The birthday party

In the summer between 3rd and 4th grade, my mother and a girl’s mother thought it was a fantastic idea to save money by having 1 party for the 2 of us. Of the 3 민주s (MinJoo) in my class, the annoying 손민주 aka 손만두 (mandoo) had to share the same birthday as me. Kids being kids, we had stupid nicknames for each other, often involving food. One of my earlier nicknames was 양파링 (think funyuns but Korean). My peers liked her because she was pretty, but I knew her well enough to know what I was being forced into. It felt like planning a royal wedding. At the demand of someone with 공주병 (princess sickness), I was forced to sift through a long list of invitees, design a seating chart, create personalized invitations, and help pick out a cake. She didn’t want to invite most of my close friends because they weren’t popular. Instead of arguing, I bode my time after coming up with a brilliant (but terribly mean) plan to get back at her.

The party was held at her place, and I was mesmerized by the venue. Instead of your standard apartment, she had a traditional Korean house with a modern twist in a condominium complex. What was more impressive was that she had a dog! Eventually, I got bored of playing with the dog and proceeded with the plan. When 민주’s mother brought out the cake, I snuck up behind her and shoved her head into the white, fruit cake. It was rather impressive how the kiwi and strawberry pieces symmetrically got stuck on her face. Not only did I ruin the cake, but I also made 민주 cry and recede into her room. Needless to say, I (along with a few of my friends) got kicked out of my own party by the 손 family. After leaving the wailing princess’s palace, we went to a nearby 포장마차 to eat 오뎅, and I got my ass kicked by my mother when I got home. I preferred shitty street food to fancy, rich food anyways. I can’t have pissed 민주 off that much, because this is what she wrote in a letter to me. I’ll try to add these as the people pop up.20170521_013730

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