M#gan

It's time for me to update my blog. I'm sure many of you have been wondering where I've been. I'm sure because of all the comments I've received from my loyal fan(s)...right. I have plenty of blogs lined up so don't worry, I'll be back sooner next time...maybe...maybe not...probably not...nope...

For those of you who didn't know, WK was in town for a few or five weeks. That's where I've been...with WK. Seeing as she's my fiance and lover (I typed "lover"...and didn't forget to delete it), I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could before she went away again.

Every once in a while, I receive gifts from people. I rarely ask for people to get me anything (unless you're my parents - i.e. a car, violins, rent, food, an iPod, clothes, $, some money, everything else I own, etc.) or expect people to get me things and I try to appreciate whatever it is that's given to me...whatever it is. After all, it's the thought that counts...and for me that's absolutely true.

So...what is the relevance of the paragraph above?

While WK was in the U.S., she went to visit her brother for a few days. When she came back, I was surprised with a gift she had picked up in Salt Lake City. As I eagerly pulled tissue paper out of a bag, then a box out of the bag, then opened the box, I saw that it was a mug. I don't have many cups in my apartment. It's probably because I like glass cups and always end up breaking them (I have 3 out of a set of 4 wine glasses, 3 of 4 glass cups that I bought from IKEA, 2 of the 5 cups I bought at a garage sale and one of them has a crack in it, and the "CANADA, EH!" mug that someone got me is chipped and will probably only last another few weeks), so I was pretty happy about that. Then, I noticed that it was one of those souvenirs with your name on it and yelled "SWEEEET!!" in my head (I don't express emotions). I saw the 'M' and the 'gan,' which is the beginning of only two names that I can think of, one of them being Morgan, and get really excited (in my head). Upon closer inspection I noticed a few flowers - normal since Morgan is the name of many females - and then didn't see 'or,' but instead saw an 'e.'

'Megan'

Being named Morgan my whole life, (yes, all of it) I know, and all other Morgans know, that gift shops never have anything with 'Morgan' on it. The only names that begin with 'M' on souvenirs are Matt, Michael, Mary, Melissa, Margaret, Megan and maybe a few others I can't think of. There's never a Morgan license plate, bumper sticker, key chain, shot glass, spoon, etc. I've looked ever since I was little and have never seen Morgan...but I still have a little tiny bit of hope that some day I'll find it. Anyways, so WK could have been in a rush...if you see M#gan, you have a 50% chance that it's Morgan.

Whatever...I'm not blogging to complain about the name on the mug! Remember?! It's the thought that counts. I was happy that WK brought me something not because she never gets me anything, but because she thought to and wanted to get me something, something that she thought had my name on it. It's the fact that she thinks about me, because she cares about me, because she loves me,(and maybe the fact that I always ask, "So...what'd you get me?") that she wanted to and got me that mug. Wonkyung didn't have to buy me the mug. She doesn't have to buy me anything, ever. WK gives me everything that I need...

...her Love...

That's the greatest gift WK can give to me. Without it, anything money can buy is meaningless.

Love is the best gift anyone can give me. There are people who love me, even if I haven't seen them in a long time or will never see them again or have never seen them, and that love is what helps to keep me sane and content with my life...and I can never forget or take that for granted. It's that love I try return to anyone and everyone. Anyone and everyone who has touched my life, however brief our encounter(s) were or are...or even if they have yet to touch my life. I love all of my friends and family (maybe it's a bit different from then way I love WK or maybe it's that I'm not in love with my friends and family, but...love boils down to love) and you may not realize it but I'm constantly thinking about all the people in my life.

So what's my point?! What am I getting at?! What's with all the cheese?

Besides what I've been saying for the last 500 words...

Basically that love is the greatest gift that anyone can give me...so I try and am going to try harder to return that love to everyone

...?

ok...actually I won't be getting anyone birthday/Christmas/Hanukkah/etc. presents anymore...ever...not because I don't want to...but because I'm broke...and I was just trying to come up with a sappy way to tell you, yeah you, without really telling you...not that I've been giving anyone anything lately...lately I've been giving myself lots of things...whatever...I'm an ass...

Picture of the mug and a few other 'gifts' that were on my desk (bottle of smell-nice, key-chain, and a bee finger puppet on a bottle of glue)

Avi (part I) take II

Apparently my previous post didn't work so well so I re-did it.

Avi (part I)

One night, a few days ago, I called up my good friend, Avi, and told him that I wanted to document a day in his life and feature him on my blog. Knowing that I have close to a google-and-a-half fans who read my blog DAILY and seeing an opportunity to get his name and face out there, Avi accepted my proposition before I could shout "SEA COWS AREN'T COWS AT ALL...THEY'RE MANATEES." I had to get up early the next morning to take the train from Port Chester to Harlem so I fed my fish and went to bed.

