Flaming Lips Balm

The past few days I've been thinking about James Kim and one thing that really brought a smile to my face was reading a Yelp review that his wife Kati wrote about a club in the city. And although some might imagine that she should act the grieving widow 24 hours a day, forever and a day, I couldn't disagree more. Getting on with happiness, or as close as you can get to it, is what it's all about. Grief is love's weight. It doesn't get lighter. Our backs just get a bit shiftier. I smile at the thought of her dancing. So before I forget, let me leave a message to my family in case one day I'm gone way too soon....

1) Crap I'm sorry. I'm an awesome guy, I'm sure you miss me.
2) Laugh and dance as soon as you can. I'll be laughing too...actually I'm laughing at your dancing.

And above all else remember... all of life's answers can be found in the Flaming Lips.

Boulders are Heavy

Fatherhood 1997.0

Woh I woke up and read this article. Um did I just dream the last decade? Am I really stuck in 1997? Plus there is a strangely familiar dude on the page.

I can't wait until their next article on this new MP3 thing I've been hearing about or maybe something about teh internetz.

lolminivan

Raise your hand if you drive a minivan. Someone please talk me off the edge.

lolkids

Growing Up Azian

Dear Mom and Dad,

Remember that day you came home after golfing and you were both so happy because it had been so long since the last time you had gone, I think like at least 12 hours or something crazy like that, and you saw me crying in the kitchen and you asked what was wrong and I opened my heart to you to tell you that I didn’t get into Harvard? Do you remember how Dad yelled and said he knew I would fail if I didn’t go to private High School and how Mom, you yelled at Dad for not making enough money to pay for the SAT tutor in 3rd grade instead of waiting till 8th grade and Dad do you remember yelling at me why I couldn’t study harder like Soo-Yun and Ha-Sook and Grace and Grace Lee and Grace Park or Grace Min or Grace Kim or Grace J. Kim or Grace Lee or Little Grace Pak or Grace Hong or Big Grace? I felt so horrible. So when Mom tried to sooth you by saying Yale wasn’t so bad I had to lie and say Yale didn’t have KBS club so you would feel OK about me not going there because the truth is I didn’t get into Yale either. I didn’t get into Brown or Princeton or MIT or Duke or Columbia either. But I couldn’t stand it anymore and I blurted out that I got into Stanford. I remember how you muttered how lucky I was to get into a backup school like Standford and Mom clucked her tongue and said it doesn’t matter as long as I met a good boy to marry. I felt so bad but what else could I do. It’s your entire fault anyway. Do you know how hard it is to study when growing up as hard as I had it? You both put pressure on me to study. To study! You think studying is easy? Just because Dad you grew up during the Korean war and had to eat snow and pine tree roots with your cousin going from farm to farm to do day labor and collect firewood with only the memory of your dead parents to warm your heart as you tried not to cry every day because the tears would freeze your eyelids shut and keep you from finding bugs to eat doesn’t mean you know how hard it is these days. You didn’t grow up here in America. Studying is HARD and you and Mom put pressure on me. Just because Mom had to work as a seamstress for 16 hours a day without a break and being yelled at by her boss for getting up to go to the bathroom and not eating lunch for 9 years until Dad and you scraped up enough money to open a tiny liquor store where Mom you could work for 17 hours a day and have a gun pointed in your face 5 times and got beat up twice, doesn’t mean you can make me feel like you only love me for studying and nothing else. I had to lie because you think studying is so easy. Remember when you bought me the Civic? I was so embarrassed driving to school in it. Everyone stared at me and I had to pretend it was a rental while the Lexus was in the auto shop for two years. I even made a little Hertz rental sticker for the bumper. I told my friends that my new Lexus was in the shop for two years because the stereo system being installed was very very very custom. And remember when you wouldn’t let me stay overnight for the prom? I was so mortified I had to tell my friends that I had to go to the airport to catch a trip to Paris to go to a Prom there too. Remember when you didn’t let me change my name because you said I should be proud of being Korean? Guess what I changed it as soon as I turned 18. Its now Azia with a Z as in lazy. You both think I’m lazy but I tried my best and you always said that’s all that mattered as long as it ended in ultimate success. What I really wanted to say is that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, but it only takes a few minutes which turn into days which turn into weeks which turn into months before you realized that you’re trapped. I was trapped and I’m sorry and all I want more than anything is to just go back and start all over. I just wanted to make you proud. Really that’s all I wanted. Please send money, Stanford is expensive.

