The Darndest Things That Happen To Me By ReveDuJour  [17 more lists]

8/13/2010

So today was a fine outing with Brenda.

We went to a really good Korean restaurant called So Dong Kang in K-town--soondubu house that's supposedly better than BCD. It's in this plaza, hidden in a corner. It was kind of packed and had a homey vibe. Felt comforting to be spoken to in Korean despite the fact that I don't understand a word.

We ordered two tofu soondubu and beef bulgogi. I got very spicy and seafood, while Brenda got plain and beef, pork, and seafood.

Raw crab was good. It was Brenda's first time!

The only disappointment was the porridge thing at the end. The rice was soggy instead of crispy. No, no. :(

We both ended up paying $19 for the meal.

After dinner, we decided to walk the MSG off. We see a place with people called 700 Billiards (or something like that) and I exclaimed, "Oh pool! Wanna play?" We scrammed across the street to the other plaza it was in and went up the stairs, only to find that the poolhouse was filled entirely of men. Old Korean men smoking cigarettes to be exact. They all paused to look at us maybe because we are non-smoking young Chinese women. The manager walks over to us and I signal, "Two players." He asks which table. We go with the one in the back of the room. Then he asks the question that would spark the beginning of a lot of confusion. "Three balls or Four balls?" I think about it, and then reasonably assume he's mistaken the word "balls" for "holes," how cute. "Four," I politely say. Because, you know, there are four corners in a table and each one has a hole? I assumed he also forgot about the other holes on the sides.

Well, the guy puts four balls on the table, to which I then observe and shout whisper to Brenda, "Where are the damn holes?!" You see, this pool table did not have pockets! What???

Crazzy stuff.

I look around, and NONE of the pool tables have pockets.

A MUTATION!! RUN!!!

I turn to the manager and say, "I'm sorry, where are the holes?" Yes, I continue calling them holes through the rest of our entire conversation. Dark, round empty space kind of says that to me.

Anyway, the man is confused. I'm confused. Brenda is confused. The whole ROOM is confused and now all of a sudden old korean men smoking cigarettes are approaching us from all sides, everywhere. Kind of like zombies, but more foreign. Some speak Korean, some muddled English. All consult each other on what to do with a thing like us. Eventually, they just point us to another plaza. That place has holes. We leave, relieved that they at least acknowledge their own lack of holes and the holes in other poolhouses.

Yes, I'm STILL calling them holes.

Anyway, when me and Brenda got back to her apartment later, we did some research, and got to the bottom of it. Turns out, there IS a kind of billiard sport that's played on a pocketless table. Carom Billiards! Wtf, since when?!

Wikipedia says since the 1700s (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carom_billiards).

Oh.

Anyways, after 700 (seconds of humiliation), me and Brenda decide to do something we both DO know exists, and that's grocery shopping.

I have found a new love: Asian supermarkets. I always thought they were dirty and disheveled while in the San Gabriel Valley and stuff, but I now find them distinct and interesting. And CHEAP! They had Sweet Red Corn, 4 for $0.99! I would have so bought them if they weren't so red. I mean, the kernels are RED. I saw because I peeled the skin of one open after I read the sign that said, "Please no peeling." That sign is there for a reason: they (the governing powers of supermarketdom) are hiding something from us, and we must retaliate.

Brenda and I just had a dandy time in the market. I think we went down every aisle looking and commenting on the different variations of Korean this and that that they had over there. Oh and we had a mini photoshoot where we posed with the nifty blue wagons that we found so amazing and convenient to use. That, my friends, will never be seen.

When we finally got back to the original plaza where we ate dinner, the parking guy approached us yelling something about how my car was going to get towed. We didn't really understand him, so we left apologizing and profusely nodding in agreement to the disastrous circumstance I'm in. Problem solved.

And THAT was the eventful night I had with Brenda in K-to-the-izz-Town.