Psycho-dad

Hola amigos,
I know it's been awhile since I rapped at ya', but the B-man has been: 1. moving from one apartment to another 1 door down- moderately inconvenient as 1. I don't like moving and 2. it was 9:00 a.m. after a raucous night of thouroughly saturating my liver with alcohol- but the land-ejima (? sp.)- Korean for crazy old troll lady, insisted that 9:00 be the time that the move get done. Well, nothing like getting a jump on the day and the new digs are a bit sharper and more conducive to general galavanting about and being that I'm on the second floor now and there is a porch with a nice view of the side of a building 20 feet away; 2. working like a dog- kids are out of school in Korea during the month of January which means their parents need a babysitter for them and why not learn English at the same time which means English school; thus January intensives- a fiendish contrivance designed to skull fuck English down these kids' throats who would rather be enjoying their winter break and playing video games by Brian who would rather be enjoying their winter break and playing video games; 3. making sweet exploratory love to beautiful women at all hours of the day; 4. trying to upload pictures from my phone to cyberdiarrhea- no luck; 5. drinking to get drunk; 6. floating 300 km/h to a faraway coast town where I rode a Viking pirate ship until I almost puked and then dodged explosions on the beach. To explain: me and the crew went down to Busan by bullet train- which does a cool 300 km/h on magnets for real. It was great- nice weather good wholesome fresh air, beautiful scenery, I felt like I was on vacation- which is perfect because I try to live my life like I'm on vacation. At night after polishing down a bucket of chicken and some brews we hit the Viking amusement park ride- one of those ships that swings back and forth. It was a blast for the first minute, but then the sadistic carnie operator keeps it going, back and forth, back and forth, up and down, up and down like getting kicked in the balls, my stomach was up in my throat. Managed not to toss my cookies. Then a nice gentle stroll on the beach while people were launching fireworks all around Apocalypse Now style while they were going up the river looking for Colonel Brando.
The other night I was reminded of the genius of a man who rode the comedic camel straight down the throats of all whiny, spineless, apostate little bitches. A man who made it safe to put hands down pants. A man who sneered at your contempt. May he live on in an endless live studio audience ovation.