The Korean waitress who gets chewed out by me takes her "Han" out on the Dish Dog.

By: Peemil.

There is a saying in Korea, it goes something along these lines. "A scolded daugher in-law can only take her "Han" out on the dog." The idea of "Han" is like carrying around grievances and passing them onto somebody else.

It is a thoroughly ridiculous concept. Unlike the West, rather than redress grievances from the direction that they come, somebody who has been scolded or has been done wrong by somebody with a "higher" station in life, turns around and delivers their pain down the line. In the West, we call this being a cunt.

After the baseball yesterday evening we decided to stop off at Bennigan's and get ourselves some Casadias. According to my girl, it would be fitting end to a lovely evening. She certainly loves her food and I'm always willing to eat something.

We sat down at the table and ordered our food. Only a couple of minutes later our waitress comes back to inform us that they haven't got what we wanted. This is where the anger begins. I can feel it rising up inside of me, but through years of practice I have learnt to swallow it down into a little ball and leave it there. So we both swallowed our rage and looked over the menu again. We decided to get Fahitas this time. The waitress left and said "Sorry."

I always say that my girlfriend knows me better than anyone else I know so it's about this time that she starts prodding me. "You know Peemil," she says. "This really pisses me off. Everytime we go somewhere they never have what we want."

"Yeah" I muse to myself. "They never do."

"I mean it's on the menu, so they should have it."

"Hell yeah." I think. "They should have it on the menu."

"It's like all those times we went to TGIF's and they never have the burgers."

"Fuck yeah. The burgers. Fucking bastards." I brood to myself.

"Or those other times when we've come here and they don't have what we want."

"The assholes. What do they think they are running here? Jesus H. Christ!" I think.

"I mean if we were here with (a friend of the family who is a very nice bloke but knows what he wants) he would say, 'I don't want anything else. I came here for that and that's what I want. That's why I chose your place of business.'"

The anger rises in me again and I blurt it out.

"Fucking dickheads. What does it take to keep a stock report and average out the amount of food they use in a particular period and order accordingly? I mean, how long has this place been open, they must know what they need. They couldn't run a restaurant if their life depended on it. I'll fucking show them."

So the food comes out and it's unsatisfactory. So I launch into a fitting tirade. The funny part about this is she now turns around and plays good cop, while I'm the bad cop. So now we've got one angry Peemil, a woman who got me all angry in the first place playing nice, a polite but stifling rage waitress and food on the table that is unsatisfactory.

Eventually we got extra stuff sent out to us and a discount on the bill. I wondered when we left, whether the waitress went out back and took out her "Han" on the dish dog. I also wondered whether I had taken out my "Han" on the waitress. Most importantly though, I wondered how my beautiful girlfriend can seemingly play me like a fiddle.


Above: A waitress with big boobs. It's a shame our waitress didn't have big ones. It's so hard to get angry at big jugs.

Covering small mammals with concrete.

A couple were invited to a swanky family masked fancy dress Halloween party. The wife got a terrible headache and told her husband to go to the party alone. He, being a devoted husband, protested, but she argued and said she was going to take some aspirin and go to bed and there was no need for his good time to be spoiled by not going.

So he took his costume and away he went. The wife, after sleeping soundly for about an hour, woke without pain and as it was still early, decided to go to the party.

As her husband didn't know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him. So she joined the party and soon spotted her husband in his costume, cavorting around on the dance floor, dancing with every nice "chick" he could and copping a little feel here and a little kiss there.

His wife went up to him and being a rather seductive babe herself, he left his new partner high and dry and devoted his time to her. She let him go as far as he wished, naturally, since he was her husband. After more drinks he finally he whispered a little proposition in her ear and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and had passionate intercourse in the back seat.

Just before unmasking at midnight, she slipped away and went home and put the costume away and got into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would make up for his outrageous behaviour.

She was sitting up reading when he came in, so she asked what kind of time he had.

"Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you're not there."

Then she asked, "Did you dance much?"

He replied, "I'll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the spare room and played poker all evening."

"You must have looked really silly wearing that costume playing poker all night!" she said with unashamed sarcasm.

To which the husband replied, "Actually, I gave my costume to your Dad, apparently he had the time of his life."

Here are your links for today.

Apparently, I'm weird. "Sylvana Finds" is a blog with a lot of links to other good blogs. Including my drivel.

The hottest butt on the Internet returns. Have a look at Keyra Augustina.

"You just never know in baseball. Anything can happen."

By: Peemil.

It's 5:10 on Sunday morning and I've been kicked out of bed. Well, kicked out isn't the best way to describe it. It is more like I left voluntarily. There's not a lot else to do down here in Daegu at this time in the morning except come to the PC room and write in this blog.

The reason for my vacating the bed is simple. I snore. I snore like a bulldozer operating on a worksite at three o'clock in the morning. Like the constant passage of passenger jets overhead or the revving of a Harley Davidson. My girlfriend once made a video of it with our webcam one evening and I was shocked. It is atrocious. I just lay there with my gob open making the sounds of a hibernating bear.

It's not suprising then that my girlfriend sleeps in a separate room. She is a light sleeper and sleeping next to me does deprive her of what little sleep she does get. One morning I walked into her bedroom to get my pants and there she is in the early morning light with her eyes wide open. I said to her "Don't you ever bloody sleep?" I sometimes wonder whether she sleeps with her eyes open.