Here's some Aviography:
- Avi has a name given to girls and boys...like all three of mine.
- Avi is not a girl.
- Avi's full name is Aviad Batter Guter.
- Avi has a brother and two parents.
- Avi handles peer pressure well.
- Avi has aviophobia (fear of himself...and by himself I mean flying)
- Avi can not read analog clocks/watches.
- Avi graduated from Ohio State and Cornell simultaneously.
- Avi holds the North American record for longest laugh - 89.56 seconds (world record is held by Yukio Shimamoto of Japan with a time of 102.08 seconds)
- Avi claims to be separated from Kevin Bacon by only two degrees.
- Avi is allergic to lettuce and grass.
- Avi has played chess against Bobby Fisher and won.
- Avi is unable to wink.
- Avi's IQ is 216.
- Avi's EQ is 24.

The following is the photo featurette of Avi's day on April 7, 2007 with bad pictures and captions...actually it wasn't the whole day...more like two or seven or eight hours...he would not give me permission to document his date with Lisa.

I met Avi in a coffee shop...he needed a pick-me-up so he got decaf

This is a picture of the coffee I got

Avi gave me some Easter presents

Avi wanted me to take note that he was always thinking of me and that he shaved his head in the morning

Time for Avi to set up his date with Lisa

Off to our next destination...

Avi got right to work...first learning about sploshing...

...then about oral pleasures...he learned many new ways in which he could impress Lisa

Avi had never seen this type of reciprocating saw so he wanted to give it a try

This nice albino man was more than happy to be in the picture with Avi

Avi got thirsty from all that learning and bought some water (blurry blob on left)

Avi is very skilled and adventurous...so running down steps BACKWARDS is hardly a challenge for him

Walking backwards almost made Avi late

Avi is a size 10

Avi and I battled to see who could open widest...I won

Back at his apartment, Avi spent an hour showing me how fast he could move his mouse...I was not impressed and decided to go home

Avi tried to kiss me...and I let him...it was ok, but it bothered me that he didn't close his eyes...he was impressed with my kissing ability

(if the pics are all messed up then fuck it...also, there was no kissing)

Don't do drugs.

9:01
woke up, went into bathroom, looked in mirror

I asked (myself):
"How are you?"

My response:
"I'm good...I feel pretty frickin' awesome when I see you...grrr..."

My response:
(pause) "...then I suppose I should ask...how were you? You know...before you saw me?"

My response:
"Oh, well...I was kind-of really tired and surprised that I didn't sleep through my several alarms and actually got out of bed instead of falling back asleep."

My response:
"Yeah...I'm impressed."

(end re-enactment...I don't know how to smoothly go from the voices in my head to my actual thoughts (yeah...they're different)...it's probably because I don't read books and don't write a lot...which is probably why I have bad grammar, have trouble thinking, use two many ellipses, never know witch 2 2 use and why I'm putting a lame explanation of what's going on in multiple parentheses...I actually don't think any of this is necessary, but the delete and backspace keys on my laptop have huge unbreakable crumbs stuck under them :-( so I just have to keep typing to explain the situation and you have too keep reading this...)

...

It has come to my attention that I asking someone...wait...that sounds weird...

It has come to my attention that Morgan Lee Kim ask-...not quite...

It has come to my attention that him...him who? ...hyuk! I hate myself..."it has come to my attention" blah blah

It has come to my attention that me asking someone "how are you?" is not appropriate for when I'm meeting and greeting them.

I'm pretty sure that when someone sees me for the first time in a while (or ever) that he/she is doing pretty frickin' awesome. I mean, come on...I'm pretty frickin' awesome...and if when I see me I feel pretty frickin' awesome, then the person who's seeing me ought to feel pretty frickin' awesome. Hence, for this reason, from this moment on (sort-of redundundant?...sorry, but bckspc & dlt bttns dn't wrk...and neither did any of my vowel keys for a second) I will no longer be asking "how are you" but rather "how were you?" And I will abso-frickin'-lutely be italicizing the tone of my voice when I say 'were.'

So...before reading this, how were you? And now? yup...I feel dumber to...and I two hate the word "frickin' "


DON'T DO DRUGS!

I am not that big of a racist

Two blogs in one day. I know exactly what you're thinking. You're thinking that I've become obsessed with blogging...within about two hours. Well, you're wrong.