Love,
Your Little Cardinal

Kiss Me I'm Irsh

So MetroDad and I have always joked about the strange similarities between our lives. The whole French first name thing, the whisky thing, the blogging thing, the whiskey thing, and finally the scotch thing. But the other day when I read his post on MetroDad I just had to shake my head and realize that there is no avoiding the fact that one of us is the imaginary creation of the other. We'll have to fight it out who gets to be Tyler Durden but in the mean time I wanted to post our posts in honor of St. Patrick's Day.

From MetroDad Last Week:

You may not know this but Koreans and the Irish share a special affinity. More often than not, people call us the "Irish of the East." We're both hard-working people with chips on our shoulders and a reputation for being tough, mean, chain-smoking drunks. We love boozing, singing, and getting into fights (preferably all on the same night.) Our people share a history of oppression from neighboring countries and have a homeland still divided by politics and rage. We'd kill or die for our families. And nobody eats more fucking cabbage than we do.

And here's an excerpt from the post I was writing for St. Patricks Day.

Oh yeah what was I talking about...yes Koreans are the Irish of Asia. We love to drink, we love to fight, and we love to spout poetry in long drunken monologues. We have a history of oppression by an imperialistic island monarchy that loves tea and some say....have historically bad teeth.

Crazy. MetroDad never saw my draft, and I had first written it when I joined Ricedaddies...I just decided to save it for St. Patricks Day. Here's the full unfinished post. Have some Guinness or Bulmers maybe a bit of Jameson's or Tullamore Dew. Hold a bit of Ireland in your heart and think of her beautiful green hills. A drink for all my friends...Slainte!

The Koreans are the Irish of Asia. I've been sayin it all my life. So I have this Irish thing...former life or whatnot. I don't know how to explain it, but it came back to me one night when I was singing to my boy. So I was singing Danny Boy to my son like I do every night, and he was smiling like a good Irish kid and towards the hard part of the song...you know the hard part right? You don't? You should. Anyway...he starts clapping and I'm like...what? I haven't taught him that yet. So I think...there it is that Irish thing rearing up again. I thought it was a fluke until last night when I was telling the Mrs. about it and she didn't believe me so I started singing again and just like before he starts beaming and clapping. Now I know I'm genetically 100% pure Silla Bone-Rank Korean but I think my son definitely has that wierd thing I've had for as long as I remember...the thing that says come home we miss you. And so far it's just Danny Boy that does it. When I sing Straight Out of Compton he just stares. Oh yeah what was I talking about...yes Koreans are the Irish of Asia. We love to drink, we love to fight, and we love to spout poetry in long drunken monologues. We have a history of oppression by an imperialistic island monarchy that loves tea and some say....have historically bad teeth. But as a racially insensitive imperfect human being, sometimes I do think about race. I think about how I never think about it and just kinda walk through this world. But we're often categorized and held up to stereotypes. Yeah blah blah blah...but I think of situations like barroom fights. I think about how I would tell the story to my boys.

Henri: Damn dude I was outside the Irish Bank last night and out of nowhere this guy's all flashing and I'm like what and he's like wassup and so we get into it and I nail him and he's like all I'm gonna get my boys and I'm like all go back to high school and he's all whatever and he leaves and I'm like dude that's what I thought.

And then I think here's his version...

