The end of the year is busy at Expat Hell Enterprises LLC Headquarters. So much so, that I’ve had to hire three new secretaries just to sift and sort through the mountains of fan mail I get on a daily basis. I suppose success and attention come at a price, but luckily, with the economy being what it is, I’ve got three googly–eyed, 20 year old, wafer thin, plastic surgery addicted, former Gangnam Room Salon dick-suckers with wobbly asymmetrical silicone stuffed tits who now sit around a large mahogany table in my main office and open mountains of fan mail for me every day for $4 USD an hour. God damn I love this country.
The secretaries are all called Ji-young. There’s Ji-young Kim, Ji-young Park, and Ji-young Choi, because, I suppose, at some time in the past there was a trend where every Korean daughter was named ‘Ji-young’. Trends are very important in Korea, as is conformism, so my ESL teacher reader shouldn’t be surprised at all should you happen upon an entire classroom filled with Ji-youngs at some point during your (hopefully) short sojourn in the ROK. To make things simple, I’ve let the girls choose English names (Western office, Western rules. Don’t like it? Fuck off). Unfortunately, all three have decided to name themselves “Sally”. Having predicted this situation, I had the forethought to visit a local silk-screening shop, and have a bunch of skin-tight spaghetti strapped tops silk screened with the numbers 1, 2 and 3. The girls wear the shirts (no bras allowed in the office, please understand my culture), and I now refer to them as Sally 1, Sally 2 and Sally 3.
The first day of training was hell. Literally hell. You’d think the googly-eyed Gangnam princesses would be able to do simple things, like open a piece of fan mail with a letter opener. Of course, your assumption would be wildly wrong. As one might expect, none of the Sallys have ever opened their own mail before. You see, when your fake tits are so big that you can’t even see your own feet, there are all sorts of wonderful benefits. One of them is that you don’t have to pay any of your own bills. You have a different man (sucker) paying each and every one of your bills. Isn’t life great? The problem is that all of your dick-sucking money goes to plastic surgery, and you have to get a day job to pay for basic things, like food. And so the Sallys sit around the large presidential mahogany table at Expat Hell Enterprises LLC Headquarters, and open all of my fan mail.
Funny story: On the first day of actual work, I walked into the board room where the three Sallys were sitting around their table. I greeted them with the normal morning pleasantries, and followed up with “Alright then ladies, let’s get to work!” With that, all three Sallys stood up, climbed the mahogany table, stripped off their clothes and began pouring expensive whiskey down their tits, streaming down their legs, running off their toes into shot glasses they’d aligned at their feet. You can take the girl out of the room salon, but you can’t……
To avoid confusion, and because one syllable English names are hard to pronounce, the three Sallys just call me 오빠 (oppa), which is a term of respect in Korea, given by younger females to older men who financially support them in exchange for sexual favors. The three Sallys don’t read any English at all, which sometimes makes evaluating fan mail a bit of a challenge. “오빠!! Good, long fan mail!” exclaims Sally # 1, and she bounces over to my desk, plops down on my lap and opens up the email database, clicking to a page long letter from a die-hard fan. “Good” and “Long” are for some reason part of her 10-word English vocabulary. I suppose I should be thankful.
I open the letter and view it on my screen:
I do love a good piece of fan mail, especially letters from disgruntled Korean patriots who have fled Korea for greener pastures. The above piece is quite descriptive and comes from a die-hard Korean fan living in Irvine California. I’ve personally never been to Irvine, it’s a bit too south for my tastes. I’ve heard the stories though; Korean massage shops tucked away into strip malls, and UCI students prostituting themselves for handbags. It sounds like a mini version of Korea, but I can’t be sure, as I’ve never been.
Well my angry Irvine friend, thanks for the letter, and thanks for again reenforcing the notion that America seems to be a magnet for immigrants of the highest calibre. I suppose we’ll be seeing you on the news shortly then? Perhaps you’ll shoot up a school, or spray a shopping mall with machine gun fire? In any case, I’ve forwarded your letter and your IP address to the Department of Homeland Security, so Merry Christmas!
“Not good and so long piece of fan mail?” Sally # 1 does a duckface pout while sitting on my lap. “No Sally #1, while that reader is certainly a fan, I’d have to say that his letter was rather violent and uncalled for” I explain. “Really? How about this one?” She pouts, and clicks open a new page in the fan mail database. I check the screen:
“No Sally #1 my dear, that’s our same enthusiastic Irvine friend. It would seem he disagrees with some of the writing in our fine publication”. “He not fan?” she asks, pouting again. “Sorry my dear, keep searching” She sulks back to the presidential mahogany desk, carrying her Samsung produced Macbook Air knockoff.
Sally # 2 trots over to my desk. Sally # 2 is special. She can hold a pencil between her tits, even with her arms spread out to the sides 180 degrees. I’m thinking about making this part of the employment test. She can also count to ten, barely. Counting certainly won’t be part of the employment test. “Oppa! Fan mail!” She sits down on my lap and clicks to a new page in the Expat Hell fan mail database. Another long letter from another devoted fan:
Sweet suffering Christ on the cross! 1,443 words of fan mail love directed at yours truly. I’m flattered. Completely flattered. Of course, this piece of fan mail also comes from a Korean patriot who has left Korea, and currently resides in Minneapolis. Strange how that works, but glad to get his email anyhow, because at least our friend types coherently. What puzzles me is his motivation for writing such a piece. Furthermore, why he is talking about Korean women is beyond me, because if there is any topic I’d least like to write about, it’s the dating and courtship of Korean women. Nothing puts me to sleep faster than reading about dating and relationships, and nothing interests me less than the dating lives of Korean women, or foreigners residing in Korea. He also throws in a Samsung defense, and an “even whites used to hang blacks for looking at their women” reference, seemingly in defense of his ‘hands off our Korean women’ mentality. Not sure how that works, and don’t really care about the topic in general, but figured if he were steadfast enough to hash out 1,443 words of correspondence, the least I could do was humor him by posting it here.
“Good job Sally # 2, this man is certainly a VIP member of the Expat Hell Industries LLC fan club” To which she replies: “Really? I go sleep him now?” eyebrows raised in question. “No my dear, you don’t need to go sleep with him now”.
All this fan mail wears me out, so I walk outside for a breather. I take the stairs down from Hooker Hill, past the Rocky Mountain Tavern and cross the street, heading down past the Hamilton hotel and towards the mouth (or ass-end) of Itaewon. I pass a shop selling cowboy boots. I gaze in the window. I’m not sure whether to be happy, sad or puzzled. Cowboy boots in Korea. How did they get here? What is the source, or supply of these cowboy boots? Dead or sleeping cowboys? And who buys them? Korean puzzles remaining to the solved. And should I ever solve the mystery of cowboy boots in Itaewon, I fully expect to receive more fan mail, explaining how wrong I am on every account. God damn I love this country! Wishing my reader a happy new year, and good fortune in 2013.