I’m an idiot. I know that I am. Why else would I use the moniker Black Barbie? Anyhoo, Korea has its share of Barbies as well. I guess that’s why most of the time I felt at home and pissed off at the same time. So, here’s yet another mini racist rant on why I really shouldn’t try to learn any more Korean. As usual, enjoy, comment, mock!
F. M. Laster
“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West
This is Why I Don’t Learn More Korean
Hey, Korea you sexy thing, it has been a minute since we’ve come to blows. Not quite sure why this has happened. Maybe it’s because I have become a punk bitch or I’m losing interest in you. I think the later is quite a possibility. Seriously Korea, you are starting to bore me. Even having people follow me, staring, and point at me is not about you. I am sorry to say Korea, no, that was not about you. I would love to say it is, but it’s not. You are not responsible for this round. However, cheer up; next time, it could be all about you. For now, it is all about my new building and me!
Yes, my school loves me. Not really; the lease for the old place was up, and a friend of a friend of a friend of the vice principal had a place for the school, and they took over the lease. Now, my Korean is far from perfect; however, from what I can understand and what Moon Yeoung is telling me the vice principal had a little something-something on the side.
What’s a little infidelity among people, eh? Well, it turns out the VP’s side piece was an 18-year-old former student who mysteriously had to “go away.” Get this; the kid was male. Now I like them young dumb and hung too, but this was too young even by my standards! Now people, enough gossip, on to my new place.
Not only is my new building much cleaner, bigger, and generally more magical than that shoebox hey had me living in, it has twice as many elevators. Considering my old place was a walkup, by twice as many elevators means, I have two elevators! Yeah me. This place is like a castle, without of course the moat, the many, many rooms, the rich wall coverings and the huge staff of servants. Like with great power comes great responsibility, so too with being in a building with two elevators. I am convinced that many a people do not understand the concept of how an elevator works.
Every other day or so as I am waiting for the elevator, some rando comes up beside me and pushes the exact same button several times. Perhaps they think that I haven’t bothered to push it yet, maybe they can’t see the light, or maybe, just maybe, they think I’m some idiot who can’t operate something as simple as an elevator. Then again, this is Korea, and since I don’t know them or related to them, I really don’t exist!
However, for this scenario, it is clear from the illuminated white light that Black Barbie has pushed the button to call for the elevator to come to her floor. It could also be true that for some reason people think that pushing the button like a maniac will magically make the elevator appear faster and we can all take it and get on with our lives! Even this is beyond the pale even for me.
When I was forced to witness this brand of stupidity in Texas Land, I struggled to get through the situation without bringing attention to the stupidity of the perpetrator’s actions. It’s only natural that my first response upon seeing it here in Korea Land is to come up with a list of bitchy backhanded compliment phrases on my way to work that I absolutely must get Moon Yeoung to translate into Korean for me. Unfortunately, by the time I get to work, I’ve talked myself out of learning Korean for the sake of being an ass. While at work, I like to pretend that I am a good person. No sense in letting all of Korea the type of bitch I can really be.