Dude: Man I was at the Irish bank and this little Asian guys was all whatup and I'm like get outta here little man and this little Asian guy hits me in the mouth for nothing!

I mean...why do I have to be the "Asian Guy" in the story?

AirTran Pwns Toddler Toting Parents

Dear AirTran,

Finally an Airline that gets it. Bravo to you AirTran air. I read about the family that was properly put in their place this morning for being unable to control their three year old child prior to take off. I have never understood the nerve of those people who think that it is perfectly acceptable to burden an entire plane full of people with their unruly children. I have been on flights where these children have cried consistently for over 3 hours while I was trying to get a little sleep on my business flight. I earn over 6.1 figures a year, these children as far as I can tell are unemployed, from a social benefit point of view, my contribution to society is far greater than theirs and I deserve my rest in order to earn more money. If it was so important to transport your children by aircraft then perhaps these “parents” should have made up their mind on where in the United States they wanted to live before they had children. Some of us actually PLAN things in advance, and in some cases plan well. Maybe this family should have moved to Florida before their child err I mean unemployed child, was born. The sense of entitlement that some of these parents have is absolutely mind-numbing. Seatbelts are on a plane for a reason. Hello, welcome to America. I don’t know how they do it in Germany or Istanbul or Rwanda or Madagascar or England but in our country we do not allow children to roam free and tackle our airplane pilots in mid-flight. The seatbelts are meant to protect the other passengers from air-born children. The audacity of the mother to think that she could simply hold her child on her lap! What if we hit an armadillo on the runway and the child flew over a few seats and landed on my Treo disabling it?! Of course I would not know it was disabled until I turned it on when it was appropriate according to the RULES of airplanes in America! Although I do not have any children of my own, nor do I have any experience with children at all, I am sure that I would be able to control a little three year old. I would have explained in simple English to the child the FAA rules of flight before we had left the house. This way the child would have understood what was expected of them and then not been confused while on the plane. Also, if for some reason the child did begin to try and cause trouble I would have done what any parent with the tiniest shred of common sense would have done. I would have told the child to Stop. Hello. Does that sound difficult to you Mr. and Mrs. Parent? Try saying Stop. You don’t have to be a genius to be a parent, but you do have to use your brain a tiny bit. Although I have never flown AirTran, I would like to commend you and the rest of the Tran family for laying down the law. I agree wholeheartedly that a flight already delayed 15 minutes (due to uncontrollable Airline related circumstances) could not and should not be delayed any further in order to allow a parent to try to soothe their child in a manner that they felt was appropriate. You have my business from now on.

Sincerely,
All Business

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070123/ap_on_re_us/flight_tantrum

Can We Talk About Anything Other Than Race?

Ancient Asian Secrets: The secret world of a secret race. A Primer for Some Places in America.

10. Are all Asians the same? The single most horrible story about absolute utter indefensible ignorance that I have ever heard takes place in an undergraduate sociology class at UC Berkeley for god sake. This is hearsay, since it was recounted to me by my wife. During a discussion section for a sociology course at UC Freaking Berkeley, a student asked the following question:

“How do Asian parents know what their kids are when they’re born?”

Ok try to think about that question. What could she possibly be asking? I’ll repeat the question.

“How do Asian parents know what their kids are when they’re born?”

Ok let’s probe. Ummm what the hell are you asking?

“I mean, how do the parents know if their kid comes out Japanese or Chinese?”

You have got to be pulling my leg. Are you serious? Are you actually wondering if a Chinese Mom and a Chinese Dad have a baby, what RACE ETHNICITY the child will be? Do you not understand Race? Ethnicity? Genetics? Do you think it’s random? Are we a magical people? How the hell did you get into Berkeley?!

Ok now wait a second. Somewhere, in America, somewhere, there is somebody reading this that is saying….”I can’t wait to hear the answer”

The answer is…You have to let the Doctor tell you.

