Korean Job Discussion Forums

[guangho]

Hello, hello. I'm writing from rural Poland where I'm doing my Masters. One of my friends (Yes, I do have them) has endorsed our collective idiocy and has labeled the 3 word story we concoted "ridiculously awesome." Let's make him proud. Here is the story-my edited version anyway- and maybe we can wrap it up and get it published. No, we won't see any money out of it as yet, (maybe we never will) but as Homer has proclaimed "Reflective glory!" shall be ours. Allright then...



One stormy night, while I was thinking of clich�s, I was approached, more than once, by a priest in a dress, (a Cossack, buster!), fishnet stockings underneath and a crucifix. Then he said, �Hash?� as he disappeared into a wastebasket with pretty flowers. He was soon transformed into an albino alley cat, addicted to hash, pink nose twitching, and becoming sexually aroused, while thinking of Lisa. So he went back to Seoul to visit his dream woman Lisa, who was his latest unattainable goal. She was a speed freak with stinky armpits and a killer smile. Lisa had peculiar eyes that could not disguise a cosmic and orderly universe, where chickens are keepers of the mysterious egg of doom and hilarity. A bit of background: Lisa was once a Pakistani belly dancer, the frilly panties borrowed from Wal-Mart and red stockings hugged her luscious but hairy thighs. She soon discovered her patrons, many men she ate jelly with, but gave up for the sake of finding work at ding dang dong, perhaps the best hakwon in Korea- if you exclude Ivy Chun San. She told one of them to swim to Seoul to prove his complete lack of sanity and stability, gene pool diversity and good manners.

So he swam, straight to Busan, where he met the sultan of swing. They reminisced about how they had no scruples and less money way back when. And yet they still smoked opium. The craving appetite, the insatiable curiosity, the wanton desire- while always keeping an eye on the possibility that one day soon these feelings of outrageously perverse sexuality would come to a screeching halt, leaving a huge gaping orifice, reserved for hibernating koalas, seeking shelter from pigs on the rainy plains of south South Korea.

There, he began smelling the cabbage and thinking that he should grow something better. Something new, something tastier and more appealing to the mind and body- like a field of sticky herb for �medicinal� purposes. So he started shrieking, because he thought he was having a baby, when in fact, �twas an alien! (Straight outta Bakersfield!)

The alien had come to collect the housing deposit and the flux capacitator. But the alien was suddenly distracted by the Devil himself: Bill �Beelzebub� Gates. Bill was the leader of Microcrap, the most revoltingly capitalistic nation in the modern age. The devil said:

�This I command: Take this kimchi as my gift to all the honest hakwon owners and their foreign teachers so that all may find that this kimchi will serve as their magical cabbage, which prevents SARS and other foreign devils, viruses and sperm, as well as languages such as Semian, Spermian, and those of Finn-Ugric origin such as Finnish, Mongolian, Latvian etc. You must use silver chopsticks when you copulate, to guard against thorns, horns, corns, and the possibility of a viable relationship ending up nasty.�

And so he began to scour the streets, searching for his lost Pakistani ESL teacher- the one with private area dreadlocks and emerald colored nipples studded with beads. She was the one with good hash. The hash was procured cheaply from a PC bang in exchange for sexual favors with a charming ajoshi with minimal mucus but a large bottle of soju. He bore three cups and an irresistible offer. They drank and he outlined his manhood in such a way that she couldn�t resist his soju love. All of the sudden flashes of jealousy and violent thoughts threatened to engulf their soju binge- not to mention their thoughts of a brilliant coup of a menange-a-trois in which she would come out on top of her nemesis, FeelBad.

Kockwell the chick, with luscious legs and a Master�s turned Lisa onto the joys that made her fellow Pakis tout �got any hash?� From Lahore to Karachi, their slurred cries aroused Lisa�s passions and wet her appetite for Satan�s magic kimchee. The great game of life notwithstanding, she hoped to earn a lot of respect and the love of a special fowl named Twixie Ann who was busy pecking away at her stash of hash with Kockwell never pausing to smoke it herself. This went until one afternoon when someone killed Twixie Ann in a display of luck over skill-it was the moron gunman, Dogbert. Dogbert had feuded with Twixie Ann over a lover named Gwanju Chicken. Scratching and biting, Twixie Ann was horny as hell, whilst thoughts of rough sex raced through her mind. She stripped down to her feathers and began to squawk loudly. Her transformation to woman hindered by a momentary lapse of the surgeon�s concentration. Twixie Ann began to imagine that exposing her privates was legal as the morphine finally took hold. She dreamed about band camp where she put out her flatulent cat for all to use as they so desired. Panties were wet and hard-ons abounded. Lubricated goats joined the fun, their horns locked with the one prime objective of finally reaching the high imam of Tuktyuktuk, the frozen yogurt-wielding lesbian. She had no clear memory of her privates exposure being legal, although it may have been under the new privates exposure pricing program which was sponsored by none and frowned upon by all, other than the Pakistani belly dancer who was as ugly as an average rottweiler chewing a crash-test dummy after eating a plate of hash browns. She quickly got her outie bellybutton tangled on a piece of lint which eventually maliciously encircled her, leaving her decapacitated and somewhat confused.
Was she dead? Her head throbbing and talking, it yelled �Lint! It�s always doing me in, taking me out and reviving me.�

