04/04/01
“That’s not lying, that’s just fiction”
So after hanging out with Monte today on a writing date, he, myself, and Jon went out for noodlesoup and I was reminded of why exactly, I love my brother, and that the Kim’s, though, not Jewish, have a heapload of chutzpah. (Extra phlegmy when you saye the *chutz* )
“So have you, like ever taken advantage of the naive?”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeah, that’s like, so machieavellian sounding”
*Shrug*� To me, sometimes, some folks are just *asking* to be yanked around.
Take for instance, the following story.
My family was growing up in a podunk litttle suburb of Detroit. We were not terribly advantaged.� In fact, we were tremendously humble and frugal in our living.� My parents insisted on sending us to the private Catholic schools and scrimped and saved to get us in.� Additionally, we scored well enough to get scholarships. In that situation, as it were,� we were obligated.. er…prone to um.. fiction.�
It wasn’t uncommon at CC, my brother’s school,� for boys to be dropped off in limos or posh lincolns and cadillacs with a uniformed driver, as many of the students were the sons of VPs at General Motors, Ford, and the like.� There was an exceptional snob hierarchy about and if you know us Kims, you’ll know that we don’t do well with snobs, we’re smarter than your average bear(or park ranger), and we think it’s a cardinal sin to waste alcohol, but that’s another story altogether.
Anyways
One day, a snotty yet naive freshman inquired to my brother, a junior at the time
Freshman: “So yeah, what does your dad do.”
My bro: “Oh, I don’t really want to talk about it”
Freshman: “Oh, come on now, talk”
My bro: “Well, we own a few stores…”
Freshman: “Really? What kind?”
My bro: “Well….you do know what the K in Kmart stands for right?”
Freshman:(eyes widening in awe) “Woah”
My bro: “Yeah, we really dont’ like to talk about it too much, but Dad’s so proud, he won’t let us wear anything that you couldn’t find at� KMart.”
Freshman: (nodding in agreement) “Yeah, I could see that…”
My bro walked away, calmly, with his head held high.
It wasn’t lying right? Just, hmmm fiction.
Milk
Inspired by Ernie. Boy, did I tell you I slept with him? Yeah…bowm chika bow bow.
Another version of the Milk Story starring Min Jung.
FYI: My Catholic name is Julia and as a result of the most disturbingly poor English speaking skills by my parents, it sounds like Judy-yah.
Mom: Joodeeah, you mustuh dreenk mirlkuh
Me: Um.. ok
Mom: You dreenk more, and maybe your boobs will grow bigger.
Me: Um, thanks Mom.
Mom: Seeryousuh, I make for you, chocoratuh mirlkuh ok? Ok Joodeeah?
Me: Um, sure mom.
(Passing me chocolaty brown beverage.)
Mom: Dreenkuh and then go do homework
Me: Um, ‘kay mom.
(Sip)
(Grimace)
(Spit in sink)
Me: Mom, what the heck is this? You trying to kill me?
Mom: Wha?!� Mirlkuh bad? I check da datuh…no dateuh fine.� Wazza mattah?
Me: (Looking at the carton, incredulous)
Mom: Wha? Wha wrong?
Me: Um, mom, you just made me drink chocolate buttermilk.
Ewwww right?
Had a pretty productive day with the writing thing.
Life ain’t so bad. This I love, the fact that I don’t miss my last job a single ounce.
I miss some of the people but the job itself, fuggedaboutit.
MJ
