News Flash: Andrew is susceptible to bad British accents.

I've been out a few nights with this bloke called Tim. He's from Southwest Britain. Normally, I keep my American posture--tie lynching my neck, proper and boring with the occasional regional give-away, "Dude"--but after a few pints of awful awful Korean beer, I find myself swimming in organic Britishisms. Saying "yeah?" after every other sentence, affirmative "right, rights," a few I can't mention, and I even uttered "bloody hell" and "blimey" at one point. The grandest part of this seemingly contrived dialect shift: Most of the time, it goes absolutely unnoticed. I'm a passing Brit. We chastise Tony Blair and toast to the queen and nobody bats an eye. This may be because others do not differentiate us in this country, so we now lack the ability or desire to differentiate ourselves. I suppose my understanding of my identity completely relies on context. Further proving that an innate, unique self doesn't exist. I don't exist. But I graduated college a while ago, so I really don't need to discuss this.

The other night I was at Vitamin's apartment, spending the evening with he and his family. And while his wife and two daughters slaved over a hot stove and a cutting board, the men of the house sat on the couch, complacent and aloof, watching the soccer game. The men of the house couldn't be bothered with woman's work, after all, Beckham was on. The men of the house didn't lift a finger; that would threaten their masculinity. God forbid. I tried to walk over and help at one point, but was asked to stay and watch the game. The gender divide was apparent. The work delegated. I shouldn't rock the boat. I should just sit back in front of the television like a toothless blockhead and ignore patriarchal oppression, ignore inequality, ignore blaring double-standards. Put away your soap-box, Drew. This isn't the time. All those texts you read about gender politics and feminism need not apply here. They are loftly Americanisms. You shouldn't rock the boat. Yeah, you needn't the boat.

Moving on, dinner was delicious. I'm glad I didn't meddle and mess it up. We had kimbop, which is like a sushi roll with pork, cheese, radish, and egg wrapped in rice and seaweed. As for the photograph, my co-teacher didn't use flash for any of the pictures that night inside his apartment, so this was the least blurry of the lot. Keep in mind, the previous discussion is just a cultural thing that sort of gets under my skin. In no way is it a reflection on the character of my co-teacher.

I'm at Will's this weekend in Seosan, I'm looking forward to it. It's still snowing like the dickens, but that won't stop this group from having a good time. Whelp, I'm about to hit the streets. We'll meet back her in about a week. Ciao.