At the most, all she ever did at school was to suck on a professor�s lollipop with bits of chicken dangling suggestively from the professors� lollipop, its juicy wetness encompassing her very essence. Still, Lisa graduated on her knees, thesis tucked inside her moneymaker. Her coursework completed, she was horny and longing for love and money. These values were shared by the proletariat and also the sultan of swing, who liked to sit, perched upon his big fat hairy gorilla, which had been swiped from the local hakwon.

Meanwhile, back at the Go-Go Disco, all the pounding, hash choofing fiends were busily typing away, including Satan himself. Satan�s magic kimchee kicked in good, just as the evil one brushed his pulsating pink orb against the red-hot brassiere of the young. Satan was interrupted by the simian heavy breathing of an old lover, Lisa�s flatulent cat. At this point, God appeared before the toothsome twosome. Dressed in a skintight black corset, She raised Her impressive Olympus Mons. Throbbing, all of Mars fought over Her. Ultimately, She thought there was a certain insouance in showing Her privates and instead tossed boomerangs at the hairy goats in the pastors� bathtub. She liked to mentally undress the other women who rode deviants to the center of the city where six bodacious chicas and chicos greeted God�s donkey. Ready for sex, they asked God: �Where is the nearest shuttle to Venus?� And She speaketh:
�Go west of Dallas, for there you shall find a bus, a big yellow bus to take you to the terminal in Venus, where Cythera will show the way to the sexiest Venusian vampire chicks anywhere baby!� The chicos and chicas, grateful for the info, offered free full-service massages, replete with face and groin pulls.
�Is this love?� I pondered as the Venusian vampire chicks sucked my wallet dry. All of the sudden, Venusian vampire chicks, fangs flashing, overpowered my face. Red blood flowed through my veins as kaleidoscopes of color filled their eyes. Their nostrils flaring, the Venusian vampire chicks sucked my face blood dry, their lusts momentarily returned by the sight of 3 UFO�s flying overhead, disguised as saucer bowls of kimchi and dumped from above to feed the venusian vampire chicks. The healing power immediately kicked in but gave them nasty wet runs until space boy fulfilled the prophecy that I would die while inflicting vicious groin stabs on George �Dubya� Bush. Space boy then said �exposing your privates is illegal�, a chant that, when screamed loudly, gives penial erections and vaginal secretions to the horny masses who worshiped the Venusian vampire chicks and proclaimed them Goddesses of love with unique powers to transform the hearts, minds, nads and intestines of all men, and to love the venusian vampire chicks with all their hearts, money and rotted, decayed souls.

Still, everybody had moxie to spare and the will to reach Dave�s pine tree farm. Space boy reappeared to command the Venusian vampire chicks, who were actually Martian werewolf dudes trying to fornicate with their cousin, Betty Lou. Sadly, Betty Lou�s feeding tube was clogged with an unbelievable amount of Velveeta, which didn�t bode well, and she soon expired. Just then, the werewolves sensed their enemies approaching, armed with throbbing and somewhat enlarged orange rubber duckies. The Dudes whipped out the whip cream which they used to whip the gathered frenzied horde of the �endowment challenged�. (Keep in mind that most women are in an enlightened new age, which bloomed like a big sexy chicken on steroids.)
Despite most people�s desire to smite with mighty vengeance, lest they face the wrath of He Who Cannot Kiss Sick Chickens, (I should note that chicken lips contain the sweetest, most fragrant ache, which, when removed from the soul of the chicken soup is downright magical), the headline next day still read: �Terror Couple Kill the magic with a dancing star and broken hearted springtime lovers with summer crush who are too far from the wild crowd to be able to love them.�
Suddenly, a fortuneteller fortuitously appeared, brandishing a snotty Kleenex. A flash of light mesmerized the nearby ostrich, which was being used for extravagant medicine related purposes. A devastating killer earthquake was about to wipe out the beautiful people who were participating in orgies in groups of nine or ten. With Kockwell being under a large, hovering, transparent UFO-emblazoned upon which were the words �Alpha and Omega mean absolutely nothing�, I wandered into the enchanting new-old realm of make-believe oddities. Alice asked �Are aliens visible?� �Only if you have a wild mushroom soup recipe.� I answered.

