Month: October 2011

If there was ever a restaurant that demanded to be noticed

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

A long time ago, I was at a place that had free wi-fi, on the condition that you had to provide an email address.  I did, and I was apparently put on the Scoutmob mailing list, but seeing as how I do like the foods, I figured it doesn’t hurt to find out what gems there are in the city.

The other day, this restaurant was the joint of the day, to be offering 50% off with the code.  I shit you not, but this is the actual name of an establishment down here in Atlanta.  Boners BBQ.  If I had a sip of  a drink in my mouth when I saw the email headline, I probably would have snorted it up my sinuses, or spit it out outright.  I could not believe this.

I fancy myself somewhat savvy to good eateries in Atlanta, but this one has completely slipped underneath the radar.  What’s more impressive is the fact that they’re a block east from Turner Field, and I never once have heard about it until recently.  Sure, it’s in the same parking lot where T.I.’s little brother gets gunned down in the cheap blaxploitation flick ATL, but hey, gentrification has to start somewhere.

I must sample this place out now.  Furthermore, I demand that I get a t-shirt.  I’ll enjoy having it, but never wear it, much like my “Ride the S.L.U.T.” (South Lake Union Trolley (Seattle, Washington)) shirt.  I really hope that their food doesn’t suck, so I can competently suggest this place to friends and visitors.

The misery of others makes me happy

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Not going to lie, the best part about watching the deciding game between the Cardinals and Phillies is all the repeated shots of the crowd as the game got later and later, with but a diminutive 1-0 score, with people growing more and more concerned, and the superstitions came out, and the fans began to look more and more pathetically glum.  Rally caps, endless shots of people worriedly rubbing their hands, and numerous hair pulling.

But when the final outs were recorded, the practical montage of distressed and defeated fans were pure gold.  Children, adults, and the elderly all looking like they were all told that their families were killed.  All the face palming, people crying, and heads hung low.

The defeat of the Phillies made me feel happier, more than the failure of the Braves made me upset.  lol

Incredible

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When I was little, and growing up in the dairy farmlands of Harrisonburg, nobody in that hicksville had any idea what a Korean person was.  All through elementary school, people always gave me the “are you Chinese or Japanese?” schtick, like a real-life King of the Hill.  When I said no to both, most people were absolutely baffled, and had no idea of what possible alternatives there could be to Chinese or Japanese people.

A long while ago, I wrote about a how a kid in my neighborhood apparently thought I was Spanish, and said “hola” to me.  Throughout the last few months, this kid has seen me a few times during my morning jogs, and has said “hola” to me on all those instances.  Because I’m not Spanish, I do not respond ever.

Just the other night, while I was out on my evening jog, I ran by two little batarians, to which one of them said “hola” to me.  Seeing as how I was now right next to the kid, I finally said, “I’m not Spanish.  You don’t have to say ‘hola’ to me.“

Being in numbers often times creates a false sense of courage in kids, so the other kid laughed, and began motoring his mouth as I proceeded to leave them behind.  In the midst of my pulling away I heard “So what are you?  French?  Italian?  You speak Japanese?“

Wow.  Aside from being Spanish, I’m mistaken for a French person, or an Italian person, before even hitting the continent of Asia?  Man, these little black kids live in a sheltered world.  I’m actually surprised at how dumb these kids are going to grow up to be.

I blame the weeaboos

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Passing through downtown, I saw a restaurant that’s going to be opening soon.  The name of the restaurant literally means “mom” in Korean (not pictured above).  So obviously, this is going to be a Korean restaurant.

“Korean / Japanese Restaurant”

Okay, this shit pisses me off.  Everyone knows that this restaurant is going to be 95% (probably poorly made) Korean food, but have a guy on site to cut raw fish and pass it off as sushi.  Why pretty much every Korean restaurant in the United States needs to add the slash-Japanese to their description is purely beyond me, and it agitates the fuck out of me.

Korean food is fucking awesome.  Korean barbecue is better than Japanese hibachi any day of the week and fifty times on Sunday.  Korean soups and stews are hearty and satisfying, while the Japanese renditions of such are watery and minimalist.  Japanese food is hipster feed.  Korean food is soul food.  Good food.

Fuck Japanese food.  Why Korean restaurants denigrate themselves by feeling the necessity to add Japanese to their description is completely beyond me, but if I can help it, I won’t ever eat at any Korean / Japanese restaurants.  I’m proud of my Korean heritage, and I wish the people that ran these fucking restaurants would be proud of theirs too, to where they’d be proud to serve Korean food to people of other races with confidence and pride, and without the veiled deception that adding loosely Japanese items would draw them in instead.

I blame weeaboos, and anyone who watched Lost in Translation and thinks everything is better if it’s Japanese for creating this stigma that Japanese shit is so great.  It pains me to see Korean restaurateurs feel the need to add / Japanese to their names thinking it would enhance their business.  If I ever opened a Korean restaurant, I would proudly declare it as such.  I would give it a Romanized name based off of an appropriate Korean word, but underneath it would say “FUCKING KOREAN FOOD RESTAURANT.”  And if any weeaboos or any similar noobs enter my establishment and try to order a fucking bento box or yakisoba, I’ll kick them the fuck out, and dispute the shit out of their one-star Yelps.

Korean food is the best food in all of Asia.  The sooner people realize this, the better off the world will be.

Photos: Ruis and Jen’s Wedding

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Several years of cranberry juice threats and heartfelt chats come to an end on October 2nd of 2011, when my boy Ruis finally nails his shit down, and gets married.  And what we have here is some photographic evidence of Ruis and Jen’s wedding, in which I had the dubious honor of being one of Ruis’s groomsmen.

A joyous occasion that felt like it went by entirely too fast, but full of happiness and a good memory of a special day.  As is the case with many weddings, it’s always a treat to see old familiar faces looking all dapper and polished, while we joke about the same nerdy crap and bring the level of class down one slow tier at a time.

God damn, I have to get me more of that Woodchuck seasonal fall cider.

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