Muscle memory and chauvinism on a Saturday afternoon.

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“Even if she is a killer, she’s still a woman.  She’ll come around.”

Quote of the weekend from the Korean horror film, BlackHouse.  This film was intended to be background noise to naps in the DVD bang after a day of open air market in Nampo-dong, patio beer at the touristy of tourist restaurants, and freshly severed, still wiggling octopus tentacles with potential to murder us more brutally than the woman in the film.  Yet my feeble sleep attempt in the DVD bang was in vain; this film was far too wonderfully terrible to allow my eyes to part with the subtitles.

“Even if she is a killer, she’s still a woman.  She’ll come around.”

Quote of the weekend from the Korean horror film, BlackHouse.  This film was intended to be background noise to naps in the DVD bang after a day of open air market in Nampo-dong, patio beer at the touristy of tourist restaurants, and freshly severed, still wiggling octopus tentacles with potential to murder us more brutally than the woman in the film.  Yet my feeble sleep attempt in the DVD bang was in vain; this film was far too wonderfully terrible to allow my eyes to part with the subtitles.

As for the octopus.  This was terrifying… the poor fellow was just swimming around in its shallow deathbed upon our arrival in search of a thrill.  He was hand plucked from the tank and swiftly met his demise under the blade of a knife immediately preceding presentation alongside dipping sauce and soju.  They say octopus’ are very smart creatures; strolling through fish markets you begin to notice that each shallow octopus tank has its own octopus babysitter continually blocking escape attempts, shoving the poor bastard back into the water each time its arms drape over the side to try to make a run for it.  Pretty morbid.  Ingesting wiggling, severed octopus appendages now has a big, red checkmark next to it on my official Korean To-do List.



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