Heres' the face Babyseyo made today when I kissed him on the cheek.
and you thought my blog would get cuter now that I had a baby.
But here's the reason for the title of this post: See those red dots?
No, he's not getting acne 13 years early. Those are mosquito bites, on my little baby's face. Wifeoseyo was muttering about 나쁜 모기 all morning that day. Mosquitoes are evil, friends. I am convinced that they were the first thing to come out of Pandora's box, that the first mosquito eggs dropped into a bit of stagnant water after Eve ate the forbidden fruit. And while it's wrong and cruel to kill some, perhaps many critters, I am convinced that mosquitoes exist outside of karma, and you're allowed to kill them without coming back as one in your next life.
The Dalai Lama told me so in a text message.
After spending a morning chasing a mosquito like Bill Murray and his gopher in Caddyshack, here's what I did:
I went to the old-style market nearest my house, and found the most cluttered-looking houseware shop -- the kind of place where you can buy dozens of containers and lids that don't match with any other container in your whole house.
Drew a picture of it, and got one of these.
Since then, I've been chasing mosquitoes around the house, swinging my magic battery operated bug zapper like Rafael Nadal, plus murder, and killing mosquitoes has never been so easy, or so fun. That electric crack when you know you got one? So, so, so satisfying.
4000 won without batteries. 6000 won with, and hours of useful fun.
Turns out burnt mosquitoes smell like burnt hair. Who knew.