Tag Archives: mangled language

Random Children Chatterings

Although I do have complaints about my school, I have absolutely nothing but love for the kids I teach. They. are. amazing. They make me laugh almost every single day and all the hugs and smiles are great. Here are a few recent bits that happened that made me laugh.

Albert Speaks 1

Albert. Again.

This kid. Seriously. THIS KID.

Me: What is the opposite of “female”?
Albert: Jew.
Me: WHAT?! “JEW”??
Albert: No! Jew. JEW. (makes a ‘z’ gesture)
Me: Do you mean “zoo”?
Albert: Yah. Zoo.

I don’t have any idea what he was thinking. Neither did he, he wouldn’t even try to explain once Jessica said the right answer.

 Albert Speaks 2

The workbook had the word “near-sighted” in it, and the kids didn’t know that particular word. I broke it down into the two parts, and was trying to get them to give me another word for “sight”. They had no clue. Thanks, level-appropriate book.

So I pointed to my eyes, trying to get them to say “look” or “see”. What does Albert come up with when I pointed at my eyes?

Excitedly he exclaimed, “Dark circles!”

Clearly I need more sleep.

Nice Try, Robinsaurus

Me: (teaching analogies) What is to “hand” as “ankle” is to “foot”?
Robin: Hankle.

Black Garlic Juice

So, um. I don’t know how I get myself into these things sometimes. It’s like I practice.

I spotted the black garlic stuffs in the supplement section of my local Emart months ago. My moms swears by taking garlic, so I was intrigued by the black garlic. Obviously black is cool, so black garlic had to be better than white garlic, right?

photo 1

Here’s the box full of boxes of garlic.

Apparently the black stuff is supposed to be better than the regular stuff (according to some websites I perused and can’t be bothered to link to). And because I haven’t seen any other garlic supplements around these here parts, I thought I would give these a try.

Until I took a closer look at the box. First of all, it was huge. Second of all, it was 57,000won (about $55USD). That’s not expensive for a huge box of garlic, but at the time I first started scoping the goods, it was more than I wanted to spend. Also, I’m solo. I don’t really need a family-sized box of supplementation.

But today I figured I was going to go for it. So I’d have a life-time supply of black garlic. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, the worse that could happen is that it isn’t in a capsule. Or a pill. Or a pellet, lozenge, or pastille.

It’s a liquid. A PACKET OF LIQUID.

photo 2

Full of juicy garlic juiceness.

Ew. I mean, right? Ew. It’s a packet of BLACK GARLIC JUICE. Ew. I was scared. Relieved that it wasn’t like those little pellets I’ve had before, but still. Garlic. Juice.

I was a little worried to just rip one of these bad-boys open and pour it down my throat. But there was no information in English on the package at all. Fortunately, there was a website, which told me all I needed to know (kinda) about how to take it. Thank you, Google Translate!

Long story short: Bottoms up. Just rip that bitch open and drink yourself some black garlic juice.

Wanna know how bad it is? It tastes like garlic and (sweet-ish) vinegar. It’s not horrid. It’s not good. It’s not too much to take at once, so I’m just going to down it in a mouthful and then chase it with something (anything!)

Apparently you can take it one or two times a day, so I’m going to try taking it after breakfast or dinner each day. That’ll give me a month of black garlic goodness. If I can remember to choke it down each day.

If I don’t post about it again (like, in a month), it means that I didn’t notice enough of an affect (to my health or skin or whatevs) to bother buying more. But if it does have a noticeable effect, I’ll be sure to post about it.

In the meantime, I really ought to accelerate my Korean study. I mean, I gotta stop buying shit without being able to read the labels. That’s how you end up choking down garlic juice for a month instead of popping garlic pills.

From stinky to tasty in one bath

In 2:30 elementary class we are reading a story called “Animal Homes”, of which a skunk’s home is one of the ones described. So we were talking about skunks. During the discussion, I brought up that the skunk spray is very, very hard to get rid of… especially off a furry pet like a dog. I asked the class what strange thing people think  you should bathe a dog in to get rid of the skunk smell, and the only clue I gave them was that it was something you could eat or drink.

Jessica’s first answer of what to bathe your stinky dog in? Barbecue sauce.

Random Children Chatterings

There were a few gems over the last week or so. Thought I’d lump a few together into one post. Save us all some time.

