I’m Not An Addict

Really, I’m not.  It’s just a little…infatuation.  Harmless.

Oh, who am I kidding?  I LOVE YOU, KIMCHI FRIED RICE.  Screw the rest of the world!  Let’s run away together and shack up on a beach in Goa and spend our days together in  spicy-rice-y-onion-y-cabbage-y bliss!  Of course, this might not be as pleasant for you, since you’re getting eaten and digested every day…  I didn’t say this would be a perfect plan.

In case you can’t tell, I went back to Super H Mart for lunch today and for another helping of their kimchi fried rice.  It’s — in my estimation, at least — the perfect fast food.  You get rice, onions, chunks of thick bacon and cabbage all in a spicy sauce with a fried egg on top.  And it’s served with a side of extra cabbage!  And pickled radish!  And a bowl of onion broth!  What more could you possiby want out of a meal?  NOTHING, I tell you.  NOTHING.

In addition to being the crack dealer to my addiction, Super H Mart also provides an almost endless amount of entertainment while you’re there.  Exhibit 1: as I was pulling into the parking lot, I realized that my way was blocked by a shopping cart.  I put the car in park and got out to move the shopping cart out of the way.

As soon as I got back into my car, I was immediately blocked by another random object in the road: Exhibit 1A: a stroller.  Complete with baby.  A woman had pushed the stroller halfway into the street, then turned around to greet a friend.  The two of them were happily chatting away on the curb while the stroller (COMPLETE WITH BABY!!!) sat in the middle of the street, unattended.

Being the kind soul that I am, I did what any other thoughtful person would do in this situation.  I rolled down my window and yelled at the idiot woman to get her damn baby.  She shot me a surprised look and hustled into the street to remove her baby from the middle of the road.  Hey, at least I didn’t honk.

Exhibit 2: as I eagerly awaited my lunch in the food court, I witnessed two little old Korean ladies getting yelled at by another little old Korean lady because they had left their used trays and dishes on the table.  The best part?  The one doing the yelling was an employee.  Gotta love stores where the employees clearly just don’t have time for customers’ BS and totally call them on it, loudly.

Later, after grabbing some cans of green tea for the road, I passed the Pocky display.  Poor choice of exit route.  I can’t pass Pocky displays (or Pepero displays) without grabbing at least one box.  I stood in front of it, happily agog at the many kinds of Pocky for sale.  I couldn’t choose which box to get.  But then…I found it.

Exhibit 3: Men’s Pocky.  What?  Is this a marketing gimmick like the ones that Yorkie bars use?  Either way, I felt compelled to buy a box of Men’s Pocky and condemn the sexist Japanese candy-making regime with my act of defiance.

It turns out that Men’s Pocky is quite boring, and not at all the manly type of candy I expected (you know, tasting of, like, gunpowder and whiskey and Old Spice with bits of dead deer stuck to it).  It’s just bitter chocolate.  I should have stuck to my original plan and gotten some delicious Marble Tea Pocky.  This feminism thing isn’t getting me anywhere…

Regardless, I’ll most likely be back at Super H Mart the first chance I get, babies in strollers blocking the road and sexist Pocky be damned!  I WILL HAVE MY KIMCHI FRIED RICE.