Sundae Nights, Soju Mornings (Sight of the Spark)

There are a few things that I never would have guessed that I would say in my life, most of which I could scarcely conceive of, except as an aftersight. One of which, being something that went a bit like this.
Random Turkey: (Talking some ill-mannered jive)

Hati: Hey, you can't talk that way to Sparkles. He practically built Bundang. [with 15% solemnity]

Sparkles: That's right. I did build Bundang. [with 1003% solemnity, and an imported beverage in his hand]

One of those days, esteemed readership, one of those days; or to rephrase -and this is to say nothing of the moment in which the Spark strapped on his jetpack and flew the fuck out of that drinking establishment- evenings.

What I'm trying to indicate, for those with actual reading comprehension skills, is that yes, in fact, I did catch up with the Sparkster himself. He's neither dead, nor incognito, but rather living the life of a wayward, and yet unflagging, juicer with a mission in tow.

Second on the agenda is sexuality. Whatever that guy may tell you (or someone that you know), he's not so adept at playing the 'homosexual card' when conscripted -constricted, per chance- by a member of the fairer sex. I'm not saying that Mr. Sparkles lacks the capacity to tell a fib, but white lies are like big game; just because you can take one down, doesn't mean that you can take them all.

Granted, I suppose that I wasn't playing ball entirely, but I couldn't sit back and let S. deny his inherent, heterosexual, manliness. On a sidenote, don't anyone try to go the 'You're a homophobic bastard' route on me, as it's not that at all. It's just when I'm bombarded by questions like 'You're his brother/cousin/father, is he really gay?' and I'm on the edge of blotto, I can only manage so much.

Speaking of the fairer sex -okay, not just yet- after an evening of drunken shenanigans, the two of us searched for a place to dine, and the only place that was open was a sundae joint. Rocking place, insomuch that they provided us with meat and nectar to assuage our weary souls. (Yeah, being a teacher in Korea is just tough, straight up.) After a bout of crapulence, the Spark posited a serious critique of my life, and I had attempted a reply to him on that particular morning, but was unable to do so.

Basically, Sparkles hypothesized that I wasn't the kind of guy to sustain a long-term relationship with a woman, or even that I would be capable of such a thing. Normally, I wouldn't touch upon such a sacrosanct topic of discussion, but given that Sparkles recently informed me that I had been entirely fooled by one of his posts (I'll give you a hint, in that his post related to basketball), I feel that I should divulge a dose of honesty -catharsis- to atone for my foolishness. For starters, he's mistaken. I've long held the candle for a particular super woman. In continuation, you can gather that originally I was prone to an obligatory, good natured 'You son a bit--yeah, that's true."

While I don't excel at the one night stand, I can pull off the occasional Bloc Partyesque Prayer when need be. That notwithstanding (and certainly not to my credit) I've never been much for relationships. Sooner or later, as Jack Burton would say, I rub everyone [read: women] the wrong way, but I'm okay with that. For the record, however, I did endure a three year, on-again-off-again relationship during college, and that ended in a satisfactory manner. I also did a seven month jaunt with a woman that wasn't official, and it was hop-around, wholesome fun that left me quite defunct in a few, compulsory, ways, but that was a long time ago. I wouldn't mind spitting on her pancreas, but then again, I should be spitting upon my own.

Long story short,

1) I'm a dick sometimes. Contrary to popular belief, however, none of the women I have dated would say that.
2) I'm not in a position to be speaking about long-term relationships.
3) Sundae is fucking good.
4) I forsee a Jack Daniels night sometime in the near future, you dig?
5) Craig Conroy rules!
6) Sparkles may be a juicer, but I call the Glitter Boy.

Hati