War came down from the Bushes on high to obliterate the unwashed, revolting proletariat and treasonous dissenters universe-wide. The hot-assed Bush twins, drinks firmly in hand, seized presidential power, their ardor unquenched with the world next on their hit list. They headed to Canada, angry that Brian Mulroney had ugly children who spoke Korean, were tacky dressers and wore bright red fishnet hoses. Jenna and Barbara seized the prime ministers office, with weapons hidden inside their fathers� nuclear weapons cabinet, which was colloquially referred to as �great balls of fire.� From then on it became easy to buy drugs (not that they needed horse tranquilizers). Jenna and Barbara French-kissed a frog named Engelbert Humperdinck the 3rd, who sang songs of unrequited love to needy students.

Meanwhile, back in Dallas, Debbie and the cowboys sang sad songs while cowgirls danced in slow motion. He touched Debbie�s knockers with a bargepole and a bucket filled with Jinro soju, which they drank to wild excess while toasting the fickle llamas, who voted for the brainless wonder.
�Eat my shorts!� the man exclaimed half a world away while doing the hokey pokey in his pajamas. As a result of his aforementioned actions, Engelbert Humperdinck the 3rd slowly took to Vodka, Percocets and a hearty serving of Port and Stilton. A genie in a bottle, a genie made of the finest sam gyeop sal, granted him three wishes.
Engelbert Humperdinck the 3rd agonized agonizingly. Denying the temptations of his Korean co-teacher, he wished for legalized privates exposure lessons, free milk-shake enemas and a hulking wild starry-eyed lover. Screaming daisies were heard from fourteen miles away, in the throes of ecstasy.
Amazed, Engelbert Humperdinck the 3rd gazed off into the distance as the screaming hypnotized him. �Exposing your privates is illegal,� said the elephant to him while grasping a large boy named Mowgli. Mowgli didn�t like kimchi stains on his cousin, Joe Thanks. By the way, you should know that in this corner of the world cousins have copulated since 1900 when the Chinese invented an anti-cousin copulating machine which was banned at the request of the Korean immigration office which also demanded nookie for free (thus ignoring the advice of Kim Bong Nam who was known in those parts for his famous exploding bucket of Kentucky extra crispy spicy goat a la caramel with a light dusting of micro waved Kraft cheese whiz.)
Therefore, the immigration ombudsman and chief became very suspicious when we tried a somewhat cheesy explanation, which incidentally involved Kraft cheez whiz, regarding Engelbert Humperdinck the 3rd engaging in privates exposure related activities. All his sudden movements caused him to bump into the toilet at the immigration office and he slid down to a magical place unknown to many but loved by secretive secretors of realms never before touched or prodded by those who wished for gigantic pots of steaming mandu-, as the non-steaming mandu never did get them hot.

Suddenly Lisa emerged from a CDI van with a mightily loud trombone player whose name �Horse� came about because he was hung like a giant eggplant. Lisa encouraged him to begin massaging her with saddle oil and an extract made of WMNLIDWOAF, a compound used by horny virgin roosters to simulate an accidental rogering of the senses.
Lisa could only watch in bemused horror as Horse slowly and carefully began teaching English by osmosis, a little-known method perfected by the most famous kyopo in the land, Randy Newman. His magnificent electric organ vibrated as only vibrators can while Horse was screwing his ddong tweji. Lisa quickly began to prep for her quest to be the tallest, most well endowed embodiment of English refinement Koreans have suspiciously yearned for. Her transformation began and fruitfully scared the crap out of Dr. Wickersham-Kim who cried out like a menstruating walrus in heat.
Dr. Wickersham-Kim, a time traveling monkey, postulated that Konglish in commercials was his species language, and one in fact unrelated to humanoids. He and Lisa made sweet love as Guangho munched away on bosintang contentedly. Guangho was eyeing up Hwajangsil Ajumma while standing in line at the clinic, awaiting the results of his most recent foray into the intersection between her open legs and the green luminescence glowing about radiantly from Lisa�s soft handbag. Said handbag was akin to sandpaper when pressed against my taste-bud receptors. Unfortunately she withdrew from Guangho (causing near cardiac arrest) and raged against the withered beams, the raging palpitations and the festering sores of resentment whilst getting stoned to the gills on liquid Drano.

Completely cleaned out, Lisa crashed into Dr. Wickersham-Kim who was babbling about phallic vegetables, which tasted like otter placenta pies. Lisa�s continuing phallic fascination led to a confrontation with the well-endowed legendary pool shark and occasional ajumma impersonator, Dame Hawajangsil Fitzsimmons-Kim, the African-Korean mop goddess.
Born in Harlem to a daughter of aristocratic coal miners with a nice personality, Dame Fitzsimmons-Kim was conceived out of spite, her birth supernaturally accompanied by a giant

[JongnoGuru]

I gave up on the story (btw, good start on the 50,000-words-in-one-month book-writing marathon contest) and just played "Spot the Davers" game for bored children instead.

Here's what a quick search turned up. (I'm sure there are plenty more, but it's early and I'm busy turning my computer into the world's most expensive radio.)

[guangho]

I'm the obsessive sort-have you noticed?