No one needs big things

Upon the renewal of my second-year contract here in Daegu, I took the opportunity to upgrade my apartment to a 14th-floor deluxe apartment, presumably, in the sky. Of course, I share it with two other fine gentlemen, as not even a man with the greatest of bowel movements has a need for two bathrooms. For the past week or so, I've been alone in said apartment while the Los Angelian and Saffa are on their respective vacations, leaving me to share the apartment with nothing more than a meowbox with a foot fetish whose owner is also away on vacation.

Tonight, as I sat in front of the futon I've been sleeping on in our living room watching shows from my laptop connected to my TV from the table I've moved from the kitchen to eat my dinner while I watched, it became evident that I have taken a some 12000sq. foot apartment and smashed it back down to everything I was so eager to get away from in the first place.

If I never moved, however, I wouldn't be signing autographs for the local children and parents who think I'm an athlete from the World Athletic Games, whom are being housed just down the road.

"Shoot for the stars!" I wrote to them.

Singapore and Indonesia

Singapore is expensive.

Bill Gates has to wait .000435 seconds before he can afford a beer, that's how!

A Singaporean man yelled at us for bringing a dog into the park with monkeys everywhere. "It upsets them," he said. We left right before the alpha-monkey made the first strike. The sign had a dog within a circle. We thought that meant allowed. There was no cross-through.

I ate at a hawker run by a single mom, a blind guy, a metal-challenged teenager, and an autistic girl. Dignity Diner, it was called. It was the only hawker cart open at 11am.

I murdered two Subway subs. In Subways in Singapore, the drink refill machine is easily accessible to the patrons seated in the restaurant area. In Subways in Singapore, refills cost $1.

The subway warned me that it would be a challenge in enter the car from one specific door. Easiest thing I'd ever done.

I ate a durian. Including the part I probably wasn't supposed to eat. It was vile.

In Indonesia I didn't do anything.

I got a suit tailored to my abnormally shaped body. Donnie Osmond bought a suit at the very same place. Bill Clinton perused.

Right after that, a chili crab craw slipped out of my hand and rocketed towards my clean blue shirt at a very high velocity and, upon impact, splattered all over to make a very clear "I just vomited on myself" statement.

Don't worry. I wasn't wearing the suit yet.