Domestic Life: The Return of SK - Balder and Better

Today is Saturday here in Sydney.  It’s fall here, but the weather is sunny and pleasant.  It’s late afternoon as I write this, which means that most of you are probably shuffling in from whatever dank drinking hole you went out to this Friday night, no doubt alone and unfulfilled.  I, however, had already had sexual intercourse by the time you had left work earlier in the evening, when you were still under the happy delusion that you might actually pick up at the bar. You see, I have a girlfriend.  In fact, I live with her.  Let me tell you a little bit about my life, and how I got to this place.

As some of you may have heard, after leaving Thailand last year I made my way up to the Land of Morning Calm, more commonly known as Korea.  It’s a land of history, intrigue, mountain temples and Communist northern enemies.  It is also, as I came to realize, home to the most incredible population of fine-legged women in the world.  I shit you not.  While walking the streets, I frequently found myself grinding my teeth in aggressive lust, unable to comprehend the bounty of crazy sexiness walking past me every five seconds.  I cannot overstate this point enough.  I redubbed Korea the Land of Crazy Hotness and, along with my two Canadian cohorts, determinedly prowled the streets day and night, soaking in as much as my eyes and loins could handle.  Now, if you’re gonna give me one of those "I dunno, Asians just don’t do it for me, you know?" lines, then you, my friend, are the one who does not know.  Spend a couple months in Seoul.  Your life will change.

The other interesting surprise I found is that Korea is the most degenerately drunken country on the planet.  They drink a cheap swill called soju, which is about 40 proof and tastes like warm Karkov.  It also costs about a dollar a bottle.  Amble out into the streets on any given Tuesday night (or Wednesday, or any day), and you will see men in business suits falling down drunk, puking, and other various states of stupor that would put even Max to shame.  If you’ve never seen a man in a nice suit sleeping on the floor of a subway station, it’s quite something.

Amid all this, I taught young schoolchildren each day, reaching heights of impatience that I didn’t know I was capable of reaching.  Kids are great, as long as you don’t have to hang out with them for any longer than about 20 minutes.  Thankfully, Kellem Teacher has retired from the classroom.

And yes, I did meet a fine young woman, and followed her here to Australia in late February.  We live in a shitty little dump of an apartment, which costs almost $700 a month in this city.  Each day, I wake up at 5:16 to walk my baby to the train station.  I go back, feed the stray cat, sleep till about 7, get up, eat my toast and coffee, take the train to the city where I code documents in a law firm for eight hours and fifteen minutes, then go home, eat dinner, and am in bed by 9.  There is no sex on weekdays.  I have three button-up shirts that I got from Woolworths for $10 each, two ties, and one pair of pants.  I wash my socks in the sink.  And, as you can see, I have decided to mitigate my balding by shaving down to a millimeter.  I have no male friends here in Sydney.  I am a library member.  This is my domestic life.