Evan the Heretic

In one of the 11 years old elementary classes, we are prepping for TOEFL. One of the reading passages was about the death penalty (we’ve also covered the holocaust and a few other cheery topics).

Evan says, “I don’t need to read this. I know all about the death penalty.”

I said, “Oh really? What do you know about it?”

“Well,” he says, “I had the death penalty happen to me in a past life. They punched and kicked and burned me alive for saying that the earth went around the sun.”

That kid is too hilariously smart for his own good.

Stop Hitting Yourself

In one of my kindergarten classes Justin kept asking “who’s punching me?”… while punching himself.

Beer Cup

Kindergarten Ethan rarely answers questions correctly, and I loved this one. There was a picture of a glass that did look a lot like a pint glass. The children all guessed “cup” when I asked “what is this?”

I told them that wasn’t the correct answer. After a pause Ethan pipes up and says, “BEER CUP!”

That kid is going places.

Stinkypants

So, one of our teachers doesn’t smell very good. As in, eye-wateringly bad some days. Last week he took to showering in Axe. He was teaching my kindergarten homeroom for a block, and I had to go in there after him. It stank so badly of Axe, I would have known he had been in there even if I didn’t know my kids’ schedule.

It was so pungent that I asked, “Was [teacher’s name] spraying something in here?” while miming spraying myself with something. It was so strong I figured he must have reapplied in the room. And that’s pretty fucking sick.

“No, Teacher,” Luna replied with her nose scrunched up. “That’s just his body.”

Awesome. Even the kids think he’s the stinky teacher.

Today’s News

That 2:30 class. I love them. Today during reading time, Jessica and Albert started reading like newscasters. Saying things like “Today on Albert News”, and then reading the page of the story like a newscaster. Albert would finish by saying, “Thank you to listening to my news. Over to you, John.”

John was singing his pages whilst dancing. And while he was doing that, Jessica and Ellie were miming taking pictures… the paparazzi.

But perhaps my favourite was Lilly. While the other four children were being monkeys, she just smiled her patient Mona Lisa smile, waiting her turn, and then reading as seriously and perfectly as she always does. What a kid.

A House is a House for Me

My 2:30 elementary class may have the best kids ever in it. They make me laugh pretty much every day. Right now we are reading a story called “A House is a House for Me”, which is a pretty epically long (epically long if you are 7 years old and reading in a foreign language) about how all sorts of things can be considered “houses” for things… if you stretch the meaning of the word “house” a little bit.

We’ve been reading this story for a couple weeks, so to do something different, today I had them close their books and I “quizzed” them on all the different type of “houses” mentioned in the story. Which, keep in mind, we’ve read oodles of times. These were the three best responses.

What is a house for a pea? “A pea is a house for a sausage.” – John (yes, that John)

What is a house for a foot? “PANTS!!!” – Albert (yes, that Albert)

What is a house for a corn ear? – “An earmuff.” – Ellie

My favourite answer was Albert’s, because he was SO CONFIDENT in his response that he stood and shouted it. You should have seen his little face when he heard the correct answer. Too funny!

>Dilemma

>I’m trying to figure out if an effort to translate the entire Bible (both Testaments!) into LOL speak makes me love my fellow humans more or hate them with my whole heart.

Probably hate.

However, I wanted to see what my favourite passage in the Bible (I may be a sinner but that Jebus guy had some wicked cool ideas, yo) would read like in LOL speak.  Conclusion: I don’t think it’s all that easier (or harder) to read than the old English versions of the Bible… but it is infinitely funnier. And I think Jebus would dig that. Srsly.

teh catitudes

1
Wen he seez lotz kittehz, he climbz tree. His BFz climbz tree too.
2
He sez hai and he teaches teh kittehs, he sez:
3
Cheezburgrz 4 teh n00b kittehs, theys can has teh Ceiling.
4
Cheezburgrz 4 teh sad kittehs, theys can has petting.
5
Cheezburgrz 4 teh m33k kittehs, theys can has teh urfs.
6
Cheezburgrz 4 teh kittehs who sez “I can has gud, plz?”, theys can has it.
7
Cheezburgrz 4 teh kittehs dat no pwns, Ceiling Cat no pwnz0rz thems.
8
Cheezburgrz 4 teh kittehs wiff purr in hartz, theys can sees Ceiling Cat.
9
Cheezburgrz 4 teh kittehs dat sez shhhhh!, Ceiling Cat is liek “u mai kittehs.”
10
Cheezburgrz 4 teh kittehs dat gets pwned by otehrs fur haz gud, theys can has teh Ceiling too.
11
Cheezburgrz if otehrs be liek “DO NOT WANT” 2 u, an liez abt u, coz of meh.
12
B teh happys n party, coz u can has cookiez n cakez in Ceiling. Iz liek wen theys been liek “DO NOT WANT” to all teh holee kittehs b4.