Most evenings then, we crawl into the same bed but she makes a move as soon as I knock off to sleep. It just makes it difficult when we go and stay somewhere and we have to share a bed. Usually then, I just set the alarm for really early, have a quick nap and head off and do something else. That way she can get some sleep.

I am not too concerned with sleep at the end of the day. During the spring and the summer, I am up at five in the morning and only get four or five hours. During the winter I sleep a little more, as I despise having to get out from underneath the blankets.

But it's been a good weekend. The baseball was great and I got my computer fixed on Saturday morning. The computer was a serious problem. I ended up calling someone out to help me with it. The real problem was that my XP was in Korean, so despite the help that I got from forums and reading up on the problem, I couldn't do what anyone suggested because I couldn't find it on my computer.

The best part of it was the guy came out, fixed the problem and installed English Windows on the system. For anyone in Ulsan, he is a Korean fellow and you can find an ad for him in "The Pear," under Hitchcock Computers. He speaks good English and is a thoroughly likeable chap.

By four o'clock we got down to Daegu and found our way to the place that we usually stay in. We had Burger King which, for those of you in the west is not a big deal, but for us coming from Ulsan, it is like we've stumbled over the Holy Grail of fast food. I've been tonguing for a burger and yesterday it really hit the spot.

Then we hit the baseball field. We've never been to a game down here and we were pleasantly surpised to find out that the field is located close to town. One thing about baseball in Korea is that Korean fans go off. They've got the big clapper sticks and they're always getting organised into chants and general loudness. We one the other hand, opted for the moneyed seats. Well, 6000 won to be exact. Right behind home plate with the rest of the baseball snobs. We did have a guy come over and try to induce the crowd into general hysterics but it wasn't going to happen. A large majority of us were intent on watching the game and drinking our soju or beer. The reason that we bought these seats is because we don't want to be bothered with the general riff-raff. Just give me a semi-comfortable seat, some beer, sunshine and a baseball game and I'll sit contented until the end of the game.

While we watched my girlfriend and I usually natter away about everything and anything. Somewhere along the line we were talking about the possibility of a ball hitting a bird mid-flight. She stated that, "You never know in baseball. Anything can happen." Which seems like a reasonable assumption for most of life.

I asked her though why the pitcher doesn't try to goad whoever is on first base into running more often. You know sometimes when the pitcher sees the guy on first inching his way towards second and pegs the ball to the first baseman, in a feeble attempt to get the fella out? I suggested that he stuff the guy up and throw it to the guy on third. Then the third baseman can throw it to second and hopefully catch the guy before he gets there. If not, they can always catch him in the middle of first and second base and throw it to one and other until the runner cedes that he is out.

I therefore extrapolated from this theory that they could quite possibly just throw the ball to everyone on the field and see if the guy runs. Apparently though, this doesn't happen in baseball and I'm just being silly. But you never know. Anything is possible.

You can always tell if it's her toothbrush in your mouth.

By: Peemil.

It was a magical evening that we spent together. We got loaded on cheap wine and had sex in the bushes. When we were finished I zipped up my trousers, gave her a sly wink and said, "That was brilliant. But I've got to go." She asked me whether or not we'd see each other again and I replied that, "In this crazy world anything is possible."

You can only imagine my suprise when I am looking at the daily headlines and found out that she is pregnant. Britney, or shall I call you "Brits?" It kind of rhymes with "grits," which could of been part of the breakfast that I didn't buy you. Who could of ever imagined that our shag in the bushes would end up with you pregnant?

I know that you are married and our lusty encounter was just a passing thing, but as the bearer of my child I think that I am entitled to at least a second shag. Maybe this time we will go out for breakfast. Maybe we might even go out for dinner. But, do you remember how we can't keep our hands off each other? I can imagine us now, attempting to eat our burgers before discarding them in the bin and running off to shag in the toilets.

Britney, do you remember when we first met in that bar? Your eyes and mine met over a crowded room and I walked up to you, brushed your hair aside and said, "G'day. You're a right looker. Fancy a drink?" I got you a bottle or two of "Jacob's Creek Chardonnay" and I drank my fair share of beer. You said that you really didn't understand my accent but the sexual lust between the two of us was too much.

This situation is hard on both of us. We are kept apart by distance and by your marriage vows. But I promise that I'll send you some child support every month. Nothing will be too good for our baby. I'll get another job and pick up a couple of hundred dollars every month. Who knows? If we budget right we might be able to send the little tyke off to Community College one day. You never know. He might just turn out to be a Doctor.

If you'd be so gracious as to grant me some visitation rights, I can take the lad out on a Saturday afternoon and teach him the finer points of Rugby. I want him to be in touch with his Australian heritage and learn to tackle and play the game that they play in heaven. I don't want him running around an American football field in shoulder pads and a helmet. I want him out there, throwing the ball backwards and hitting a man hard without any protection. The way that it's supposed to be done.

I'll instill in the boy a sense of pride in his roots and teach him to take the piss out everyone and everything. He must laugh and cajole the most mundane of things in the name of good humour. I'll teach him to say "Mate" and "G'day." I think the exposure to different ways of thinking can only be good for the lad.

I think that we should keep it between ourselves. We don't want your husband to find out about it. I'm sure you think the same way. I still haven't told my girlfriend about our little indiscretion. I don't think that she needs to find out. If we are going to raise this child right and without psychological disorders, I think it's best too if the lad doesn't know that I'm his natural father. We'll just say that I'm an old friend from "The bush." That's an Australian joke right there.

