Last night I cut up some hot peppers for tokk-pokki before taking off my contacts and going to bed. When I wake up this morning and put in my contacts, my eyes burn a painful, yet oddly refreshing,
God: Hey Mark. Me: Hi God. God: Just a thought, why don't you call your blog 'Stories about coffee'? Me: You think I write too much about coffee? God: You write a lot about
I buy a small coffee maker for home. I have a normal one in my office, but need something for the weekend. Its a two-cupper- they used to sell these at Canadian Tire. One time, long ago, when
Lucy delighted us with her first bit of wordplay yesterday. Eunjoo asks me [sic], "Why your back hurt? You sleep on your stomach?" "No, I slept on my back." I say. "Me too,
I'm walking across campus and see the Bottle Lady. I hide before she can see me. If she had seen me, this is what would have happened. (I can't recreate her grammar, but believe
To celebrate the lunar new year in Korea, a family rents an old lady decked out in traditional clothing and walks her through a park. You can have a picnic with her, or if its too cold, you
Eunjoo throws a plate of fruit at me. It's all diced up, so it doesn't hurt, but her meaning is clear. She is angry. Or I'm not getting enough fibre. Or I&
Mom: Hi Marky. Me: Hi Mom. Sorry we missed Christmas. Mom: Oh don't worry about it. It was a wash anyways. Me: Sorry to hear it. Mom: A wash is good Marky. Me: Oh. Then congratulations.
