Church on Time

When the erstwhile Kmart and I get together on weekends, our topics of conversation are pretty much limited to what you, Constant Retard, read (daily) on this hallowed blog: movies, music, fiction, women, booze, video games, and food. Regrettably, that last topic is one rarely broached on Psychedelic Kimchi, because, boy, do we love talking about food*. Seeing as how I'm not a gourmand, though, I find myself at a disadvantage when it comes to describing tasty shit. I am simply bereft of adjectives. A filet mignon is "fucking awesome" in my books, but that same compliment could be paid to a Burger King bacon-double cheeseburger. Raw squid freshly caught and presented to my table at a 횟집 on the east coast elicits the same praise I'd give a french fry-encrusted corn dog bought from a street stall in Seoul: "killer!" I'd like to think I'm a talented writer and well-spoken individual, but when it comes to describing cuisine I lose my eloquence.

Case in point: this past Sunday Kmart and I had dinner and drinks at one of the legion beer halls here in the mighty 'burb of Bundang, and our meal, 통삼겹 김치찜, was, as you might expect, fucking awesome. It honestly was one of the most sublimely delicious dishes I've ever had the pleasure of eating, yet when I try to explain exactly why it was so amazing I feel like I'm an eight-year-old girl telling her friends that the new Miley Cyrus album sosososo rocks (^^). I cannot write about food. I just can't. It's one of those things I guess I'll have to deal with, like being a basketball player with Tourette's syndrome or a blind porn star.

Still, like David Bowie, I try, especially when I'm confronted with a snack food that puts my trust back in God and man. A few weeks ago Kmart

(beat me at Mario Kart DS)

asked me if I'd ever had Flamin' Hot Cheetos, and I wasn't positive I had. I thought I'd eaten some sort of hot/spicy/BBQ-flavored Cheetos at some point in my life, but I couldn't say for sure, which is evidence now that I'd never had FHC; because, if I had, I damn sure would have remembered it.

Fast forward to the more recent past, last Saturday. After dinner in Jeongja, Legs suggested I stop by 'I Love Cookie' for necessities (read: deodorant and man-size condoms), and when we got there it clicked. Outside of the shop were bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, visually recognizable but memorically** elusive, like that hooker you slept with and saw shopping near Gangnam Station. Since they were only 6,000 won per bag (roughly $6 US), I bought only one.

I should have bought the store's entire stock, price be damned.

Because, and here's one hell of an endorsement, Flamin' Hot Cheetos are, in three words, REALLY FUCKING AWESOME. Frito Lay reinvented the wheel. FHC are the alpha and the omega of snack foods. Flamin' Hot Cheetos make me want to be a better man -- a better man who eats Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Morning, noon, night.

Life's checklist, fucking awesomely amended.




* Usually, in in my own case, more than I enjoy actually eating it. The same can be said for Kmart vis a vis women, I suppose (oh yes I did!).

** Daddy just made up a new word!