It hurts me when I read your e-mails and I can feel your anguish. I know that it's difficult having this three way relationship, but we are both adults and we should keep it on that level. Let's not argue about who come onto who, or if I am really the paternal father, we have our child to think about now. We have to do what is best for him, and that means keeping a level head.

Even now I think about you in my dreams and wonder when we'll finally see each other again. Remember to eat up through the pregnancy. I don't want an emaciated baby coming out of you. I want a strong lad. That means lots of meat and vegetables and none of that fancy stuff that you eat in Hollywood. Even if your career suffers because of stretch marks and a pot belly that won't go away, I want you to know that you'll always be my Britney and the magic of those minutes in the bushes will never be forgotten.

Above: "Jeez darling. Go and put some clothes on. You don't want to get sick, you've got the baby to think about now."

Random kicks in the testicles from strangers.

Sherlock holmes and Dr Watson are walking throught the park. They pass a bench with three women sitting eating bananas.

"Good afternoon ladies," says Sherlock.

Dr Watson turns to Sherlock and says, "Do you know those ladies?"

Sherlock smiles back and says, "If you mean do I know the Nun, the Prostitute and the married woman, no I don't."

"That's remarkable Holmes," says Dr Watson. "How did you know what they were?"

"Elementry Watson. The first woman is breaking bits of banana off and eating it, I deduce she is a nun. The second is ramming the banana in with both hands, therefore she is a prostitute."

"And the third? How did you know she was married? By a ring?"

"No, by the way she is holding the banana in one hand and pushing her head towards it with the other."

Here are your links for the day.

Do you remember the Virtual Bartender I posted a while back? Well, now there are two.

Kids with guns. It's always interesting.

Guess what my computer has got.

By: Peemil.

Dear Complete and Utter Cunts,

If you write viruses, trojans, worms or spyware this letter is for you. Whatever you like to call yourselves, hackers, computer geeks or the United Brotherhood of Indian Programmers, I don't give a fuck. You people make me sick.

You foul excuses for humanity are nothing more the excrement coming from my arse after a big night on the curry and beer. You are the fine traces of shit in the toilet bowl and the brown stuff that floats to the surface. You are the smell of week old used tampons left in the sun. You are the wretched refuse of the world.

Don't you pitiful excuses for human beings have anything else better to do with your time than write programs that are the scourge of the computer world? Why don't you all go back to auto-fellating yourselves and leave the rest of us alone?

I know it must be difficult being such wretched social misfits with Oedipal complexes, but you fuckers are too much. If you were real men you would go back to doing damage to peoples property the old fashioned way. With a baseball bat and an attitute. But no. Instead, you have to sit behind your computer screens masturbating vigorously, fucking yourselves with a toothbrush and thinking about how far and wide your insidious pieces of code will travel.

If I ever come across anyone of you worthless cunts I am seriously going to fuck you over. I am going to take a rusty blade, cut of your balls and feed them to you. Then I'm going to put your cock in a vice and press it till it is no wider than a piece of A4 paper. Then I'm going to tie you up, and beat you senseless with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

But I'm never going to beat you long enough that you die and are delivered from this world. I'm going to leave you hungry and cold in my basement and everyday I'm going to come down and cut you with a razor. Slowly and deeply. When finally I relent and heed your pleas for mercy, I'm going to gut you like a pig and show your intestines to you before your pitiful existence ends. Then I'm going to tie you to the back of my car and drag you around the city.

I'm sure that the Police when they pull me over and find out your crimes will be more than helpful in helping me build a public outhouse, where citizens from far and wide will line up for days on end just so that can have a shit on your body.

You fuckers make me sick,

Peemil.

"Now Bob. When we rob this store, let's get away with more than just Snickers bars.".

A couple are married 25 years. One night when they are getting ready for bed the wife says to the husband, "What did you think the first time you saw me naked?"

"I thought I'd love to fuck her brains out and suck her tits dry." He replied.

"What do you think now when you look at me naked?" She asks.

He says, "I think I did a good job."

Here are your links for the day.

Cover your ears and cringe. Here is the worse half time show I've ever seen.

Win a Cafe. You heard me right. You can win a cafe and $50 000 just by submitting an essay.

The cat will be ok in the microwave, as long as you wrap it in tin foil.

By: Peemil.

We're off to the big smoke this weekend. Well, at least off to Daegu. I'm hoping that it'll be a good weekend. We are going to a baseball game on Saturday night, so let's hope that the weather stays fine. Lately though, we've been having wonderful weather through the week, but when the weekend comes it gets cold and wet.

Baseball is an under-rated game. Coming from the land of summer cricket, where you lay on a blanket and sleep for ten overs at a time, I'm no stranger to long games. Your average baseball game goes for about three hours, so it's plenty of time to get pie eyed and relax. It's quite an enjoyable experience. The game moves at a good pace, there's always the anticipation of catching a fly ball and there is always beer. Beer, sun and a sport of some kind is a perfect combination. I'd go and watch a tiddlywinks competition as long as it was warm enough and they were serving beer.

I was lucky enough to go to a baseball game in the States on the 4th of July weekend last year. I'm not sure who was playing. I was excited to just see the fireworks. Most Americans are suprised to find out that fireworks are illegal in Australia, and we haven't got access to large warehouses that sell stuff that goes "boom." It was something else though. Huge fireworks over the stadium and stupendous booms. I felt like a five year old kid watching in wonderment.