9. Why are Asians so smart? Asians are not smart. Asians get good grades. Big difference. How do they get such good grades? That’s like asking someone how come their kids are so good at not robbing stores.

“Hey Jim, you know I really got to compliment you on your kids. Man I’ve known them since they were still in diapers. Tell me a secret. How did you raise them to not rob liquor stores? I really got to know your secret. Is it genetic?”

If you think it is as important for your child to get an A as it is to not rob a liquor store…believe me they’re gonna get A’s. In my house getting a B is like robbing a liquor store. No I’m not kidding. Getting a B is throwing your future away. Think about that. Will you let your kid throw their future away? Of course not. The simple formula works. Get good grades, go to college, get good grades, go to grad school, get good grades, get paid 6 figures, THEN do whatever the hell you want and thank me later. A man can give up everything and pursue his dream at the age of 30. There’s plenty of life to live at the age of 30. Get your MD, OD, DO, PharmD, JD, MBA, PHD or any combination of the above and then be a bad ass and throw it all away to join the circus…it’s a better story that way. Until then shut up and study. (I had really crappy grades by the way, like 3.9999999999999999999999999997 <--------- Ouch! Damn PE)

8. Hmmm I think I ran out of stereotypes. Someone throw me a stereotype. No not driving. Don’t bring up driving. The Japanese invented Drifting so don’t bring up driving. Car culture in Southern California is driven by minorities, Asians, Latinos, African Americans. These kids can drive. Why their parents can’t…hell I don’t know. But it’s NOT genetic. Nor cultural. In fact have you ever driven in Seoul? It’s like driving in Rome…those guys are freaking nuts. You need serious driving skill to keep up in these cities.

7. Karate. Yes it’s true all Asians know karate. Except for the ones that know Kung-Fu. Or Hapkido. Or Jeet Kun What. Or Aikido. Or Ryukyo Kempo. Or SF2Turbo Fighting Edition.

6. Take off your shoes. Would you lick the bottom of your shoe? Why not? What? Because what? Because it’s dirty? Damn right it’s dirty. Take your damn shoes off.

5. Asian Men aren’t sexy. How the hell would I know?

4. Asian women are HOT. YES!

3. Asian women are subservient. Um look at my shirt. You know why it looks like crap? Because I ironed it myself. Any other questions?

2. Asians get red when they drink. You know it’s really funny how people associate getting red with getting drunk. “Man DUDE you are SOOOOooooo RED! Are you OK????” Hell yeah I’m red. I get red instantly. Alcohol dehydrogenase and it’s mutant variant being unable to bind with cofactor nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide and all that crap. But I am not drunk. I used to keep a running count in college about how many comments I would get in one night. The average was in the 20’s, the highs were in the 60’s. Even fellow Asians. Duuuuude you are so Red! And why does everyone call me dude? I mean seriously, I know I’m from California right, but I get called Dude more than the average Californian in California. Just look at the comments I get here in RiceDaddies. Dude this and Dude that. Whatsupwiththat? It is absolutely true that a lot of Asians get red. This is not a myth. It just doesn’t bother me. Like most Koreans, I got over it by the end of grade school.

1. Asian men make good dads. That’s right ladies. Asian men make great dads! Hahahahaha MY ASS! I work too hard. And I’m narcissistic. Here I am on a Dad forum just posting random crap as usual. Where the hell is the parenting content in this post? I’m so gonna be the first dad kicked off the island. Son I love you! I love you son! Study hard boy!

Top Ten L.A. Korean-American Christmas Traditions/Mash-Ups/Memories When You’re Growing Up Henri

10. “Aren’t you too old for Christmas?”
Growing up, my mother had this constant sneaking suspicion that I was conning her into celebrating Christmas even though I was older than 10. Since most American cultural events had to be filtered by me to my parents, I was the cultural gatekeeper. My mother could not stop comparing Christmas with Halloween and insisted that it was a children’s holiday.


