MinJungKim.com

Famous people have toilets that are riced out.

With blue LED lights.

Wow.

Followup to one of yesterday’s posts

Originally uploaded by minjungkim.

Followup.

Caveats per Sinfest.

Like. Totally.

IMG_1398

Originally uploaded by Nicole Lee.

I’ve been pulling the adult thing at work.

Coming in on time. Addressing and escalating projects, putting out the professional communications, and wearing the adultlike shoes and avoiding wearing my hoodies in the workplace. I even brought a plant in to the office.

But inside, I still really feel like a kid. A total young’n dork. With a penchant for whimsy.

One of the better compliments I’ve heard in a while was from Mr. Andy who stated,

“Hey, but you’re a really cute drunk”
Yeah.

This pic reminds me that I’m sometimes pretty damn mischievous and dorky still.

*********
Last night watched Sin City.
Gorgeous film. Pulp dialogue. Interesting thunks spinning out of it associated with identity and the cruxes that everyone carries as a result of identity, a world of black & white, morality that falls painfully beyond the black and white, and how sometimes pain is the only reality that people know and can respond to.

Followed up by reading this book that a friend loaned me recently. Mysticism in the dessert. Mages & trying to summon the presence of angels. Pulp in it’s own fashion. Followed by reading a chapter of “The God Who Won’t Let Go” by Peter G. Van Breemen which guides me through some meditations on personal faith and acceptance in a multi-hued and pixilated universe of myriad depths and textures. Follow that on with starting through the introduction of Moral Maxims by Francois LA Rochefoucauld, – originally published in French during the 1600s.

From Francois LA Rochefoucauld:
103.–Those who know their minds do not necessarily know their hearts.

109.–Youth changes its tastes by the warmth of its blood, age retains its tastes by habit.

114.–We are inconsolable at being deceived by our enemies and betrayed by our friends, yet still we are often content to be thus served by ourselves.

118.–The intention of never deceiving often exposes us to deception.

119.–We become so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that at last we are disguised to ourselves.

One considers those that are sins against God and sins against one another. Everyday circumstances and the analogies that trickle out like blood and breath from the seams of our daily life.

Not everything is sin.
And certainly very little is Black or White.

And yeah, inside my head today, I’m a little pink.

SinFest

Originally uploaded by minjungkim.

Saw this and had to giggle.

A penchant for dudes who are emotionally unavailable.

My friends tell me I’m a crushaholic that way because it’s safe. Go figure.

Crushes in my lifetime?

a) Don’t live in my timezone
b) Are emotionally unavailable/taken
c) Entering the priesthood
d) Couldn’t date me because of my brother’s fraternity moratorium
e) Were rebounding
f) I worked with and you don’t pee where you eat
g) Workaholics without any time for me
h) Consider me forwhatever reason “intimidating”

Which makes me feel an awful lot like
Pucca. < ===Click and watch all flash animations. It'll make you giggle.

Korean shabu shabu

Originally uploaded by umetaro.

Just thinking that I really miss Annie.

Kissing Bandit: My darling darling darling woman!
Moi:And a long time indeed checking in with you. How goes it?
Kissing Bandit: Grand grand. Oh, life does get better every year, doesn’t it?
Moi: Eh, depends on your attitude.
Kissing Bandit: Oh poo. Why must you always be an irritating pragmatists?
Moi: Oh, cuz the world is full of beautiful flakiheads like you, so someone is always responsible for picking up the pieces…

Kissing Bandit:…
Moi:…

Kissing Bandit:.. “Is that… is that how you think of me? A sequential disaster that needs regular rescue?
Moi:…
Kissing Bandit:…
Moi: No … I mean, not always. Come on now. We’re friends. We do different things. We behave differently under the circumstances, but you know I always got nothing but love and props for you.
Kissing Bandit: Yes. But something…
Moi: Just.. just… I mean…
Kissing Bandit: What?
Moi: You know how your MO is a total 180 of my MO.
Kissing Bandit: Yeah, though I think you’ve come around a bt.
Moi:Hmph
Kissing Bandit: Think whatever you will. Just know that someone was thinking of you
Moi: I know. I know.
Kissing Bandit: And like all that happy birthday shit. I bet that even the president coudn’t rall that many sincere and loving people in the same room. Sounds like your friends are farking dope!
Moi: They are. They trully fucking are.
Kissing Bandit: No doubt.
Moi: So… um… yeah. No.. Seruiously we totally have a plan.
Kissing Bandit: Sure?
Moi: Yes. I’d bet my life on it.
Kissing Bandit: Good, then I’ll bet your life on it too.
Moi: Brilliant.
Kissing Bandit: Ah Sir, never underestimate our capabilityh of mischief.
Moi: Oh, I don’t think ever will again

Ah, when my writing was still fresh and snarky.

I have such an affinity to listening to water.
It makes me silly, and occasionally wasteful.
I extend bouts of washing dishes and bathtime.
I extol over sorting through laundry as I hear suds and water slosh against each other.
When inconsolable, I head towards to beach to toe my feet in sand and listen to crashes that carry the heft of violent experience that is at once so beautiful and so accustomed and comfortable with their own volatility and energy.

I sleep best when I hear hard, sincere, and purposeful rain pound hard overhead at night and on roofs.

But my favorite, dear favorite, are warm summer rains. Something that living in the bay, provides precious few of.

Instead, summer rains in SF surmise an experience of sneezing and accidentally having our nipples, so impacted by the fridgity and any followon sneeze, to tear through your angora sweaters as if they were diamond tipped razors slicing through tissue. This is both highly embarrassing and quite costly. I stopped buying angora in ‘95.

And tonight, perhaps I’ll listen to the sink leak just a little bit until I can fall asleep properly.

Going around all day in your head thinking “OMG, these are like so great. I can’t believe someone bought me super awesome sparkly falsies.”

And then realizing.

Farking a. Those aren’t falsies. Those are PASTIES.

But one of these is for makign you look like you gots some jugs when yo don’t, and the others are for putting on your nookums to swing wildly as you jiggle it.

And neither are meat pies. Well, actually, I think that’s a whole other joke too. Which if you have something along the lines of a tofu-faux meat pasty, that’s really quite much more like the falsie afterall, then isn’t it?

Oh man. This is terribly horrifying how my brain works sometimes.

My icing job was supposed to say, "Happy Fuckin’ Birthday Min Jung – Love, Fuckin’ Us" but I couldn’t fit it.

Originally uploaded by Glenda.

This cake lovingly provided by Glenda, Jason, & Matt.

I heart you guys.
Strawberry short cake is zeeee fricking best.