The closest thing I had to a firework show in my small town happened every year at the town festival on Friday night. The same blokes every year would apply for the permit and set up their display down in the park. When the time would come on Friday night for them to put on the show they were often completely and utterly pissed as farts. I've got no problems with drunk people playing with fireworks, it seems to be a national past-time in the States, but if you could of seen these Three Stooges in my town park running around trying to light fireworks and completely stuffing it up, you can imagine my childhood disappointment.

While we were in the States I did manage to get hit in the face with a flying bottle rocket. It hit my cheekbone thankfully, ricocheted off and explode a good few feet from me. We'd only been in the States for a few days and I had just met my girlfriends' parents. So, it's 4th of July BBQ time and all of her family has come around. I'm standing in the backyard talking to her brother, her family is sitting in the patio area behind me and out in the yard her Uncle is sitting on the grass lighting fireworks with a lit cigar between his spread open legs. I remember thinking, he's either going to blow his balls off or one of those are going go astray. What do you know? I was right.

A little bottle rocket decided that it was going to fall over and not head for the sky. Instead it was going to hit me in the face. I had just enough time to realise the threat, duck unsucessfully and yell a loud "Fuck me" in front of her assembled family. "Not to worry," I stated when asked if I was alright. "That's nothing a little beer won't fix." We all had a laugh about it later. Apparently, it was my initiation. The cut was small but deep. It had thankfully hit me right on the cheek bone. Although, I'm still not sure if I impressed her family with my impressive ability to drink beer and shrug off a firework attack, or if I disappointed them with my cursing.

What is the moral of this story? I like beer.


Above: Things that make you go boom.

My date blue balled me, so I slammed her tits in the door.

By: The Preacher.

You may remember me. I am the Preacher who confessed that he was going to kill himself, right here on this blog recently. The Lord though, reached down to me and touched me on the shoulder while I was putting that rope up. It was then that I knew my purpose. I had seen the light and now my life is true and pure.

The Lord has guided me back here. The Lord has given me a mission. We must clean up this sinful world. We must sweep up the faeces of Satan wherever he may lay them. Wash away the blood of the unbeliever and cut the hair of the harlot. Let God's name ring from the hills and let us all rise in joyous song. Praise God!

We must destroy those who would revel in the seven deadly sins. Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth. All must tremble and fall in the presence of the Lord all mighty! Praise be to him!

There are so many sins, and so little time. Praise be to him! Praise God! Put your hands up! The world is a fat place. The world is a world of drive-thrus and fast food. Of hamburgers, special sauce and cheesy fries. The Lord looks down on this world and we are shaming him. Everytime we go up a belt size the Lord is angry.

But our eating habits are never learned in adulthood. It is our parents who teach how and when to eat. Children these days, don't have their mother and father to teach them. The liberal modern world has destroyed the family, and left millions of children to be raised by the television.

What do they see when they turn on the television? The Devil comes disguised in many forms, no more so pungent and vile as the Cookie Monster. A fat, greedy, blue monster from the seventh circle of Hell. Gluttony is on the menu with this sick fur ball, and it is our children who are suffering.

I implore all good Christians everywhere to seek to entrape this repugant monster with my simple and effective method. Praise the Lord! He has spoken!


Above: Begin with your average box of cookies.


Above: Unwrap two cookies and place on a cutting board.


Above: Get an everyday meat mallet and bless the work that you are about to do. Say a quick prayer to the Lord. "Dear Lord. We who would do your work on Earth seek your eternal blessing on these cookies we are going to mash in your name. Amen."


Above: Strike thy cookie with the mallet of the Lord. Sing out his name and praise him.


Above: You are doing the work of the Lord now. Beat that cookie into a mash and think of the good that you are doing in the name of the Lord!


Above: When the cookies look like this, the bait of the Lord is complete. Soon that sick and vile Cookie Monster will be back in the Seventh Circle of Hell, being sodomised by the Devil himself.


Above: Yes. It is the fluid of the Lord. Holy Poison to make that Cookie Monster gag and vomit his way back down into hell.


Above: Apply the Holy Poison liberally. Don't worry about the smell. The gluttonous greed of the Cookie Monster can never resist the temptation of cookies.


Above: Leave the blessed Cookie Monster bait in a bowl and construct signs around it urging the Cookie Monster to eat. Remember he comes in the evening while you sleep. From the depths he comes to consume the cookies of the world. Leave your bait on the table and by morning you should find one dead Cookie Monster.


Above: The scourge of the Cookie Monster can only be banished to hell for a short period of time. Eventually, Satan sends him back to the Earth to feast again. Be ever vigilant my flock. Set your traps every evening. Praise God. Hallelujah!

-The Preacher.

Quietly shitting yourself on the way to the gallows.

A gay man walks into a greengrocers and asks for the biggest, fattest, longest cucumber they had. When the grocer asked "Do you want it sliced?" The gay man replied, "What the fuck do you think my arse is? A piggy bank?"

Here is your link for the day.

I wouldn't want to go out this way. A rally car driver has a little accident.

Daddy hides his secrets out in the barn.

We've got another recipe here from Faulty Basil, our resident in house Chef. All these recipes are designed specifically for those in Korea. You will find the ingredients for these recipes are easy to find and the cooking time is usually minimal. We all know that you'd rather be out drinking, than at home cooking.

Easy Beef Stew.

1 Onion.
1 Green pepper.
1 Carrot.
2 Potatoes.
1 Zucchini.
300 grams chuck beef.
2 Cloves minced garlic.
1 Can of tomato paste.
1 T black pepper.
1 Beef boulion cube.
Water.
Salt.

