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Though it might seem a bit strange, I LOVE that 19-year-old Rhiannon Brooksbank–Jones, a UK student, got her slightly-shorter-than-average tongue lengthened–in a parent-approved, 15-minute elective lingual frenectomy.
All so that she could speak Korean without sounding “foreign.”
From the Telegraph UK:
“I’d been learning Korean for about two years, and my speaking level was high, but I was really struggling with particular sounds,” she said.
It became apparent after a little while that I was having trouble with the Korean letter ‘L’, which is very frequent and comes from a slightly higher place in the mouth than the English ‘L’, and that my tongue was too short.
Koreaphiles come in all shapes, sizes, and levels of commitment, but Brooksbank-Jones clearly knows that, err, bullshit walks and surgery talks. (Wait, what?) Or that getting freaky with Korean girls all through college does not a Korean expert make. Or that Korean culture is not *just* about imbibing copious amounts of Hite beer, KBBQ, TV dramas and sexy/angry/pretty men (Or is it?).
What I mean is, though she’s studied the language for two years, plans to major in Korean at University, and dreams of living in her beloved Asian country as an adult, she knows that real Koreans won’t pay her any mind unless she speaks like a native. And she did what it takes to speak like a native (in this case, that meant a small incision in the flap connecting her tongue and mouth floor). This chick is so not fucking around!
But just a quick aside: I had no idea that lingual frenectomies were so easy-peasy. To think that a simple snip could help someone speak an entirely different language? It has me wondering if a quick tongue-lengthening might help one speak all kinds of other languages… perhaps even the language of love? And by “language of love,” I mean YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
I love meat. I’m an unrepentant carnivore. I know I’ve extolled the virtues of pork time and again, but what I really want to eat every single day is a bloody steak. And often I do. Which means I’ll probably die one day in the not so distant future of a heart attack. But I’ll die happy, sated, and oblivious to any notion of deprivasian, so fuck if I care, unless the vodka martini I’ve ordered with that death steak is only half-consumed by the time I keel over.
Burger King, I shit you not, has come out with a cologne called “Flame,” described as the “scent of seduction, with a hint of flame-broiled meat.” I know I should like this, I really should. But the thing is, I don’t like it when people smell like meat (a little salty meat-sweat, like the way you smell after you’ve been stuffing your face at the ballpark, is okay). It reminds me of our own fleshy-ness, and my mind drifts to cannibalism and mortality, two unappetizing thoughts. Just last night, Diana and I were trying to figure out where we were going to have Korean BBQ, and it was a toss-up between two of our favorite haunts. Ultimately, we picked the place where we wouldn’t emerge smelling like charred human meat.
Furthermore, cologne is designed, apart from its purpose to mask B.O., to get people to fuck you. But I don’t want to literally fuck a piece of meat, although I won’t judge you if you do (okay, I will a little). I want that kind of meat to smell like cheap soap and laundry detergent, in that order, and then have my bloody steak after, when I’m done with it.
Beef up here, at the official Burger King “Flame” website.
Diana and I frequently discuss how little we report on Vietnam, Diana’s mother ship. But thanks to our New York correspondent Greenie, who sent us a story yesterday about Vietnam returning weapons-grade uranium to Russia under an anti-terrorism agreement between the U.S. and Russia, we had a sizzlin’ coversation about it over Korean BBQ last night.
DIANA: What? What about Vietnam?
JEN: They had weapons-grade uranium, man. Nuke-a-lar capability, yo. They had to give it back.
DIANA: Well, I mean…maybe they needed it.
JEN: For what?
DIANA: I dunno. Dude, why are you all up in Vietnam’s steez? They gave it back, for chrissakes.
JEN: You’re right. You’re absolutely right.
And it’s true, Vietnam, with whom the U.S. has only had diplomatic relations since 1995, did give back the uranium. But what I’m confused by is why they gave it to Russia. Aren’t they our renewed enemy, along with MY mother ship, China?