9. “Merry Christmas, here’s some cash”
In my family you get cash. Period. For everything. Happy birthday cash, Merry Christmas Cash, Look its raining Cash, Haha that was a funny joke you just told here’s some cash, You got a B+? NOEFFINGCASH. Oh and then there were the SATs which was more of an over/under thing. Over 1400 you get a car. Under 1400 you get to take the SAT again. Hahaha good times…good times. I took the SAT 10 times. I Drive a Ferrari Helicopter.


8. “Plastic Tree is same”
Oh I love that phrase. Makes me know it’s Christmas.


7. “More Golf Balls”
The only thing my father ever wanted for Christmas was more golf balls. And so we made him happy by buying him more Golf Balls. Every Christmas photo he is holding Golf Balls. This year I am buying him 300 boxes of Golf Balls. One day he’ll break. One day damnit.


6. “It’s called Egg Nog”
Dairy + Eggs + Sugar + Sugar + Sugar = Not-A-Happy-Korean-Parent


5. “Santa Who?”
I had to tell my parents about Santa. They called bullshit on that in like 3 seconds.


4. “No”
Can we go see real snow? Damn. Korea is cold. My parent love L.A. for many reasons. Number one reason: No F-ing Snow.


3. “So do you need a Birthday present too?”
Yeah, I was born right after Christmas. Same old argument year after year. The net value of two presents always exceeds the value of one present of equal total value. You have to factor in the pleasure of unwrapping the cash twice rather than once.


2. “Chivas! Chivas! Chivas!”
Oh those beautiful silver boxes stacked high to the ceiling! We would build forts out of them like igloos. Chivas Regal owes the Los Angeles Korean Community an annual parade.


1. “Turkey + Kochujang”
No description necessary.

To a fellow father

For me personally, in tough times, the last things I want to hear are the opinions of others. I don’t want the condolences of those who cannot grasp the situation that I am in; I don’t care for the support offered by those who have not shared a similar burden. I’ll appreciate the effort but in the end it’s just the family that really understands. I cannot help those who are suffering today, I cannot really help anyone. But I can sit here and cry, and add a bit of sorrow for a man I did not know out towards the universe. I can try to honor a father’s memory and praise his courage. I can find some relief in the thought that everything he was fighting for in the end he has achieved. His family is safe, his children are out of harms way. In moments of tragedy we often overcome by emotion, we hold our family tighter; we call out to the ones we love. We tell one another we love them. And we go another day. And as time passes, tragedy’s wake softens. Communities forget, people move on. I don’t want to move on. I want to remember the courage of this man. I want to carry it in my heart. I want people to think of his memory and speak his name when they talk about strength, courage, and the love of a father. I want to bear the memory of the strength it took for a man to save his family, and hopefully years from now, when the headline pass and people move on, I want to still be moved to tears by the strength and honor of this man. I hope we all can carry forward in our hearts the memory of James Kim.

Karma is a Bitch

As a Dad there are many things I fear now. Electricity, gravity, mechanical physics, chemistry (acids bases clorox drinking drano etc etc) but what really scares the crap out of me is Karma. I think back to when I was a kid and I imagine my one and only Son doing half the crap I did and I think holy holy holy crap I'm a dead man. I know you cannot protect your children from the world...and as frightening as it is, your kid will go out there and explore it...ride it. Bask in it. Smile at its beauty as well as it's wickedness. And they will inhale...deeply, everything it offers. And this is good and also really really crazy. And through all the drugs, violence, despair, hope, beauty and redemption that I called youth there is one shining moment of absolute depravity/wackiness that stands out in my mind and send shivers down my spine. Its somewhat unique to the Korean American experience...yes folks I'm taking about Summer at Yonsei.

Now everyone had a different Yonsei experience. Some recall a good enriching summer filled with Korean culture, history, and language development. But when I think back at my two tours of Korean summer programs...I can only describe it as Lost in Translation meets Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Now I know there are a grip of you reading this that are smiling right now because you remember being there. For those of you who have never heard of the Korean Summer Program let me give you a brief intro.