Serves four.

Peel and cube potatoes. Boil in a pot until just soft enough for a fork to go through without resistance. (You dont want to overcook them because they'll fall apart when you stir the stew.) Drain, but save some of the water.

Chop all the vegetables into small pieces.

Brown meat in a frying pan. (Don't worry about cooking all the way through.)

In a large pot, mix boulion cube with two cups of hot water. Add tomato paste along with 1 to 2 cans of the potato water. (You can always add more water later if needed. remember, it's a stew, not a soup.) Stir or whisk until blended smooth.

Add meat, along with juices from the pan and all the other vegetables/spices. Bring to a boil for a few minutes, then turn heat to simmer for about one hour, stirring occasionally. Leave half covered to prevent too much moisture from escaping. Add more water if necessary.

Serve with bread and butter.

- Faulty Basil.

An Asian Pirate with a semi-automatic rifle and a machete should be taken very seriously.

By: Wally Winchester.

It seems that Wally Winchester, our Chief Editor of Nigerian e-mails has received the following.

Blessed Friend,

This letter may come to you as a surprise due to the fact that we have not yet met. I have to say that I have no intentions of causing you any pains so I decided to contact you through this medium. As you read this, I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because, I believe everyone will die someday.

My name is Davood Mohamed, an Indian by birth am an oil merchant in Iran, and I have been diagnosed with prostate and esophageal Cancer that was discovered very late due to my laxity in caring for my health. It has defiled all form of medicine and right now, I have only about a few months to live according to medical experts.

I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone not even myself but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world. I believe when God gives me a second chance to come to this world I would live my life a different way from how I have lived it. Now that I know my time is near, I have willed and given most of my properties and assets to my immediate and extended family members and as well as a few close friends.

I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth. So far, I have distributed money to some charity organizations in Thailand, Sudan and Ireland. Now that my health has deteriorated so badly, I cannot do this my self any more. I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and donate the money, which I have there to charity organization in Bulgaria, they refused and kept the money to themselves. Hence, I do not trust them anymore,as they seem not to be contended with what I have left for them.

The last of my money which is the huge cash deposit that I have with Financial Firm Abroad (name with held ) to the tone of $18,500,000.00 USD (Eighteen Million five hundred thousand dollars) .I will want you to help me collect this deposit and dispatched it to charity organizations and let them know that it is I Mr Davood Mohamed ,that is making this generous donation.

Please if you willing to carry out this last wish for me ,please send me the following information , so that we can proceed and I will have my lawyer send you all the necessary documentations that will facilitate the release of the funds to you.

1. Full Name
2. Your Telephone Number and Fax Number
3. Your Contact Address.

I am writing this from my laptop computer in my hospital bed where I wait for my time to come. I pray that God uses you to support and assist me with good heart. God be with you.

Remain Blessed,

Davood Mohamed.

This is what Wally wrote back.

Dear Mr Mohamed,

I am sorry to hear of your condition. It is a difficult time in anyones life when they are facing their maker. I can only imagine the torment you are going through, knowing that you have lead a life of such ill-repute and have selfishly accumulated so much wealth.

It is noble that you have decided to redistribute this wealth. The world surely needs more people like you. However, I will be unable to help you at this present time, because I find myself in much the same predicament.

Recently, I took a sex tour of South-East Asia. I tell you, the women there are something else aren't they? You are a rich man. I'm sure that you've dabbled in the sexual satisfaction that only three Thai hookers at the same time can provide. Have you ever had a young girl suck your dick and another sit on your face while the third tickles your testicles with a feather? It is heavenly.

However, on my return home I noticed some spots on my penis. I wasn't concerned at the time, having been told that if you use a condom on every third prostitute you can avoid any diseases. So I went to see my Doctor. He said that I was a lunatic and took some tests. It seems that I have severe cases of genital warts, the clap, crabs, herpes and syphillis.

The Doctor also took some tests for "SUV," or something like that. The results haven't returned yet, and I am still not sure why he needs to test whether or not I've been in that type of vehicle. Maybe he was worried that I was in his car and he might catch something.

I'll tell you, my dick isn't a pretty picture at the moment. It's green in places, with big black sores and everytime I go to the toilet it burns like the fires of hell. The pubic lice give me a lot of trouble in the evenings and I often wake up in the morning with gapping cuts down there. It seems that I scratch myself till I bleed while sleeping in the evening.

You have no idea what this has done to my sex life. I've had to cut my masturbation down to only three times at day and I need a lot of tissues to clean up the pussy discharges that occur through this activity.

Recently, I was lucky enough to score with a woman at a local club. I bought her home, but she fled after seeing my penis. I'm never one to brag, but it really is a huge one. Maybe she was scared of the deep dicking I could give her.

The next day I was still horny after having been denied sexual satisfaction, so I decided to head down to my local brothel to engage in pleasurable pursuits. I picked out my girl and headed up to the room. After she unzipped my fly, she said that "She wasn't going to deal with that." By this time I was getting sick of women complaining about my huge dick. I know that it difficult for women to get it in there, but I'm a sensitive guy, and had bought my own astroglide to the party. I said to her that she was going to take every inch of it.

Can you believe what happened next? She reached behind the bed and pulled a gun on me. On me of all people. Nobody pulls a gun on Wally Winchester. So what I did was this. As I turned to walk out the door and when her guard was down I snatched the gun from her hands and put a bullet right in her head. While she was still warm I gave her the full 11 inches that only Wally can provide and then put my money on the nightstand. I don't want to be rude.

