my feet hurt.

My roommate hates how Korean girls make their boyfriends carry their bags and umbrellas. She thinks they look fruity. I don’t have strong feelings on the subject, but it is rather amusing to see a grown man with a clutch purse in his armpit. In the context of Korean girls I appear oafish and fat. I take some comfort in the fact that they occasionally wear expletives on their clothing without realizing it. My favorite t-shirts that I saw today: “Made in America by Europeans” and “I have great parts.”

I walked to Myong-dong sort of on a whim to buy a clutch purse because my current wardrobe has a dearth of usable pockets, but bought a digital watch instead that has a puppy dog blinking in time with the seconds.

On the way back I went through an outdoor food market, and was too busy wondering what you’re supposed to do with thorny sticks and purple cabbage that I didn’t realize I had ended upon a different street than I came down on. By the time it occured to me to hail a cab, I figured I was probably five minutes from campus and ten minutes after that it was like, ‘well now I must really be close’ and forty five minutes after that it was like ‘how did I end up walking back to campus in the same direction that I left it from?’

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