Step 1. Take a bunch of Korean Americans from many different cities around the world but especially Los Angeles and New Jersey.
Step 2. Put them in a Dorm at Yonsei University in the middle of Seoul.
Step 3. There is no step three.

Wackiness ensues. For a lot of these kids, this event occurs during the summer between High School and Harvard oops I mean college. This is the first summer many of these brainiac Asians have not had to worry about getting into college for the first time in their life. Add alcohol, drugs, clubs and an fun city straight out of Bladerunner into the mix and you get what I call good times. Most of it consisted of trying to pick up chicks with my broken Korean which makes Borat's English sound like MetroDad's posts.

Henri: Hey girl, I American. You know Hip Hop? I'm do Dancing like Running Man? Hip Hop Number 1.
Local Girl: I am a Korean Airlines.
Henri: Cool. Whisky drink fun times right?
Local Girl: Your friend like me? We go fast to tomorrow?
Henri: Rock on. I have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

It really is unfair to unleash a group of kids onto a city with lax drinking age laws and a great public transportation system. Add the fact that most kids are loaded up with Korean "Pocket Money" from relatives that have never seen them before and you get a wicked combination. Basically its a primer on how to party like rock stars right before going off to college. But amongst the idiocy there are some redeeming aspects. Your kids learns how to make friends fast. Your kid comes back saying "Mad" a lot. Your kid picks up smoking. Your kid learns how to drink. Wait, crap these are all bad things...ok it is a unique introduction to freedom and decision making. Hmmm it was really fun and unique. I think that pretty much sums it up. But I'm pretty sure there is no way in hell I'm going to send any of my kids there. I want boring kids who aren't interested in partying. I want them to love studying. Sigh. Who am I kidding, I am doomed. I remember my favorite response when I got into trouble as a kid...I am but my father's son. If I was raised in a religious family it would have been...I am but God's finger. And now I am bracing for the same smarmy smart-ass response from a kid who just doesn't know how much I worry about his safety and future. But I know, deep deep in my bones, some things in life you have to learn the hard way. Life is shiny beautiful and very very sharp...you've got to let your kid handle it eventually. But for any of you that have been to Yonsei, Love Boat or the other variations of this summertime rite, would you ever send your kids there?

Transcendence

There are a few things that transcend...well just about everything. Many have tried to express the love a Father has for his son. If there can be a universal truth that ties all people and has the hope for healing all differences it is the shared understanding of the love between a parent and child. Up until today, I have cried seven times in my life. The first six times happened the day I was born, the seventh happened when UCLA won the NCAA Basketball championship in 1995. I was doing pretty good and feeling pretty macho until today. Today I have cried 327 times. This is the number of times I have watched this video about the amazing Dick and Rick Hoyt. Simply put, Rick is a son born with cerebral palsy. Dick is his father who, like many fathers, has an immeasurable love for his son. Unlike many fathers, Dick has demonstrated his love in a way that can truly inspire all of us.