So as you can see I'll have to respectfully decline your invitation. You can see that I have some serious problems going on right here. But I must not dally. It's three o'clock and it's time for my second wank of the day.

Yours Sincerely,

Wally Winchester.

"How to tell a child that their parents are dead."

Sometimes you just have a run of good images that are too good not to share.


Above: Cruel and heartless. I like it.

Sacrificial virgins and the chainsaw of purity.

An ugly man walks into his local pub with a big grin on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" Asks the barman.

"Well, I'll tell you," replies the ugly man.

"You know, I live by the railway. Well, on my way home last night, I noticed a young woman tied to the tracks, like in the movies. I, of course, went and cut her free and took her back to my place. Anyway, to make a long story short, I scored big time! We made love all night, all over the house. We did everything, me on top, sometimes her on top, every position imaginable!"

"Fantastic!" exclaimed the barman. "You lucky bastard....was she pretty?"

"Dunno...Never found the head!"

Here are your links for the day.

Porn in front of the computer. God damn it people. Close the door.

The Gods are angry. A tornado appears out of nowhere at a childrens soccer game.

Daryl Somers and Deli Delights.

Rex and the City has an interview with a fine looking Melbourne girl who has to be seen to be believed. I tell you, if I was single and living in Melbourne, I'd be buying sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I also found out that Daryl Somers, somebody who I'd of hoped had found himself a large rock to go under for the rest of his natural existence, has got himself a new television show. This is not news for anyone in Australia, but it surely is for us expats who can't remember the last time we saw a Neighbours episode, let alone the comeback vehicle for a funky sweater wearing pansy like Daryl.

Apparetly, it called "Dancing with the Stars," and is based on the BBC show "Strictly come Dancing." The idea of the show is simple. Eight celebrities pair up with professional ballroom dancers, get some basic training and then enter into a competition with each other to see who wins. Daryl Somers in a Channel 7 press release called it, "[L]iving on the edge' live television." You can read the rest of the press release here.

Above: Daryl and Ossie Ostrich get their freak on.

Teen movies, popcorn and unprotected sex with your date.

By: Peemil.

It's hard when you're a young bloke. You spend a lot of time thinking about the time that you'll finally lose that cherry of yours. It's a confusing time in every young fellas life. But everyone eventually loses their cherry, and most times it's over before they know about it. Premature ejaculation is the scourge of the seventeen year old boy. Pregnant teen girls the world over know the pain of wondering if ten seconds of confused sex was really worth the bun in the oven.

Boys. I know it's difficult. You're finally banging something out the back in a dirty bed at your mates party. But you've got to put the work in there. You've got to do it for the team, and that means going the extra mile and not blowing your load before she has a moment to hike up her legs. The fact is, if you put in a good effort, she'll come back for more. If you don't, she'll never speak to you again.

Remember. It's all in the mind. Never think about sex, while having sex. I don't desire cookies when I'm eating cookies. Do you know why? Because I have what I want. Don't start thinking about cheerleaders, Japanese upskirt porn or your mates Mum who is MILF. Just chill out and think about some of the things below.

1. "Mario Cart" is a great way to let your mind wander. See if you can play the levels in your mind. In fact, play any game that you enjoy in your mind while getting it on. I used "Mario Cart" when I was a young fella because I really liked that game. Lately though, I think about "Call of Duty."

2. Don't listen to your dickhead mates who tell you to think about something really disgusting, like having sex with your Grandmother. That is just sick and demented. Don't think about foul shit like that. It'll just make the experience painful and it'll probably scar you mentally for the rest of your days.

3. You know you've got study to do. I used to think about my up coming exams and run over my notes in my head. Nothing guarantees longetivity more than thinking about the up-coming exam on the French Revolution.

4. Get really loaded. Drink as much beer as you possibly can to get rid of the nerves. As you'll find out, drunken sex is quite possibly the worst sex that you can have. The problem is that it never ends, which is great for your purposes. Just be sure not to vomit on her. Always remember, nothing will make a woman panic more than being vomited on.

5. If you're having unprotected sex, you are a dickhead. But if you want something that is going to make you stop blowing your load into that ugly skank underneath you, you're onto a winner. Think about this. If she gets pregnant you are going to be stuck in this miserable town for the rest of your life, working a shit job and coming home to a trailer to her. She's going to be a fat, ugly mole and you'll probably have a couple more kids running around too. You will never get anywhere, or do anything except fall into bed every evening, deep in the drink, wondering what the fuck went wrong.

6. Hide a good book somewhere that you can read it. Just be sure that she doesn't catch you reading it.

7. Don't vocalise everything. You just get yourself excited. I don't care if your mates are on the other side of the wall listening. It's not a porn movie. Do you vocalise when you are jerking off? No. So why do it when you're getting it on?

8. A final piece of advice. If she asks, "Were you thinking about me?" Just say "Yes."

Whatever happens we'll always have the memory of running over that cat.

I can't resist doing another picture post today. Especially when I see things like this.


Above: I don't know. Maybe it isn't as satisfying to lift your kilt, as it is to unzip your fly?

Since we're feeling so anaesthetised.

She married and had 13 children. Her husband died.

She married again and had 7 more children. Again, her husband died.

But she didn't give up. She remarried and this time had five more children. Again, her husband died and, alas, she finally died herself.

