you must be crazy...

There's this teacher who just passed by my desk.
Her English name is Scarlet.
She said she got it from the movie "Gone with the Wind."
I never watch the flick, but I figure one of the characters must be named Scarlet.
The only Scarlet I know of is the one from "The Scarlet Letter."
Was her name even Scarlet?
I don't even remember.
Although, I'm kinda doubting myself right now.
Anyways, that's what I think of when I hear that word/name.
Wasn't that lady from the scarlet letter some whore-bag or something?
Now, this teacher isn't a whore-bag (at least I don't think), but she sure looks like one.
She's like 50 or 60, has hecka long, dyed hair, has a face caked with make up, always wears short skirts and boots, wears hecka perfume, and sometimes talks in one of those annoying "i'm cute" voices.
She's strange.
She used to sit 2 desks away from me, but recently moved offices, so each time she sees me, she's always like, "Jane, come visit me! Why don't you come visit me? I'm on the 4th floor!"
Now, lady, why would I take the time to climb 2 flights of stairs to talk to a 50 or 60 year old woman who calls herself Scarlet... by choice, mind you?
I mean, c'mon!!!
Sure, she's nice and all, but does she honestly think I'm going just casually visit her to chit-chat?
I don't think so.

This is completey switching subjects, but I'm so happy it's Friday.
Once this day is over, I can head over to Seoul and relax.
Yesssssssssss.......................................

so ugly...

I never realized, until quite recently, how much bad breath bothers me.
I don't understand how people can be so oblivious to their own stanky breath.
It's like they are farting through their mouths.
Now, I have been guilty of this crime myself - yes, it should be a crime.
I personally hate brushing my teeth, I really do.
However, when I do brush, I make sure I take the time to do it right.
Remember, the tongue.
You must brush the tongue.
Oh, my friend, you will gag, but the end result will leave you minty fresh.
Eugene, I'm not only talking about you here, but I must say, whenever I think about stanky breath, you are probably the first person who pops into my mind.
Stanky breath + golden teeth = Eugene

This morning, I was talking to this kid who lived in South Africa for a few years and his breath was hummin.
Yuck!
The way he talks is really unusual.
It's a mix between a Korean accent, a British accent, and something else.
It's really ugly to listen to.
He always says "ok" as "aewww-kayyy."
It's so annoying.
It's like, are you korean? english? african? southern? an alien, perhaps?
His breath, his accent, and his ugly face make me want to dislike him... to hit him, even.
It's true.
I know it's very terrible for me to feel this way, but there must be someone that you know of that makes you feel the same way.
Like, Usher or that one girl from "10 things i hate about you" (i have temporarily forgotten her name).
Right?
I mean, think of Ja-Rule, with his mole-like face, his phony, husky voice... doesn't it make you just want to sock the guy?
Man, my list can go on and on.
Here's another one, but this is only for the Changstas...
That one dude from church.
He looks like an overgrown mole.
You know, he's always with the youth group kids and he always says, "ya" to Eugene.
Now, tell me that you don't want to smush his face with your fist.
puahahahaha.
Or how about that one P... I will not say his name, because it feels kinda sacrilegious or something, but he's that one P who went to the picnic and made Allen go back to church to open the door for some lady.
You know who I'm talking about?

Okay, okay, I'll stop being so evilish.

crazy............

Here are my siblings in a nutshell:
Eugene is a human version of Hobbes - all obese and sloth-like, with a hella deep belly button...
Jamie is a shopaholic...
Cheddie is a drunken bastard...
They make me laugh.
I never talk to them on the phone, so the only way I know what they are up to is by our occasional emails and by reading their blogs.
I swear, my family is full of some crazy-arse people.
The only common characteristic we all share is our slight insanity.
Like, we all laugh ourselves silly when Eugene flips his ugly cat in the air like an Italian flips his pizza dough.
And, we will literally go at each other necks over the last melon bar (it's an ice cream. ched, what does the color remind you of?).
And, we all love to put each other down to show how much we care.
There was even a time when we made a family newsletter.
I'm not quite sure why we did this or if we have any copies, but that newsletter was funny as hell.
We weren't little kids or anything when we wrote it either... we were all in college or high school.
(As my disclaimer, I never participated in the writing process. Although, it's not because I didn't want to, it's because I'm not an Englishy person, remember? Plus, my family would probably of have laughed at me...)

But, wait, let's not forget about my parents.
Yes, they are crazy as hell, too... where do you think we all get it from?
My dad, for example, said us kids were cheap and he hated us when we gave him a stack of books for Christmas.
This would be somewhat understandable if it wasn't for the fact that he said he didn't want anything in the first place or how he told me how much he would like to read those books or how we gave him other stuff in addition to the books.
My dad also likes to go to the bathroom and use the first toothbrush he sees.
It doesn't matter to him that he has his own or that my mom labeled it with a big "D" so he would stop using all of ours.
Needless to say, there have been many a toothbrush that have been tossed in the trash because of this.

