American [no longer] In Korea

The New Jersey of Asia

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Nightlife in Seoul Part 2- Itaewon / A Tale of Two Hills

I've heard a lot of bad things about Itaewon but I had nothing better to do on a Sunday night, so off we went. Brett, Tom, and I thought it was a lot better than we expected (Kari did not). For a Sunday it was still swarming with people.

The first thing we did was find a hookah bar, and we happened on BricX. BricX is a sick and slutty hookah joint with aptly named shots. You may find it a bit cheesy if you're a humorless cunt. They have a DJ playing high energy electro lounge music, sometimes quite loud. The décor is great, but the prices are not, so pregame heavily before coming here.

Here comes the part where I don't embellish on my stories. The nice couches were taken and half of us were seated on these backless stools like hunched over jackasses, right in front of the DJ. The placement would have been a fine for dancing, pretending to care about someone's opinion on what the US should do in the Middle East, or cunnilingus, but for a bunch of sober people trying to smoke hookah, it was way too loud.

After ten minutes of indecisiveness, I said fuck it, let's leave, and so we fucked off and walked around Itaewon until the guy who doesn't drink and the girl who didn't like anything left. The three of us remaining bought a bunch of soju and proceeded to get drunk on the porch of a pie restaurant and count black people. I stopped keeping track at zero. Also, we ate a pie- it was good, thanks for asking. Now about this pie restaurant- it's at the bottom of the most notorious hill in Itaewon. If you keep going up the road the first left is Hooker Hill. The third left is Homo Hill, and the fourth left is Pedophile Nazis and Anal Fisting Cum Swappers Hill. Just kidding, fourth hill leads to a mosque. Me and Brett decided that the right thing to do would be to go score some xannies, so we went to look for the type of people who have the highest chance of being in possession; black. No, that's not true, you're racist for thinking that.

Welcome Back, Old Friend

On Twenty Five to Life

July 24th

I open the orange envelope and shove in four condoms and a pinch of magic mushrooms. As long as I had to give my friend a parking ticket, I was going to make it as pleasant as possible. She incurred it when we moved three boxes of her life into my room. It’s a short story- Her abusive, violent ex-girlfriend kicked her out of their apartment and now her possessions are in friends apartments in three boroughs of New York. One of which is my tiny 2 bedroom which I share with my parents. Between us, Liz and I have eaten more pussy than Alf, traveled the world, lived abroad to teach children, and now have 'real jobs' in Manhattan. College is 4 years past and 25 is in the rear-view but if the question is "What makes an adult?" the answer isD)None of the Above.

I eat two caps and a stalk and head to the Overlook in Midtown. Sliz is on the second half of a Long Island when I get to the bar and hand her the orange envelope.

"You've been served."

"Oh wonderful. Just what I needed now that I'm brokeandhomeless," she quips, putting her drink down to give me a hug. "Good to see you again."

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