Standing before her coffin, the preacher prayed for her. He thanked the Lord for this very loving woman and mother, and said, "Lord, they're finally together."

One mourner leaned over and quietly asked her friend, "Do you think he means her first, second or third husband?" The friend replied, "I think he means her legs."

Here are your links for the day.

I forgot about this one yesterday. In the blog yesterday, I was writing about having gone seen "White Noise." The movie is based around the study of EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena, which is basically people trying to communicate with the dead through listening to the white noise on their stereos or televisions. Here is the website of the American Association of Electronic Voice Phenomena. You can listen to a selection of recordings here.

This is a work of art. Chinese Take-Away Prank.

Above: I don't know if I want to communicate with these people.

It's always easier to blame the guy with the jacket over his head.

By: Peemil.

The Marmot has an article today about two Americans who were arrested for teaching with forged documents. They were arrested after a joint investigation with Interpol.

I've got no problems with the Police arresting and deporting foreigners who teach without the appropriate qualifications, which in Korea amounts to having white skin and a degree. But what I do have problems with this statement from a Police official. "The demand for foreign English teachers is increasing explosively, but since we have absolutely no system to check the authenticity of degrees, the quality of English education is decreasing."

They have got to be kidding me. Last time I checked the best way to check if a degree is real or not, is to simply call the University where the degree comes from and ask whether person X received a degree from University Y. It's that simple. But unfortunately, as anyone who has had trouble with Immigration in Korea will know, the staff at their offices speak minimal to no English at all. Hence, calling Universities and engaging in conversations with foreigners is out of the question.

You would think that someone, somewhere, would think that it would be appropriate that they should staff their offices with people who can speak the language of those who it has the most dealings with. Unfortunately not. So people with fake degrees made up on Ko Sahn Road in Thailand or a myriad of other online places simply sail their way into Korea.

But you know it's all our fault. It angers me that the appalling state of English education in this country is blamed on us. Some of us are dedicated teachers and put up with an awful lot around here. Others are just cowboys, coming for a year and leaving. From what I've seen though, they are the minority. The reason for poor English education here is the fault of Koreans themselves.

A majority of foreign English teachers work in Private Institutes which are like schools for after school. There are no checks on these places. Anything goes when it concerns education. Most of the time a childs education is inexplicably linked with profit margins. They aren't classrooms, but baby sitting services that attempt to amuse the students long enough so that Mum and Dad continue to fork over money each month.

Often as a foreign English teacher your role is that of monkey. A white face for the classroom so that the Director can impress parents. Be damned if you want anything resembling a classroom. Go to hell if you want anything that even resembles a syllabus or anything that might improve your students education. Hell, if they were learning and it was a classroom they wouldn't be happy and there wouldn't be any money.

You'll even find on umpteen occasions Korean English teachers who don't speak a word of English. I can think of few off hand here. But the infuriating part of this is, because you are a foreign teacher you are "less" of a teacher and hence are below the "magic" of the Korean teacher, who can't even tell you the time in English. So you are screwed once again.

The continued stress on rote learning and the study of English grammar are more thorns in the side here. At my workplace my boss gets the children to memorise great tracks of English, but they don't understand a word of it. It's impossible. I've even had a Korean teacher who could speak reasonable English say to me. "You know my English improved when I stopped trying to memorise everything, stopped focusing on grammar and just tried to speak English." No sooner had he said that he said. "But we must teach our students grammar and make them memorise as much as possible. They need to pass the University entrance exams. So we must study from the book." It's like talking to idiots.

The reason that these Private Institutes exist is because Korean parents are attempting to prepare their children for an exam that basically sets out their child's life. If a student does well on the University entrance exam, they'll go to a good University and get a good job. If they don't do well, they go to a second rate University and get whatever job they can. So, as far as I am concerned, something akin to child abuse happens. Most students here go from one institute to the other and are in a classroom from seven in the morning to ten in the evening. When they get closer to the exam they stay till midnight or one in the morning. It's not unusual around here to see students walking home at one in the morning.

They are just there gettting their heads crammed with stuff. Just like robots repeating the same stuff over and over again. When it comes to English education you'll find that the older students have a huge vocabulary of English words but have no idea what to do with them. So you get students who have studied English for ten years who panic at the first sentence after "Hello."

It's an impossible system. If the Government was really serious about English education they would swallow their pride, look into the system that they have created and fix it. In the land of losing face though, this isn't going to happen. So, for now and forever, they'll blame the foreigners and wonder why they can't be taught English.


Above: The two most famous jackets in Korea at the moment.

Japanese panties hanging in the bedroom window.

By: Peemil.

Dear Prince William,

I'm writing this letter to inform you that a large majority of the world thinks that your Dad is a big eared twat without a modicum of a sense of reality. A lot of us feel that he would make a bloody awful King, and the fact that he recently married that horse faced slut, only increases our feeling of apprehension.

I can only imagine the anguish you are going through right now. I do hope that you don't call her "Mum." If I had to do that, I would wretch violently at the very thought of uttering those words. I would hope that you and your brother have a wide vocabulary of words and names to call her when she is not around. I would suggest "Cum guzzling slut who wants to be Queen" and "Frizzy haired tart." I wouldn't suggest calling her "Daddy's cock slave." Just the idea of those two in bed gives me shivers up my spine.