Last night, I went to the Coldstone website to find the nearest Coldstone Creamery. To my luck, there's one in the town of Rye. I decided that I had to go. Today, for dinner, I went to the Coldstone Creamery in Rye and had the 'love it' strawberry shortcake serenade. The person serving me started scooping strawberry cheescake, I stopped her and asked, in my 'uh...you're scooping the wrong ice cream but I don't want to be an ice cream diva' voice, "is that strawberry shortcake?" knowing that the strawberry shortcake serenade was made with sweet cream ice cream, strawberries, shortcake and whipped cream. As I pointed to the sign behind her, which described what I wanted, another employee pointed out that I wanted what I was pointing at, the strawberry shortcake serenade made with sweet cream ice cream, strawberries, shortcake and whipped cream and my server responded, "oh, I thought you wanted strawberry cheesecake ice cream...because this (the strawberry cheesecake icecream) is labled strawberry shortcake..."

That...it is not. It was and still is clearly labled strawberry cheesecake, but I didn't say anything.

...

As I was driving into the town of Rye, I realized that this was where Wonkyung (my fiance) and I drove through when we first came to visit SUNY Purchase and got lost. It's a nice small town with nice little shops like the GAP, Papyrus (an overpriced, overly pink, fancy stationary store where I get cards and stuff to give to Wonkyung when I screw up), and various other local specialty shops. It became very clear to me that Rye is where the rich white people in my area hang out.

I live in Port Chester. Downtown Port Chester is a fairly cute(?) mecca with lots of little shops like Radioshack, Salvation Army, some dollar stores, and many really good restaurants. From what I can tell (by the hundred million Brazilian, Mexican, and other South American restaurants and citizens or aliens that inhabit the town) Port Chester is not where the white people hang out.

Let's make something very clear...I am not that big of a racist...I don't mind having to speak slowly, repeating "Marlboro menthol lights" a billion times when I go into a grocery store not called Stop & Shop, or having the receptionist at a garage say "que" when I call to ask when they close, or getting stared at because I'm white...I mean yellow. In fact, I enjoy living in a predominately latino community. I like trying to understand people as they converse in Spanish or Portugese (heavy on the 'trying'). I love Brazilian barbeques. I like guarana (thanks to Avi). And...I really like being the tallest person walking down the street.

Anyways...I guess my point is...

my blogs are suck and are all over the place...yes...I just said that my blogs are suck and I'm not going to fix it...

OK...here's my one-liner to end my blog that sort of makes reference to the things that I was talking about:

When I got home, I soon felt and smelled the effects of being a lactard...although it was probably the Brazilian BBQ that I had for lunch.

HoMo

It's been a long time since I last updated. I haven't forgotten about you. I still love you.

i'm weird...

OK...

My friend, Avi, whose page you probably saw before coming to mine, so cleverly states on the link to my blog page that I haven't updated in a bit. I'll be honest, I felt ashamed when I saw that...ashamed that I had let Avi and all the people who I pretend read my blog down. Ashamed that I would rather waste my time on facebook than waste my time blogging. OK...I may have just offended those who blog regularly and I'm sorry. I don't think blogging is a big waste of time. It just takes me a long time to type my blogs because I have no arms and am mute. If I have just offended any paraplegic mutes...I'm sorry. I was just trying to think of an excuse for why it takes me a ridiculously long time to blog. Alrighty...no more offending people...

OK...since I never know what to write about, last night I decided to look around. I checked out Avi's page...then Mike the Mix Master's page to take a peek at what he's all about. I scrolled down and saw something that I remember seeing a while ago. It was a picture of the HoboHookah. It caught my attention because I like hookahs and it was a picture of a home-made hookah with a Jagermeister bottle (you have to get your own bottle). I remember sitting there, the first time I saw this, a bit annoyed because I made a ghetto hookah several years ago...I made several...one was even with a jager bottle. I was annoyed because I was on the brink of something brilliant!!!...and I let it slip away. As I looked at the pic again, a huge sense of disappointment came over me. I could've been a thousandaire...or even a hundred-thousandaire...maybe even a googleaire. AUGH! FUCK! woops...can I swear?

I don't have a picture of the hookah's that I made, but I think Manoj still has the one I made him and the one I have is at home...in my parents garage...and hopefully they haven't found it...and if they did, I hope they didn't think it was a bong...because I don't want them to think less of me. Of course...the hookahs that I produced were much more "home-made" looking (aka wicked ghetto) and took me forever to make and may not have been as nice as the HoboHookah, but with some time I could have come up with something that worked, was prettier and didn't require drilling into glass for half an hour. I guess it all doesn't matter since my sis bought me a hookah in turkey and brought it home for me.

What I'm trying to say is, that I could have started HoboHookah if I had any drive and/or vision whatsoever. I also probably wouldn't have called it the HoboHookah. I'd keep the Ho, drop the Bo and add Mo (for Morgan) after the Ho.

Yeah...HoMoHookah. Sounds good.

Guess What World...

I'm engaged. Thanks, Wonkyung, for saying "yes." I love you...and the three people who will read this blog...but I love you the most.

Oh yeah...Wonkyung, thanks for having small hands.