“Oh my god, it’s ASIA! Everything is so cute! Everything is so Asian! It’s all so fascinating!”
“Old woman, seriously, no one can get off the subway if you are pushing to get on. Let’s try this: you wait about 1, maybe 2, seconds and we will all exit. Then you can run, jump, scurry, whatever you want to do to get your seat. Our little stand-off at the door is not going to get you anywhere.
Old man, please stop smoking your cancer outside my window.
To all the trucks that sell things in my neighborhood: Please, please for the love of the lord, turn those damn loudspeakers down. 3000 Won for melons. Gotcha. I can hear you. My intestines can hear you. My mitochondria can hear you.
Ladies, if you are going to smoke, please have the balls to do it in public and not take up every public bathroom stall secretly acquiring lung cancer. Some of us actually have to pee.
Dude, I got it. You speak English. I totally get that. Now please stop following me around the subway to have your marathon loud pretend cell phone conversation in my ear. And please stop calling Canada “The Canada”.
Also, public trash cans would be nice.”
Don’t worry, Korea. I don’t want to break up with you or anything. I’m not that fickle. I know that you don’t like to do the dishes as often as I do. I can see that you like to leave your clothes on the floor. I say tomato, you say…tomato, actually. OK, so you like to take really long showers and I can barely understand a word you say.
But I’m still crazy about your frozen yogurt, your aloe beverages, jim jil bang, $3 dinner, your public transport, beautiful green mountains and impossibly cute bowing children. I’m sure I can learn to overlook the other stuff.