Interview with Ninja

Henri: So you are a Ninja?
NinjaDad: I am NinjaDad.
Henri: Umm I see.
NinjaDad: I have a blog.
Henri: Really, what's a Blog? Is that something new? It sounds very novel.
NinjaDad: I have read yours. Now read mine.
Henri: Well actually I was here to interview you about being a Ninja.
NinjaDad: ...or you can die.
Henri: Hmm ok I promise to read your blog later.
NinjaDad: NinjaDad dot com.
Henri: Of course it is. Anyways I wanted to ask you a few question about Ninja and I guess also about being a Dad.
NinjaDad: I am NinjaDad.
Henri: Yes we have established that. So is there a NinjaMom?
NinjaDad: Unfortunately no, she passed away a year ago.
Henri: Oh I'm very sorry to hear that.
NinjaDAd: Want to hear a joke?
Henri: Actually let's talk about fatherhood.
NinjaDad: Knock Knock.
Henri: Um Whos...
NinjaDad: This is where I would kill you but since you are interviewing me right now I will only pretend to kill you.
[flurry of movement]
Henri: Um you just cut my arm off.
NinjaDad: Yes but you are not dead. In the real joke I would kill you before you finished saying who's there. And then as you lay dying I then say...NinjaDad.
Henri: Umm can I get a medic here. Can someone dial 911.
NinjaDad: It's in my blog this Knock Knock joke. It's very funny.
Henri: Can someone call Soccerdad and have him reserve the bed next to him so we can hang out while they sew my arm back on.
NinjaDad: Stop talking to other people, you are here to interview me.
Henri: I'm afraid you ended the interview when you cut my arm off.
NinjaDad: Oh sorry if I had known that I would have told a different joke.
Henri: Um can I get like a paper towel here. Is there a la Doctora in the house?
NinjaDad: Stop being such a baby.
Henri: Are you making the all-done sign at me?
NinjaDad: [waving hands] Yes. All-Done. You are big baby.
Henri: Join me next week everybody when I interview...[thud]
NinjaDad: I am NinjaDad.

Sam Wan Superquiz: Answers (Damn you Sam Wan Part Un)

Ok damn. I just took the Sam Wan Super Quiz, and crafty-ass Asian that I am I made a cheat sheet for all of you. You're Welcome. Oh and here's a disclaimer: In all seriousness, reading or using my answers will disqualify you from taking the real test, so do Sam a favor. Participate in the real survey first.

Ok for the rest of you here are the correct answers.

Strange New Dad Invades Rice Daddies: Kudzu Ensues

Hi, my name is Henri and I am an alcoho- (crap I hate when that happens)- I mean I'm an Asian Dad. Thanks to MetroDad for introducing me to the powers that be and thanks to the Rice Daddies crew for allowing me into the inner sanctum of Asian Dadness. The hazing was a little rough, yes my ass still hurts and that whole knife fighting thing while riding the Civics that was a little uncalled for, but in the end it was all worth it because here I am. Asian Dad. You know I never really thought of myself as an Asian anything, I guess that's what happens when you grow up Korean in LA motherfu--- sorry I say that every time I say LA. But growing up Korean in LA motherf-- (stop it) is like growing up white in [insert any American city here]. Oh I forgot New Jersey...if you're Korean in LA or New Jersey then you're just John Doe Citizen Dude because there's just a gang of Koreans and it's not even funny. But being here makes me feel especially Asian (Korean to you Mr. Probst....what? What did you just ask? Yes South Korean, I am South Korean stop showing off Jeff). Unfortunately for the Korean race many people will now see me as a representative of our noble and proud people and for this I say...sorry. I write like a drunk 10 year old ninja pirate (rarest of the 23 types of ninja) and am not very politically correct or minded for that matter. So I highly recommend you click my link and read my blog and realize how inappropriate my membership is to this fine group of good writers...ok crap I'm rambling. I really just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Korean, my wife is Japanese, our son is Irish and we live in Northern California. I like ninjas and whiskey. In a former life I was an artist and writer, now my work is eyeball related and my wife shares the same profession so I also get to send her off to do my job for me whenever I like, so technically I am also a part-time stay at home Dad. Thanks again to Daddy In a Strange Land and Metrodad for bringing me here. The business cards are really nice:

Henri (Corndogandrootbeer)
I'm a Rice Daddy, Bitch

I guess you have to see it to really appreciate it, umm...there's like these little cherry blossoms on the card and the typeset is like raised a bit and I think there's like a little crane in the corner. Is that a crane? Whatever, it's really nice guys. Oh and my Doctor says it's just lateral epicondylitis and not a broken elbow like I thought from F-Bomb throwing me off that Civic. Cheers.