"So I took it to the old tailor lady near the park and asked her how much it would cost to alter it." she continues, "She's cheaper because she spilled Kim-chi on the shirt I took her last time."
My students don't have facial expressions. The math student council sometimes has events, and it seems that one of these events is a dis-interest contest.
Then one day my wife comes home with a toy tennis racquet with a swivel head. "Just one? How can we play without a pair of racquets?"
Geese have down right? That must be it. "How do you get down from a Goose?" I correct.
"Better zip up, Mr. President, Minister Kim will be here in a minute."
"Oh well." I say to myself, a sigh of resignation. "I can just blast the shit out of them on the final."
This is no slipshod operation. It is a highly organised offensive, presided over, with an iron hand, but the purple haired lady that Lisa has dubbed 'The Bottle Boss'.
"I live in Daegu." I say. But I am really thinking is: It's none of your damn business.