To be honest with you, I'm an Australian and hence your Grandmother is our Head of State. A lot of people down here would like a Republic, but for some of us, myself included, can't see any reason to change. Your Grandmother is a really good Queen. She has guided your country through fifty years of hectic change in society and has left us Commonwealth nations alone to decide our own futures. This I don't mind at all. However, I do have problems with your Father taking the throne. I can't think of anything worse than having him as Head of State. Especially with that wife of his in tow.

I believe that alot of people would be satisfied in knowing that you are King. I would positively rejoice if you did take the throne. You are already smarter and more worldly than your father, who I have read, has someone put toothpaste on his brush in the morning. You've got to be shitting me. That just borders on the absurd. When I see you, I think you're the type of bloke who would have a few beers, pull a couple of cones and head off to the club to score with the ladies. I'm sure you get behind them and give them your best for England. You're the type of bloke I could trust being King. I mean, if your Father can't put toothpaste on his brush, I despair to think what would happen if he ever had to make a serious decision.

Honestly, I think the best thing you can do is to kill him. I know that it's a little bit extreme, but deperate times call for desperate measures. I know that you have allies there who would help you. The Queen didn't attend the wedding. You know she's really pissed about this. I'm sure that you are her number one boy. Moreso than that dopey looking fuck from her womb. She'll be in on it. Just casually bring it up over dinner sometime. Just say something like, "You know I was considering killing my father so I can take the throne." I'm sure that she'll put her knife and fork down, wipe her mouth and say, "Fuck yeah. That big earred fuck has had it coming for a long while. While we're at it let's kill Camilla. I've always want to pop a slug in that ugly moles arse."

It's too easy. Just keep it between yourself and the Queen. Don't let anyone else in on it. Especially the house servants. They've got a habit of going off and telling the press what is going on. You've all got a lot of money. There is nothing stopping you from hiring a hitman to professionally do the job. You could always drop poison in his glass, or just bludgeon him to death with a candle holder. I'm sure you've got some really big and heavy ones laying around those castles of yours. The possibilities are endless.

Just between you and I though, I believe after you get rid of Charles and Camilla you should get rid of the Queen herself. I mean she is the only one who is going to know about this. She could give the game up if she cracked under questioning. Everyone knows that she is getting old, so just nudge her down a stairwell or something. Just make sure it's a really long one. You've got to get that neck broken.

After that, you'll be King and everyone will be happy. If you need any help I'd love to stomp Camilla's face. Just e-mail me.

Your Loyal Subject,

Peemil.

Post-it notes on my back that say "Kill me."

Here's a good blog. Arm the Insane. Written by a proud redneck. It's worth a read.

Also, have a look at Old Orient Galerie The world's largest collection of vintage Chinese and Japanese advertising and calendar art. There's nothing quite like women advertising cigarettes.


Above: Once she puts out that cigarette that bloke is going to tit-fuck her.

Bukkake Bitches Local #326.

I'm not one to post images, but this one caught my eye.


Above: For all the Star Trek fans out there.

A pickle, banana and cheese sandwich.

By: Peemil.

Yesterday we had lunch at Outback Steakhouse. For the Australians here who have never seen one, it's an American chain restaurant in "Australian style." The decor is always the same in every store, "blokes" and "shelias" on the toilet door, little funny signs with Australian humour and picture frames hanging crooked. I'm not sure why the pictures are hanging crooked. It worries me that the impression people will get of Australia is that we can't hang our pictures straight.

The food is ok. We are still in Korea here, and this is the closest thing you are going to get to a serving of steak and chips. They are all served with amusing names like, "Toowoomba pasta,""Drover's ribs," "Kookaburra wings" and the always popular, "Grilled shrimp on the barbie." One item caught my eye though. Outback Steakhouse states that it is the "Home of the Bloomin' Onion." For the sake of description, it is an onion, cut open like a flower, deep fried and then served. It is quite possibly the most repulsive thing I've ever tasted. However, the blurb that accompanies this culinary delight is more interesting than the food itself. "An Outback Ab-original from Russell’s Marina Bay" You just couldn't get away with that at home. You can check that, and other descriptions here.

After our meal we went to see a movie. There's about three cinemas in Ulsan now, but they only play an extremely limited amount of English films. Most films that come out in the rest of the world never get played here in Korea. For the most part, you have to wait until they come out on video, which usually takes a while. Sometimes about a year after its original release in the rest of the world, video shops will start stocking it here.

We went and saw "White Noise." Now I know that the critics haven't been too kind on this movie. Everyone is allowed to have an opinion. It's just a shame that they are wrong. I loved it. The subject matter was good, it was interesting and it had freaky ghosts coming back from the dead. What more can you want?

My girlfriend really dislikes horror films. Usually, I watch them when she isn't around. Funnily enough though, she will get scared during "Freddy vs Jason," but put her on the largest rollercoaster in the world, or any manner of terrifying theme park ride and she'll giggle all the way around. It doesn't make any sense to me. I'm usually the poor sap sitting right next to her who is white with fear.

While we were in the States, we went to Cedar Point, home of the largest roller coaster in the world. Being an Australian boy, I thought Dreamworld on the Gold Coast was something else. We've got nothing on the Americans. They don't just build them big, they build them to touch the sky. Check out this link to a rollercoaster called the Top Thrill Dragster. It's a ride where you get in a cart with a bunch of other people as mad as you, get shot out at 180 mph, go straight up 400ft, then corkscrew down 400ft. You've got to be mad. But I have been assured that next time we go to the States we will be going on it. The only thing saving me last time was the two hour wait to get on.

I think it's only fair that we watch more horror movies around here until that magic moment.