving post. Maybe it's because in the past week I've become all introspective and contemplative and I soft.  Where did the snark go, you ask?  I ate it.  Along with about two pounds of turkey (we had three this year), Grandpa's homemade stuffing, Justin's hobak juc, Jon's green salad, and a myriad other offerings at this year's Thanksgiving.

This was my third T-Day with Jamie and Jonathan and Jinhee (last year Justin was there in spirit, as he was living it up in Palm Springs.) And for that, I am thankful.

A Very Norae Thanksgiving 2010, the one with the epic game of Trivial Pursuit

Thanksgiving 2009, the one with the most Canadians and an epic game of Dirty Scrabble

Thanksgiving 2008, the one with the Jewish turkey and a bacon yarmulke

I am thankful for my circle of supportive, interesting friends, both in SoKo and at home.

I am thankful for My Weekday Mistress, who, when I first met her, took me to coffee, then promptly told me she wasn't really looking for new friends. She better be thankful that I give second chances.  But honestly, just thinking of going home and not laughing with her everyday is already making me sad beyond belief.

I am thankful for Grandpa, who, in the past three years has gone from being my boss to my best SoKo friendo.  He is quite possibly the most open-minded, non-judgemental person I have ever had the pleasure of befriending. And he can cook like a mofo.

I am thankful for Blue Class.  They may have single-handedly (is that possible since there are ten of them) turned on my biological clock.  Everyday they amaze me with their ability to absorb and retain and apply all the retarded things I teach them.

I am thankful for Stephanie, my BFFAE. She is an amazing listener, a constructive critic, a supportive friend and an epic ass-shaker.  I miss her everyday.

I am thankful for Justin's humor, talent and thoughtfulness.  He wrote this piece for themorningnews.org (which I love and think is fantastic, BTW) and even gave 'ol Idaho a shout out. And he can cook like a mofo.

But most of all I am thankful for my family.  I know I have been an epic pain in the ass this year, and they have always been supportive of my choices.  It's always easier to be the one who leaves, rather than the one left behind, and sometimes I forget that.  As hard as it is for me to miss out on their lives, I know it is just as hard for them to not be an everyday part of mine.  This year especially, I needed them more than ever.  I am glad to know they are always just a skype call away. (You didn't really think I would finish this post without mentioning skype, did you?!)

*Interesting sidenote: I must be all grown up because I was not thankful for one material, tangible thang this year.  AHA! American Materialism, I have finally BEAT you!

The Freak Out, Part One

Ladies and gentlemen, it has finally happened. After two+ years of using and abusing the free (read: I just bought my 15th toffee nut latte this month and I DESERVE it) wireless, Starbucks has finally cut me off.  KT is now sponsoring all ‘Bucks wi-fi and is asking me to pay for the service. Please. As if I wasn’t already paying...

So I’m composing this post on Appleworks (yes, I know).  Hopefully it gets posted in a timely manner.

Alright, about that freak out. A mere six months ago, my blathering and bitching and moaning came to a head when I emailed my stepfather, asking him to get me the fuck out of dodge.  Yes.  I did that. I am not proud of it.  I was in a bad place.  Exhausted, miserable, lonely and full of spite, I was ready to pull the plug on this bitch and start fresh at home.  Besides, he offered to foot the bill after reading this.  Apparently my parents were all sorts of worried about my winter time carousing and thought I was seriously fucked up.  I don’t blame them.  

But then a whole slew of thangs happened that turned my frown upside down, and it started with three little words: Stop being stupid.  Wise words, Grandpa.  Guess he didn’t earn that nickname for nothing.  After a week of playing the “should I stay or should I go now” game, I called up Grandpa from classroom 405 and dumped all my frustration on him .  His response? Stop being stupid. So I extended my contract one more time, and vowed to make peace with Seoul.  I broke the news to the family, assuring them I would do my best to be home for Christmas, and all but promising I would indeed be home at the end of this contract.

In protest, my mother used up all her skymiles and bought a ticket to come visit.  If I was willing to tough it out, I guess she figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about.  To say I was ecstatic is a gross understatement.  I was fucking beside myself!  Suddenly the world was filled with rainbows and unicorns and chubby-cheeked babies all singing We Are the World.  Immediately I started a countdown.
There were so many things to see and do and buy and discover.


HongdaeItaewonGangnamddoekbukiInsadongnoraebangjimjalbangsubwayshoppingBusan! 

AHHHHHHH! 

In my cloud of excitement, a funny thing happened: my sadness all but disappeared.  With a newfound focus and fresh eyes for Seoul,  I called a truce with the city. Seoul is a bitch, but I decided I could rough it out with this frenemy, as long as she promised to keep it together for moms.

