Does Bleach Make Your Hair Fall Out?

Alright, so sue me...again. Again I failed to update my blog in a more timely manner than I would expect from myself, thus I assume that everyone else expects the same punctuality with my posts as I do. As such, you are all scheming to find ways to fly over here and burn me at the stake. Or, you are waiting silently to extract your revenge upon my return to your area. Either way, the future does not look bright for Steven James Danger Holcomb.

As I sit here with my pants unzipped as though I just finished the grandest Thanksgiving dinner man has ever known, I am contemplating how to tell you what I plan to disclose throughout the rest of the post. Don't let those butterflies get the better of you, it's really quite dull in comparison to whatever you're thinking. Let's begin where I last left you...on Friday.

I poorly chose Serpico to watch in the afternoon. The reason I say this is not because it was a bad movie (on the contrary, it was quite good), but because there was, again, boobies and an attempted rape scene. This is not a good thing to be watching on the big screen TV in an elementary school English classroom. Se la vie.

Friday night I experienced an experience I will probably not forget in the near future. I had my feet eaten by fish. You're imagining Moby Dick swallowing my legs just below the knee caps but, as with most things I leave you anticipating for a moment, this dulls in comparison greatly. You go into a "Dr. Fish" clinic where you pay 만원 and take off your shoes (and socks, silly). You sit at the edge of a small pool and look down into a pool of the smallest little carnivorous sharks you've ever seen. Minno size. Anchovy size. You think, hey, this won't be so bad. Then you nonchalantly stick your feet in. Immediately they swarm around your unsuspecting feet. Tens of them. Maybe even twenties. At first a little nibble. Hey, that tickles! Then the full onslaught. They go between your toes, the bottom of your feet, your ankles, your shins, your heels, that weird little callused part on my big toes. It tickles to the point where you can't have a normal conversation without giggling. You then realize that your feet are in there for the next half hour. Rain or shine. Fortunately, it gets easier. Either they lose interest in your cleaner feet or your feet become desensitized to little monsters of the deep blue chomping on them. "Why would you do this?" you ask. I'm glad you asked. After you get out and put your shoes back on, you're walking on silk. You could have nails in your socks (which I wouldn't recommend) and you'd feel like at least thirty bucks. I'm kind of exaggerating, but it's still kinda cool.

Saturday was inconsequential compared to Friday and Sunday, so it just gets an honorable mention. Good job, Saturday. I didn't have to go to school when you came around. I like you for that.

Sunday after a trip to Costco and a panoply of samples, we finally got to see Inception, much to my mother's disapproval. We had tried on four separate occasions to see it and it was either sold out or we doubted our ability to sit through it without peeing or vomiting and opted not to instead. But, finally it happened. Everyone had mentioned how utterly incredible the film was, that it either changed their lives or gave them the most perplexing thoughts/dreams on the following nights. Both of these appealed to me. I can't say that either scenario happened after watching it, but I can say that I was thoroughly entertained. I won't give any plot away, but I suddenly had the realization that I was in utter awe of this movie when I was watching a zero gravity fist fight take place in a hotel hallway. It reminded me of the first time I saw The Matrix. Now, let's not go into that movie, but it was the same type of epic movie. I can only hope they don't run a franchise train and stomp it into the ground. Inception 2: The Last Electric Boogaloo.

Currently it's Wednesday, and I have yet to update you on my summer camp goings on this week. This week I am at another elementary school teaching strange children I've never seen before. Based on the prerequisites for this camp (various lesson planning and seemingly detailed instructions), I, for some reason, assumed that this would be a big deal. Something I'd never experienced before. Something grand. On Monday morning I was proven gleefully wrong. It's not to say that I am disappointed or unhappy, but I just had to laugh when it revealed itself as everything else I've experienced in Korea. They try, they really do. Just like my school tried. But there are always some problems.

In the age of technology when every English teacher I know uses the computer for their lessons, I was told during the lesson that there was no computer in my classroom. I guess it's my fault for assuming that I'd have a computer. The result was me awkwardly singing for the students all class. They liked it, I suppose. I am a regular Frank Sinatra, after all.

The days have flown by, and slowly one of my temporary coteachers has revealed herself to be a complete whack job. There is no other way to describe her except bat shit. This could be exemplified by an anecdote from today. She was my coteacher for the "art" class I led. In said art class, I had the students make costumes for a role play using a scene from Toy Story. This meant we had to make Woody and Buzz Lightyear costumes. It also meant that I would be running around frantically helping students cut fabric, draw lines, staple things and paste things together. All while I'm doing this, she is either gone video recording the other native teacher's class (and leaving a non certified teacher alone in a classroom is illegal in Korea), or she was doing her own "art" project on the blackboard. She thought it would be more important to write in really fancy letters "Art Class" on the board for twenty minutes than to help me with the children. She even stopped me as I was running from group to group to ask me, "What would the students call a teacher in America?" She then proceeded to finish her art project by changing my name on the board from Steven to Mr. Holcomb.

This afternoon she categorized her desk. I also hear that she's quite the hoarder. Her car is full of random crap. She wants me to teach her to play the guitar...in one afternoon. She was inexplicably gone for two hours today and the entire day yesterday. I want to say I saw her picking up plastic bags on the side of the road after school. How do people like this keep a job?

Anyway, I have two more days of actual work (some with crazy lady), then I sit at a desk for a week and then it's VACATION!! My heart skips a beat whenever I think about it. Sorry for the long post and the obscure title. I tried washing some mold out of some white clothing today using a sink full of water and bleach with little success. I still did better than my washing machine would have. So booyah! Catch you on the flip side.