Drum roll, please… P is about to make a masterpiece.  Dun-dun-duuuuuuun!

So, for you who are following along at home, A has been taking a break from our Korean adventure for just over a week now, and I have been left (with a treasure trove of food) to fend for myself.  With what little time I have this morning before going back down the hill for work, I will try to paint the picture like A does.

By the way, just to add spice and a competitive edge, comments to this post will receive points based on wittiness, movie references, and any random comment making fun of Shaun. (At least if the post sucks, someone might get a laugh)

A left last Thursday morning.  I drove her in dramatic silence to the bus stop, tearfully put her on the bus, then chased after it as it pulled away sobbing until I tripped on a pot hole and broke my ankle.  Well, not quite, but she did get on a bus.  The rest of the day was a working day.  As a wise toddler once said, “Work, Daddy! Work!”  And let me tell you, Daddy has been working.

Anyway, getting back to our story, before she left A went to the grocery store and seriously bought enough food for an NFL offensive line to take an Antarctic expedition for a month.  So, with all the deliciousness in my fridge, what did geo-bachelor P have for dinner?  You guessed it, breakfast.  About a 1/2 pound of bacon, a roast beef and gouda omelette and a fat stack of flap jacks (and 1 pancake burnt to a crisp) later, I was rolling myself into bed to rest up for another day of getting paid.
Friday, after working for the weekend, and a bit creeped out by how quiet our apartment is without A around, I decided enough was enough.  My brain couldn’t soak up any more knowledge, so I put the books down and put on my Bocephus shirt: it was time to go to a country bar.  Where is the best place to go when you’re feeling blue, and your woman has left you (on vacation), and your dog is miles away?  As Garth Brooks, the poet, once said, Go join your American Honytonk Bar Association.  Luckily, we have one satellite branch of the AHBA in Seoul, and it is called the Grand Ole Opry.  We had heard of this bar before as a mythical transplant of country culture, where belt buckles and a hats are as big as Texas, and Jack and Coke is served by the bucket.  I’m here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, I have been to the top of the mountain and the view is as advertised.  Of course, by the “top of the mountain” I mean, the top of “Hooker Hill” and by “as advertised” I mean, they played country music all night, only stopping to play “God Bless America” and the “Star Spangled Banner” at Midnight while we all faced the flag.  It truly was an experience.

I’ll have to continue my update later because that old clock is yelling at me to GTFO!  So, I’m headed to work, but I’ll catch up the rest of the short and uneventful story this evening.

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