>Laundromat Love

>First; learning.

Apparently a “self-service laundry facility” is called a laundrette in the UK. This is wrong. The British people should be chastised for making laundry sound feminine. A-holes. Although I don’t think Yanktown, Canader and Oz are doing much better when you consider how goofy the spelling of laundromat is. Do you say “laundrOHmat” or “laundrEEmat”? Okay, now I’m just being bitter ’cause I had to look up the spelling. And I’ve learned that I was saying it wrong my entire life. Let’s go back to picking on the sexist British instead of thinking about my lack of spelling abilities, shall we?

Or should we just get on with the bloody blog post already? Okay… you the boss.


When was the last time you were at a laundromat? Perhaps you go all the time and will think I’m batty for saying this: I enjoyed it.

I haven’t gone in years… to the point that I don’t clearly remember the last time. I think I was still living in Quesnel, so that would have been a million years ago or so (give or take).

I decided to take it to the ‘mat as not only did I have a pantsload of laundry to do, but my new place has no dryer. What’s with that?

::SIDE NOTE::

Just another reason not to live in Aurghville too much longer. Sigh.

::END SIDE NOTE::

I don’t mind doing a load and hanging it up – I did it in Korea for two years. But here that means giving up every last millimetre of floor space I have in my room (there simply isn’t any other space – see note on “Aurghville”, above). But I’m willing to do it, if it is within reason. But hanging up my bedding? L.A.M.E. x 3, yo:

1. I’ve only got one set of the damned things. What am I supposed to sleep on? What am I supposed to sleep under?

2. They would take up more space than I gots to hang them.

3. They wouldn’t get that snuggy dryer-fresh aura about them.

So I sucked it up this evening and hauled it to the ‘mat, which was hopping busy. Apparently I wasn’t the ony slothing my way through Zombie Jesus’ Birthday Weekend Bananza*. It looked like every geezer in East London had laundry to do tonight.

Good thing there were washing machines available ’cause I had enough dirty goods to fill three of them (without overfilling… there were so many machines just packed full, which doesn’t really work). And at dryer time some nice old guy ‘splained to me how the machine worked.

::SIDE NOTE::

True store: I just said “dryer time” in my head the same way a particular MC used to say “Hammer Time”. Yes, I did.

::END SIDE NOTE::

The problem was that I needed two machines – I filled one with my two loads of clothes and it was the bedding that I really needed to dry before I left. There were two machines that were going to come free. There were two of us waiting. Awesome! One was about two minutes ahead of the other. So I told the other girl waiting to go ahead. Well… the person who was using “my” machine put more money in and effed everything up. AURGHPANTS! But then that lovely person who I “gave” the dryer to suggested that we share the machine and dried all the sheets at the same time. How rad is that?

So I was feeling the neighbourhood love at the laundromat tonight and laundry was the least stressful it has been in ages. And with how stressful everything else seems to be in my life at the moment… I dig the laundromat most supreme. Rock.

*I know a few people personally that could stumble across that blasphemy that I would apologise to, but a) you should expect this sort of malarkey from me by now, b) I’m probably going to hell whether or not I refer to JC as a Zombie, c) I think Jesus would think it was funny, d) I earned back any points I lost with that awesomely correct punctuation, and e) hell anyway.

>Me vs. We

>

You know what phrase I hate hearing at work? One that makes me clench my teeth and makes me want to beat my head against the wall? When my boss wants me to print something that “we” wrote. Like this: “Jodi, could you please print that slide we wrote about the customer journey?”… or similar.
Why do I hate this phrase more than anything? Because “we” didn’t write that slide… or a dozen or so other things the big boss has requested. I’ve written it. On my own. Without her input or muckery. It has been ages since she’s said more than, “can you draft something up about X… you know, similar to Y… along those lines”. I suppose in her wee head that if she requested it, then she’s helped create it. Which in a convoluted, delusional sense, I suppose she has helped to create it. Because I certainly wouldn’t write this kind of BS if there wasn’t someone FORCING me to.

