A Seoul-ful Birthday? Too Cliché?

Ah, who cares. I'm full of cliche. I got enough cliche to curb Rosie O'Donnell's apetite. Is she even relevant anymore? I haven't heard anything about her in years, but she's the only acceptable fat lady I can think of. My material is starting to feel dated. Maybe I should watch more Jersey Shore.

Anyway, I had a triple birthday party in Seoul this weekend. So, four of us got a family pack (which equates to a four person table seat for almost half the price of four regular tickets) on the KTX and made the two hour trek from Daegu to Seoul Station. We headed out to Guri, a Seoul suburb, to meet some friends.

I want to pause here for a second to explain to you that I am using the word "suburb" pretty loosely, yet more directly here. Literally, from the Latin "close to a city," my use of suburb is just that: Guri is close to Seoul. When you think of suburbs, you think of sleepy neighborhoods with large houses and big lawns and maybe people walking dogs and lots of SUVs and clowns at birthday parties and a magical Disney-like atmosphere where everyone goes to college and gets married with the 2.5 kids. Well, that may be the way you guys do it in America, but suburbs in Korea are just a little different. Imagine Times Square. Now imagine that none of the buildings in Times Square are taller than 5 or 6 stories and there are food stands everywhere...and everyone is speaking Korean. At 11 PM you still see kids in school uniforms laughing in the street, playing Girl Fighter. You probably see a drunk businessman somewhere neglecting his family for a bottle of soju. You see poorly made shacks, remnants of the pre-1980s boom that made Korea the electronics powerhouse that it is today, sprinkled among the neon lights. That's a Korean suburb. Honestly, I'm exaggerating in some aspects because there are suburbs that more closely resemble the former American description, but the one we were in (and most others I can think of) more closely resembled Times Square. Maybe more like an alley offshoot of Times Square. Maybe I'm desensitized to flashing lights and I don't even notice how prominent they are or aren't anymore. I remember there was a McDonald's at least.

So. Saturday. The big day. The big day for the party. The party that was supposed to be held in a park with a barbeque and lots of people. Well, thanks to George Burns, it rained that day. We went to the World Cup Stadium anyway (as that is where the park was) to chiggidy check the situation. What we found was a stadium with a mall in it and a clearance tent with unbeatable prices!!!!!!!!

What caught our eye was a rack of suits for 49,000원. That's like $42. For a suit that was originally about $250. We couldn't pass it up. Check these two P.I.M.P.s out:
Even matching umbrellas (ella, ella, eh, eh, eh, under my umbrell--*gunshot*). They're pretty shiny suits, aren't they? I like that, for some unknown reason. Anyway, we did no park barbequeing due to the rain, but by the time the party rolled around, we were dressed to impress. Everything happens for a reason, right?

The party itself was wholly a success. A friend had managed to reserve a whole bar for us to throw down, and throw down we did. We filled that place up.
The preceding picture is from when the owner got "iced." For those of you over 30, "icing" is an international marketing phenomenon pulled off pretty brilliantly by Smirnoff Ice, designed to appeal to the "bro" crowd. Basically, your bro pulls up in your line of sight with a Smirnoff Ice. Being completely taken by surprise at your friend's taste in girly beers, you must take the Smirnoff Ice, drop to one knee, and consume the entire contents of the bottle, thus redeeming his manhood and showcasing yours. What a world when something this silly reaches even Korea.

Speaking of silly things reaching Korea, I received my first package from a friend today. It was either from Kristen Adams or someone brilliantly posing as her. Her thoughtfulness will not be forgotten and it really warmed my heart that I still have friends back home who care enough about me to send a package 9,000 miles away--through the warm, inviting international waters of the Pacific, through the frozen tundra of Russian Siberia, through the posed AK-47s of Pakistani Taliban checkpoints, through a chief's blessing from the cannibalistic tribes of New Guinea, through the gap in David Letterman's teeth, through Somalian pirates, through a wicker cradle wafting down the Nile being pursued diligently by ravenous wildebeasts, through the alleyways of aggressive Indian beggars, through an endless desert of broken glass in the Australian outback, through a volcano in Iceland that houses carniverous dinosaurs and is yet still very active and erupting, and through at least an hour of Kathy Griffin's stand-up. From the bottom of my heart to the bottom of yours: thank you. This Bud's for you.

But I hope you don't think for a second I waited the two days for my birthday before opening it. It's already open and the contents halfway consumed. Sorry for partying.