Monthly Archives: May 2014

torture via nyc subway

seriously mta? i hope you realize that if i don’t have a job, i can’t afford to pay you.

you don’t know what hate is until you ride the nyc subway every day. people take the subway not because it’s by choice but because they either live too far to walk and/or refuse to take the bus. a true new yorker does not take the bus. why, you must ask? because we just don’t. there are a few exceptions, for instance, if you’re trying to cross town, if you live in queens, you’re a senior citizen, or you’re suddenly RKO outta nowhere’d by a sneaky service change.

i leave at the same time every day, but i will somehow manage to be late not because it’s my fault, but because of the train. the most painful/annoying/frustrating part of it all is when i’m only a second late. due to the wonderful world of billable hours, when i come in at 9:37:30 AM instead of by 9:37:29 AM, i’m 15 minutes late and a part of me dies a little inside.

my day starts off with an alarm that sounds like something went horribly wrong in a nuclear lab. i always thought life threatening danger would wake me up, but instead i find myself still laying in bed unfazed.

after the successful completion of my daily obstacle course of dodging dog sht that their responsible owners don’t clean up after, pigeons that perfected the game of chicken, and playing frogger with bicyclists, i am rewarded with a daily dose of three-minute sunlight and an entry to the cave of death.

the mta stations look and feel like you’re entering a gas chamber, especially in the summer. it’s fcking horrible. you’re standing there waiting for a train that likes to come whenever it wants, suffocating in a thick humid cloud of sweat, rat poison, diseases, and other fun things with barely any room between you and the person next, front, and behind you, sandwiched in a hell hole with the promise of an AC’ed train. occasionally you might be able to spot a rare “what a beautiful day. everything is wonderful!” creature in the form of another human, but you’re smarter than that to fall for their tricks. NOT TODAY CREATURE. NOT TODAY.

you would think the torture would end there. but nope, this is just the beginning.

when you enter the subway car you will almost always come across one of these types of people:

e-addicts
then there’s those people who are so hypnotized by their electronics they lose all sense of reality. if they take their eyes off their device for a second, they’ll lose their high. don’t fck with them. they may bite. these addicts are violent people. while binging on their high, they will step on your shoes, bump into you, and will not let you enter or leave the train. they will also walk down the stairs at the speed of a child learning how to walk for the very first time and make you miss your train.

pole hog
if you don’t possess the prime real estate (the two corners by the doors) you can either fall on your face, slam into a stranger (chosen at random), or find a metal bar to hold onto. but you must remember that there is no such thing as a free pole. you will encounter these guardians securing the pole as if it was made of gold. i guess that would make sense considering that the mta fare increases every year yet the service seems to get worse. you can try a silent and passive aggressive approach by gripping the part of the pole that is right in front of their face, but yet these fckers will not get the fcking clue. go ahead, make all the eye contact you want, it won’t work. you see, the pole hog is blinded by greed. only after loudly voicing “excuse me” from built-up frustration, you just might break their spell.

peek-a-reader
if you live near the first/last stop of the train, you’ll be lucky enough to get a seat. as you snuggle into the hard plastic chair sat on by thousands of people, you’ll look around and find some relief that the coast is clear of pole dancers, crying babies, screaming children, and random appearances of singing (optional) people asking for money. the man/woman sitting next to you doesn’t smell and you start to think “hey, maybe today will be a normal day.” well, guess again.

a peek-a-reader is not a cute pokemon. they are sneaky little elves disguised as normal people who possess the same abilities as a possessive girlfriend/boyfriend. whatever you’re reading or doing, they will just peek-a-glance. sometimes they don’t even realize that they’re doing it until they realize they are breathing closer and closer to your face. to ward off a peek-a-reader, one must occasionally throw back a glare of discomfort, silently giving them a warning that you will reveal their true identity if their behavior does not stop.


exiting the train isn’t any easier. once you reach your stop, all of the men, women, and children by the exit become professional football players forming a defensive line at the end zone. FYI, they lose the game if they let you off first. after much resistance, if you’re lucky enough to even exit the car, you can lavish yourself with the feeling of a newborn baby that just exited the womb.

following your birth by your subway car mother, a gleam of light will shine down on the escalator of frustration. don’t be fooled by the light. your journey does not end here.

there’s an unspoken rule that applies to escalators. if you want to stay stationary stand on your right. if you’re going to stay in the left then learn how to fcking walk. there’s a special place in hell when you’re in front of the non-stationary line and you suddenly decide to stop in the middle for no reason at all during rush hour.

after the struggles, finally, i reach my destination. it wouldn’t be so bad if i was greeted by cute little puppies and pints full of ice cream. nope. instead i’m just returning to the daily grind, sitting behind my computer screen, typing away only to repeat the same journey tomorrow.

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the wonderful world of dating – part three

you think you finally met the perfect gentleman. but no, he’s just another thirsty man.