As the summer wore on, My Weekday Mistress and I became closer.  Thursday Night Taco Bell Bitch Sessions turned into weekend rendevous.  Before I knew it, our weekday affair had bled into the weekend and I got to meet her wife. Basking in our newfound love for all things TB and Glee, we planned a trip to Taiwan for Chuseok.  Again, my focus shifted from bitching to planning.  Sadness was staved off once again.

Before I knew it, Halloween was around the corner, along with a two week vacation, and mom’s impending Korean Takeover.  Nothing could stop me; I was on cloud nine.  With the spring’s bitterness all but forgotten, I boarded the airport limo to Incheon to retrieve moms.

For seven fun-filled days we shopped, explored, laughed, and cried.  She was adventurous and outgoing and seemed to really enjoy herself here.  I had an excellent time playing tour guide and wowing her with my shamefully limited Korean speaking abilities (I think I fooled her, though.) The visit allowed her to see my life in a way she never had.  As a thirty-year-old college grad, she was aware (in the abstract, at least), that I am independent.  However, I’m not sure she (or I, for that matter) really understood what that meant before she got here.  For seven days she relied upon me for everything.  I will admit this was an intense burden and by the time the week was up, I was ready to have my life back.  

After a particularly raucous evening of cooking and drinking with Grandpa, Eurohot and Jonhee, we piled into a cab and headed for Gangnam.  We had all consumed copious amounts of wine and beer and were fairly lit when she asked, “So, have you thought about staying?”

The question caught me off guard and I was truly unsure how to answer.  Of course I had thought about staying.  My job is going well, I have an awesome circle of friends who regularly amaze me with their wit, talent, and resourcefulness, and I have affordable health insurance.  At this point, America’s only batting .33 on this front -- Korea 1, America 0.  But I don’t think I had admitted this to myself, let alone actually said it out loud.  Besides, admitting that yes, a part of me wanted to stay, was akin to slapping my mother in the face (at least in my mind.)  

So I said no, not really.  To say she planted the seed is unfair, however, since her visit I have been more and more unsure as to my next move.  To make matters worse, my boss *just* asked me to re-sign for another year.

*Parenthetically: OMFG YOU GUYS, I cannot believe she asked me to stay!!  I have worked my ass off to make her life a living hell this year.  Just goes to show that the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t...  Also, I told her no.

Anyway, I feel like I just puked up three months worth of neurosis into one epically long and boring post.  I’ll finish this bitch tomorrow...

And back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Top Ten Things I Did Instead of Blogging: November Edition

10. Sat on my ass in Starbucks for six hours a day, five straight days, and wrote the mother of all essays. Those crazies in the School of Social Work better recognize.

9. Moms came to Ko-ree-yah and brought me a shiny new Nikon. Hilarity ensued.

 

8. Casey, my Weekday Mistress, is now old, just like me. To celebrate, she subjected all her peeps to a two-week-long game of ASSASSIN! My assassin better pray to god we never meet in a drunken soju haze, because I will cut a bitch. Andrew Haglin, you are officially on notice.

7. To better meet my "laying around on my ass in my pajamas" needs, I bought a couch. Yeah, two and a half years in with four months to go, I finally bit the bullet.  The boys call it the Norae Couch.

6. I read this book. Do not read this book. I actually think I am stupider because of it... See?!

5. It's Christmas Drama time again, and this year Blue Class is doing a rousing rendition of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".  The Know-It-All is the Grinch, Bueller, Bueller is Cindy-Lou Who and the rest of my hooligans play Whos 1-7. Yeah, I got SUPER creative this year...

4. After watching my washing machine fill up with water, then shut itself off for the THIRD time in one night, I hauled my ass up to the Building Ajumma's.  Maybe she could Koreason with it.  Please.  She took one look at the ancient machine, sighed, and started pulling my clothes from the icy water.  I tried my best to stop her, I really did, but when she insisted on doing my laundry, how could I possibly resist?! Twenty minutes later she returned with my jeans and tees neatly folded, along with a few photos of her summer vacation to "Harbar-duh".  So sweet!

3. Flickr finagled me into another year's subscription. I have uploaded nearly five year's worth of vacation pics, from Central America to Asia. If you enjoy perusing the vacations of others (and really, who DOES?), have a look. But don't say I didn't warn you: I am boring. http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindywindy/

2. The Chef (but he'll always be Grandpa to me!) hosted another epic Thanksgiving. More on that later.

These were the die hard stragglers hell-bent on grazing for as long as possible.

1. And the number one thing I've been doing for the past month?

Freaking the Fuck Out.  

In less than three months, my *final* contract in Korea ends and I am set to return to the Land of the Living.  I am literally scared shitless, because after nearly three years of living in this Kimchi Paradise, I'm not sure how I'll fit back into my life in I-dee-ho.

I think these last two deserve entire blog posts of their own. so for now, I'll leave you with this:


*Thanks mom! See, I'm totally putting the new Nikon and two years of high school photog classes to good use.