Where the ladies at.

A series of emails from Smalltown have suddenly reminded me that I do have some semblance of a life waiting for me back in the ROK. It's hard not to become convinced that I've stumbled out of a black hole and back into my life from a year ago -- some sort of depressing loop of a wormhole or... I don't know what I'm getting at with this. Except that it's nice (very nice) to hear from people back in Korea while I'm here and (for all intents and purposes) it feels as though none of it ever actually happened. Which makes getting on that plane to return a whole lot scarier.

Smalltown is mostly passing on news about how things are going with his gal, some other d-bag we used to know who has suddenly contacted him again, and The Baby.

Apparently The Baby called him tonight because he was drinking alone at the local. Depressed. Three more of his friends left for the army yesterday. And some 29 year old Korean loser baramdoongi apparently tried to make The Baby sleep with a random girl. Which The Baby didn't want to do. Which made The Baby more depressed.

Said loser baramdoongi is apparently going to be at the birthday party next weekend. I have a special knack for being able to get under the skin of playboys -- they hate that I'm not even good looking, yet completely immune to their nonsense. I can't wait to get my hands on this jerk. And not in a good way. You make The Baby cry, I make you cry. Got it, tough guy? Don't fuck with my kids.

The other good bit of news is that The Baby apparently has a female foreigner friend named Natasha who Smalltown thinks I might be able to hang with. I was just thinking the other day (and I know I've said it here a million times already...), I cannot continue on with my life in Korea minus female companionship. It's driving me insane.

Everyone knows I love the boys. But come on. I'm not actually one of them, at least not entirely. I gotta find some local down females, or I'm going to lose it. The trouble is, I'm really picky about girls.

No whining. No pretending not to be able to hold your liquor, no protesting to my constant cloud of cigarette smoke. No curfew, no bedtime. No annoying boyfriend calling you every five minutes. No goddamn doing your makeup at the table. Well. At least not constantly. And the only talk I want to hear about men, until we've bonded enough to actually give a shit about each other, better be about how hot they are -- not how many phone calls they didn't return or how like totally into you you thought they were before they like totally ditched you after like the most wonderful week of like your whole entire life.

And it helps if the potential 'she' is just a tad bitchy. Because then we'll match.

God. A girl can fucking dream. Incheon: where the ladies at?