Deep breaths… it isn’t long now until my escape. Sweet, sweet freedom! Here’s hoping the next big boss ain’t like the ole big boss…

>They just call them muffins here

>

One thing that used to be the most fun* in the world was going grocery shopping in Korea**. There was always so much to discover! Were there going to be any new “western” foods in this time? Would I be able to figure out which package of noodles wouldn’t burn my face off? What would a tube of toothpaste with a pine cone on it taste like? So many adventures! And the really big stores, like Lotte Mart and Emart had the added excitement of the world’s most ridiculous clothing sections.***

I remember the first time that I went to Lotte Mart. I was so excited to find Kit Kats that I bought all of them. And a jar of peanut butter (which I am fairly meh about) simply because I recognised it as food. I spent hours in there just looking around. And even after I had lived in Korea for a long time, it was still interesting to make new discoveries, try mysterious new foods, and toss out a bunch of shite that wasn’t actually digestable.

The grocery stores here aren’t that exciting. It is Britain. And they are fairly serious and bland**** about their food. Furthermore*****, all the packages are in English (albeit******in “British English” which is a whole new animal for me), and I mostly understand what the food is about.

There are things that make me smile…. like that they can have an entire section of the store that is just for “Pies”. I’m not joking. These people will eat anything in a pie. It is kind of cute (until they put liver in a pie: not cute at all). There is also beer in every store, which is pretty darned handy. There’s beer in Korean stores too, but only shitty beer. England has some very nice beer. And it is in the grocery store.

There was something the other week though that made me nearly wee right there in the bakery department. The staff at Waitrose probably think I’m a nutter. Well, I got it in my head that I would like some nice English muffins to toast and eat with some butter for breakfast. So I headed over to the bakery department. And guess what? They are just called “muffins” over here. I don’t know now why that struck me as so funny (although it did at the time) because it doesn’t sound as funny now. Perhaps it was the fact that they were sitting beside the crumpets. That’s right – crumpets. I thought that was a food Dr. Seuss made up to rhyme with “trumpets”, I didn’t know it was a real food. Well, it is… and nothing gave me greater pleasure than having tea and crumpets when I got home from the store.

*Granted, a really effed-up version of fun

**Especially with Amelia
***Best find ever: the skin-coloured foot thongs
****Do not ever allow a British person to tell you that something is “spicy”. They are lying. They have no idea what the word actually means. These are people who shut down transit if a slight wind blows.
*****Another great word, but not as good as “nonetheless”.
******Another great word! Better than “furthermore” but not as good as “nonetheless”.

>Fun times on Hooker Hill

>

I’m not going to save any money (or my liver) if I keep this shite up. Seriously.

Friday

At least I didn’t swear that I wouldn’t go out Friday. Because that would have been a lie. Went to Joe and Orla’s place, had some beers, and headed to the Beer Cabin. It’s a friendly little place with this weird mural of an old dude sitting on a porch of his cabin in the woods (in his socks), holding a Cass Beer and miming that he is shooting a gun. A white dude. I DON’T KNOW WHY. But it was fun, with a lot of good conversation and a whole load of beers. All-in-all, a good night. Most excitedly, we found out on Friday night that there is a Subway coming a block away from the school. WHOOHOO!

::SIDE NOTE::

Orla, this one is for you, as per Merriam-Webster:

One entry found for bestiality.

Main Entry: bes·ti·al·i·ty
Pronunciation: "bes-chE-'a-l&-tE, "besh-, "bEs-, "bEsh-
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -ties
1 : the condition or status of a lower animal
2 : display or gratification of bestial traits or impulses
3 : sexual relations between a human being and a lower animal

::END SIDE NOTE::

Saturday

Headed into Seoul in the AM (but not TOO AM, if you get what I mean) to do some shopping and endure some self-inflicted pain with Andy. We went to the Coex first to have a bikini wax done. Although I have had this done many times in Canada, I was nervous about having it done in Korea, as Koreans in general don’t have much hair. So what the hell do they know about removing it?? It wasn’t really any better or worse. It’s a beautiful, universal fact: having hairs ripped out by the root from your pubic area is god-damned uncomfortable no matter where in the world you might dwell. Ouch!

