Good evening. I’m trying to summon the disrespect necessary to bail on my professional obligations tomorrow. After work I have to go with my school to see The motherfucking Nutcracker in Seoul. I was in The Nutcracker three times when I was a kid, because I took ballet, because I never didn’t like girls. I’d nail a position then get cocky. Stalk around the studio in my black tights and smack all the lily-white thighs. Our teacher was a Russian with an afro and rippling stallion thighs; he’d cackle approvingly like Emperor Palpatine and say gooood, gooood. I quit when I was ten, before my friends found out. What I should have done was hold out for puberty and fornicate my way through the whole dance company. Take home their tutus as trophies; then how would the guys make fun of me. All of Portsmouth, New Hampshire’s elementary school population would now share a common ancestor: me. Biggest misfire of my life. I had to wait until I was 21 to lose the V-card but I’m glad I waited, you know? Just kidding.
So anyway, The Nutcracker in Seoul, then an interminable dinner followed by a long sit at a motherfucking 노래 방 (karaoke bar) where I’ll partake in complex Confucian drinking rituals and stare with at my co-worker’s heads with blatant indignation, trying to make them explode with my mind. We won’t get back into our homes until eleven motherfucking forty-five or so. Just a mere six-hour respite before the children on the block awake with the sun and howl from the windows to each other… ahhhhhhhhhh. I have to get out of this shit, get my evening back. It’s impossible for me to be happy unless I prop up my vanity with 90 minutes of American Psycho gym time, then post some shitty shit on my shitty blog, and then have a nice wank. Korea blocks porn so I have to use XXX GIFs on Twitter. Have to keep interrupting the rhythm and re-tapping the screen so it won’t go black.
There’s never a North Korean rocket attack when you need one. But even if there was the South Koreans would still go to work. Hold meetings and classes in a blast crater. Don’t get me wrong, I actually do love it here. Just, fuck the Nutcracker, you know? I wonder who’s playing Fritz. I wonder how much ass he’s slaying.