3. “i’m the smartest guy you will ever meet”

you think you have it all: a high paying career, very reputable alma mater, and the height of 6 rulers (or at least close to it). you may not even possess all of the said qualities, maybe just one or a good looking face, but for some reason you think you’re entitled to all the pussy in the world. well, i’m sorry to break it to you, but you need get over yourself.

after a meeting a guy, the end result will go in 1 of 3 ways: friend, relationship, or stranger. “friend” is just a genuinely nice guy who likes to meet new people regardless of intent. “relationship” is always the mystery man hidden among the many “friends” and strangers. and “stranger” is the one you wish you never met.

the men who fall into the “stranger” category are the type of guys who are nice to you up until the point you reject them. you better watch out because if you don’t put out, you just committed a hate crime. the act of respecting yourself will disgust them to the point where they just can’t bear to make eye contact and does everything and anything necessary to get you out of their presence.


the most common “smartest dumb” questions this genius will ask:

“what’s the real reason why you won’t sleep with me?”
seriously, do you really expect me to answer this question? would you allow me to submit the answer double-spaced, times new roman, size 12 font?
unlike yourself, i don’t have ulterior motives or a significant other i forgot to mention. the reason i won’t fck you is because my level of respect for you is still in the negatives. as guided by the rules of amusement parks, your respect level is not high enough to ride this ride. and plus, if you have to ask, obviously you’re doing something wrong.

“i just want to put it in once.”
seriously, does someone actually fall for this? because every time i hear this line, i can’t help but cringe. so you’ve been trying for the past 15 minutes to try to fck me but you’re only going to put it in once and then pull out? yeah, okay. nice try.

so mr. big shot, it seems that even after the x amount of years of being alive, you still haven’t grasped the concept of the word “no.” just in case you didn’t know, it does not mean “please force your hands down my pants,” “please try to take off my bra,” “please try to dry hump my leg,” or “please show me your penis.” now that you’ve been taught the formal meaning of “no,” let me also provide you with a supplemental lesson on the meaning of borderline rape.

since your attempts were unsuccessful, why do you go ahead and attempt to attack me emotionally because that’s definitely going to work. for instance, you can proceed by calling women needy and insecure? then continue to assume that the only reason why i won’t have sex with you is because i’m afraid of being too easy? well now, isn’t that the icing on the cake? it can’t possibly be because i’m not attracted to you or that i don’t want your dirty rapist penis touching my precious vagina.

i honestly did not know that going out for drinks or dinner was an unspoken agreement for the exchange of sex. because the amount of shock and betrayal exhibited on their face indicates that i had clearly violated my end of the deal.

“out of sight, out of mind” does not work with your misogynistic attitude. learn how to man the fck up and stop being little btch because you finally met a girl who won’t fall for your bullsht.

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the wonderful world of dating – part two

being an girl is tough. being a korean girl is tougher.

2. “i love kimchi!”

i hate when guys use the culture card. it’s as if we’re playing pictionary and he’s guessing the first few words that come to his mind when the word “korea” pops up. dude, you’re just scaring me. stop.

let’s start with the word “kimchi.”
i don’t know why people think it’s a big deal that they can eat it. cause it’s really not. it’s a dish of spicy fermented vegetables. not even the main dish. it’s a fcking side dish. it’s just there on the table like salt and pepper.

if it’s not kimchi, honorary mention goes to bibimbap/soondubu/galbi.
“i’ll take you to koreatown to get some *insert random korean dish*”
btch please. i rather go by myself. and plus, i like pizza.
it’s almost as if they’re expecting me reward them with a key to a hidden massage parlor with happy endings just because they can eat korean food.

to make matters worse, he’ll bust out some random words.
“ahnyoung!” “saranghae” “nuh yaebbo”
first off, be respectful and add “-hasaeyo/-yo”.
secondly, you think you’re cute, huh?
it’s as cute as frank oiled up in always sunny. please stop.
it’s also quite obvious that your hearing is impaired because i’ve been speaking english this whole time.

a conversation with the kimchi loving, butchered korean speaking man would usually begin with the following dialogue:

“where are you from?”
new york

“no, i mean where are your parents from?”
new jersey

“no, i mean country.”
…usa

it’s as if being american is not good enough that i have to belong to another country. if you must insist, i’m korean american, but why does that matter?

is it because you’d like to make the conversation interesting and ask me if i’m from the north or south? why don’t you make it even more interesting and ask me if korean men are abusive?

instead why don’t you please go ahead and ask me the ultimate question:
“is it true that asian girls are kinky?”
every time i hear this question, the feeling of cringe i get is equivalent to walking into a room while an old man is fondling a child. you’re just left speechless in disgust while standing there in shock trying to understand what is happening in front of your very eyes.

moral of the post is that when people resort to stereotypes it’s fcking condescending and violating. be yourself and keep the cultural comments to yourself.

to my kimchi loving, butchered korean speaking man, please do me a favor and stay away from me because i don’t need a green card and most importantly i ain’t got time for that.

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