After that, we headed over to the Technomart (didn’t I say it was dangerous that I was brought there in the first place?!? Didn’t I?) so I could get my Nano. And wouldn’t you know… the 4GB black ones were all sold out! Fuckerpants! Looks like Colin will get his before me. But, you know what a trooper I am… I ordered mine online to be shipped to my moms. Who can send it to me. Hooray! This way I could have them engrave “i caught you a delicious bass” on the back for free. If you don’t know what that refers to, you probably didn’t watch the funniest movie to come out in years enough times. Go watch it again.

In order to make up for not spending too much on an Apple product, I bought some more movies and socks. Not Techno-socks, but they are still cool. Then to Itaewon, where we ran into Orla (small country, you know) and went to Hanan Market. Got more dill pickles. Yummy!

::SIDE NOTE::

Regarding the weather this week: It is fucking cold.

::END SIDE NOTE::

After jaunting home for a quick change of clothes, we headed out for (another) night on the town. Long story made short: the girls and boys were each having their own night out. The boys were supposed to be going… somewhere, but the plan fell through. So, they ended up going to Itaewon, same as the girls. But they weren’t allowed (nor did they want to) come with us. They were probably 2 buses behind us. Crazy. Anyhoo, the girls all went to The Hollywood Grill, had some pitchers, then headed up Hooker Hill.

Yes, moms. Hooker Hill.

Andy kept telling us about a bar up there called “Polly’s Kettle” that was supposed to be good times. After ascertaining that she was, in fact, serious about dragging us up Hooker Hill, we relented and went with (I make it sound like she twisted our arms. We were on our way to drunk already by this point. The conversation probably went like this: “We could go to Polly’s Kettle on Hooker Hill…” “Okay.”) It was just a bar, but we had tons of fun dancing and drinking beers. While we were on our way up, we said that we would have to slaughter the boys if we caught them on Hooker Hill. They showed up in Polly’s Kettle not too long after us. Stupid boys. They didn’t stay as long as we did (they weren’t busy shaking it on the dance floor). After it got super-late, we headed back to Hollywood Grill, drank some more beers. Then ate some chicken skewers and headed home.

Sunday

Recovery.

::SIDE NOTE::

Honestly, after Friday and Saturday, what the hell did you think I was going to do Sunday??

::END SIDE NOTE::

Multiple France vs. the bidet


I swear I have permission from Frances to tell the funniest story I have heard in a long time. PERMISSION TO TELL THE WORLD. I’m giggling right now… this is something that doesn’t happen to people you know. Unless you know Frances.

Tonight Frances and I skipped the gym and headed to Lotte Mart. We concurred that our first order of business was to stop and use the toilets. Frances mentioned that the bathrooms there were nice (trust me, not all the bathrooms in Korea are nice, so this is a big deal. Some of them are bad enough that I would rather pee my pants. No, really.) and I asked if she had been to the ones in the new E-Mart. She had.

You need to know that the toilets in the E-Mart are equipped with bidets. Now, I’ve never used one before coming to Korea either, and it was slightly intimidating, because the damned thing is in Korean. But, I gave it a try because… well, there are some things you should try before you die. Having water squirted on my bum in the supermarket bathroom was apparently on my list of things to try. Try to picture the control panel for this bidet: there are about six buttons on this wee box attached to the side of the toilet, and it is all in Korean. Frances didn’t realize that it was a control panel for a bidet. She thought it was how you flushed the toilet.

Before you can start laughing (I am), this gets better. Because Frances was already standing up when she tried the buttons. (Now I really am laughing). She pushed one, and it didn’t seem to do anything. So she pushed another one, and she says “this weird little nozzle poked out from under the rim”. So Frances leaned in closer to see what it was.

Okay, wait a minute… I have to get control of myself.

Okay, I’m okay… nope.

Okay. I’m okay. I can finish this without laughing now…

So of course the damned thing starts spraying water (cold water, she tells me) and Frances panics. She backs up and the water pressure is good enough that it was hitting the stall door. She was crammed into the wrong corner, and got hit again when she had to unlock the door to escape. Then, of course, you now have to picture the toilet spraying water right out of the bathroom stall and hitting the opposite wall.

Oh no… here I go again. I gave myself the giggles.

I’m okay.

Poor Frances! She finally escaped the bidet and had to try and dry herself off using the hand drier. At the supermarket.

Oh Frances: thank you so much for this story! I will treasure it forever…