My mom is the queen of crazy.
She's the type of person who backs out of the driveway, without fully looking behind her, and comes within inches of flattening someone.
Then, when we yell at her like, "Mom! Stop! Geez, what's wrong with you? Didn't you see that person?"
She'll respond with, "Well, they should have seen me backing up."
She also wakes up at the ungodly hour of 6am to go hiking.
Now, no one in the right state of mind would do something like that.
Oh, and she also likes to feed her poor, hungry children old, rotty food.
And, she likes to deny it.

And people wonder why I am the way I am.

baseball...

Korea wins!
Korea defeats Japan in the World Baseball Classic, 2:1, advancing to the semi-finals!!!
Yahooooooooooooooooo!!!

White Day...

I have a stalker.
Okay, maybe not a stalker.
But, this kid loves me.
He's my secret admirer, minus the "secret."
Alright, I may be overstating all of this.
To be honest, I'm basing all of this on two meetings with the kid.

Yesterday was White Day.
White day is basically Valentines Day, without all of the red.
Also, it's a day where guys gives candy to the girls.

Well, Monday-Wednesday, I sit up in the school's library during lunch and chew the fat with anybody who wants to practice their English with me.
Towards the end of the lunch hour, this little boy (a 1st year) comes up to me and just kinda stands there.
He doesn't say anything, but he just hangs around, staring at me.
I try talking to him, but it's obvious he has no clue what the heck I'm talking about.
I can say, "And he asked us, 'are ye angels?' and we said, 'nay, we are but men.' rock!" and he would just keep on staring.
So, I start talking to a group of girls and they give me a bunch of lollipops (it's White Day, remember), all the while that kid keeps staring.
After 15 minutes, the bell rings and all of us leave.

Now, today, I'm back in the library and the kid comes back.
This time, he shuffles around a bit, asks me (in Korean) if I can speak Korean, but I stare at him blankly.
The next thing you know, he pulls out a lollipop and gives it to me!
I'm like, "thank you so much!!!"
Then, 10 seconds later, he pulls out a heart-shaped Ferrero Rocher box, full of random candies (none of which are ferrero rochers), with a red piece of paper folded into the shape of a AIDS ribbon taped to the box.
So, I say, "Wow, that's so nice of you! thank you soooo much!"
Then, he reaches back into this Mary Poppins-like pocket and pulls out more candy and gives it to me!!!
He hangs out for the rest of the lunch hour and when it's time for me to leave, I hear little feet scuffling behind me.
I knew it must be the little boy, but I didn't want to turn around.
When I reach the teachers' office, 3 floors down from the library, I turn around and the kid is behind me, kinda smiling.
I walk into the office and to my desk and all the while, the kid is watching me from the doorway through the 1 inch crack of the door.

Now, tell me, is or is this kid not a stalker? (is that even proper english)?
I think he's bordering on stalker-status.
Actually, I'm trying to make myself feel special!!! hahahaha.
I mean, stalkers are creepy and scary, but don't all of us secretly kinda want one?
muahhahahahahahaha.

UPDATE: my little stalker just gave me more candy. puhhahaha. he gave one piece of a lemon-flavored mento. it was kinda salty... he must have been holding it in his sweaty little palms. kinda gross. kinda really gross. then, he stood around my desk for a while. once he left, i got up to deliver something to the other teachers' office, and when i look over at the doorway, i find this kid looking at me through a 1 inch crack in the doorway again!!! hahahaha. this kid is seriously crazy! crazy about me! when i caught him, he got all scared and shut the door!!!puahahahaha. man, i'm so full of myself for writing about this, huh? he's so cute though!

UPDATE: i finally know why that kid is stalking me. he's "special." i don't think he's retarded, but i think he has some learning diabilites, perhaps. i wonder what koreans consider "special." cuz, there are some kids (like this little kid) who seem 100% normal, but are labelled as special. kinda strange. so now i have solved this 3 day old mystery. and now, i don't have to feel kinda awkward whenever he hangs around me.

Ooh ee ooh ah ah...

I have nothing in mind that I want to write about, but I'm in the mood to write.
So, please excuse me if I ramble on a bit... let's just hope that as I type away, something interesting will pop into my head.
Pip pop, pop into my head.
Tip top tippity top, pop into my head!!!
puhahahahaha... I'm crazy.

Since this is my first week of classes (it's a new school year), I had my class introduce themelves to me...
I did this last semester and in one class a girl got called a "hippo," and she began to cry.
Today, a girl got called a "giant" and she began to cry.
What's up with that?
First off, these kids just entered the 7th grade and they hardly know each other... why are they already calling each other names?
Second, why did these girls cry?
I remember when the boys in my 3rd grade classes would always say to me: "Ooh, ee, ooh, ah-ah, Jane Chang walla walla bing bang."
I didn't cry.
I just kicked these boys as hard as I could in the shins.
But, I guess that's a little different.
That girl who was called a "hippo" really was the homliest girl I have ever set my eyes on.
And, the "giant" really could have rivalled Andre.
I, on the hand, essentially had my very own theme song.
Plus, these boys were my friends.
Yeah, I guess I could understand why these girls cried.
I just wish they wouldn't do it so pathetic-like.
They just wept silently.
There wasn't any of that, "No, you're a hippo... you big, fat hippoface!"
Or, "Oh yeah? Well, you're a shrimp!"
They just kinda stayed in place, put their heads down, and cried.
Oh, if only I were allowed to speak Korean to the kiddies... I could teach them so much.
Hahaha...

Do any of you sometimes have the urge to fight someone?
Now, I have never gotten into any fights (unless you count the numerous times I had to open a can of whoop-a on my brother and sisters), but sometimes I wish that someone, preferably a really azn girl, would look at me the wrong way just so I could sock her.
Does anyone out there feel me on this?
Or am I sercretly hecka violent?
hahahaha.
I swear, I'm all about non-violence...
I mean, I'd never (i think) act upon this urge, so any of you who are azn or have azn friends need not worry.
Besides, it's not like I would win even if we did fight... although, I have been told I am freakishly strong... ha... freakishly strong... that's funny.

give me a hug...

Yes, I am a "T.A.L." whorebag... I already admitted to that in a previous posting.
Now that I have told you this twice, let's us move beyond that point and into what I want to discuss today.
In the TAL episode I was listening to today, a man described a time when he got into a fight with this other guy, because the other guy called his mom a nasty name.
Here's what happened:
A man and his mom were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic (with his mom driving) and his mom didn't let a car get in front of her.
So, the driver of this car yells out a bad word at her and proceeds to very, very, very slowly creep away.
Of course, the son would not stand for this, so, with his blood boiling, he gets out of the car to confront the name-caller.
They end up fighting in the middle of the street and are eventually broken up.
The son gets back into his car and not a word is spoken until he and his mom reach their destination.
When they get out of the car, the son begins to apologize to his mom, and to his surprise, she throws her arms around him and says, "No one has ever done that for me before."

As the man is telling this story, he actually begins to choke up.
This grown man, with a PhD, who got into a fight in the middle of a freeway, began to cry recalling this story.
This fight has become a precious memory.
He was proud of what he did... and so was his mom.
She would tell this story at dinner parties, when friends came to chit-chit, when family came to visit...

It's interesting what people end up remembering and holding dear in their hearts.
Do I remember my last few days of high school?
No.
Do I remember what I did during my college graduation?
Not really.
Do I remember how I felt when I began my first "real" job?
Nope.
What I do remember was when I was in kindergarten and I reminded my teacher that it was movie day.
She was so happy with me that she bent down and gave me a hug.
I felt so special.

superpowers...

If you were given the choice of superpowers, would you rather be invisible or would you rather be able to fly?
Invisibility or flight?
Now, don't overthink the question... like, don't ask me how fast you can fly or if your footsteps will make sounds if you're invisible...
When I first thought of this question, I thought, "It'd be cool as hell if I can be invisible."
Imagine how many people you could spy on and all the things you could do.
I could pull out chairs from underneath people just as they are about to sit down.
I could read people's diaries as they are writing in them.
I could pants people in the middle of the sidewalk and they'll be none the wiser.
All very cool things to do... yet, they are all very nasty things to do.
See, I, as well as all of you, probably have the gut reaction to choose invisibility...
However, I, as well as all of you, would use this superpower for bad instead of good.
Invisibility is so sneaky.
And, don't all of us want to be sneaky?

But, the more I thought of it, the more I wanted to fly.
For as long as I could remember, I've wanted to fly.
I have been able to force myself to dream about everything except going to candyland and flying.
I seriously hella wanted to fly (as well as eat a house made of gumdrops).
You never see any little kids saying they want to be invisible... they always, always, always want to fly.
Kids are nasty, but they aren't evil.
Invisbility is evil.
So, in the end, I decided to choose flight.

Even though my initial reaction was to be invisible, meaning, perhaps, that invisibilty is what I really want, I chose flight.
And, isn't that what separates the good from the evil?
Choice?
Everyone has the choice to do good or to do bad.
Everyone has an angel and a devil on their shoulders, but which one are you going to listen to?
Which one will you choose?
C'mon, didn't any of you watch 'Devil's Advocate' or 'Harry Potter'?

I'm not saying I'm a good person... no, no, no.
I'm saying that my superpower is the power of choice.
puhahahahahahaha... that was corny as hell.
Forgive me.