Ah, the saga of Roy. I should write a book with all my inane drivel ... and then officially call myself "published author" Roy Kim. Har har. Today's saga involves me waking up at 230PM after a night of debauchery (and by debauchery I mean, of course, working on the new Tabulas front page). My stomach is unusually hungry (I don't normally like to eat after I wake up), but my mind manages to control my stomach by telling it, "Wait, and we'll have something better than the cup ramen." So I do a bit of touch-up work on Tabulas, then head out around 330PM. I don't care where I eat, as long as it's not KFC or Burger King (maybe I'm getting old, but those foods are starting to taste like sh'it whenever I eat from there now...). In any case, I head over to the Soondooboo (tofu) place ... and there's a sign saying they are closed today. So I walk another 10 minutes to my favorite jjajjamyun place, and they are closed. Everywhere I walk, there are signs saying that the restaurants are closed. (Did I miss some national holiday today?!?!?!?!?!) Briefly my stomach overrides my mind and makes the suggestion, "Hey, take the 20 minute bus ride to Mokdong (where I work) where we can get chamchi kimchi bbap (tuna and kimchi mixed with rice served hot)!" My mind temporarily accedes to the demand and I walk over to the bus stop (another 10 minutes from where I was previously). Then my mind exclaims, "WTF you are NOT going 40 minutes round trip just to get food, eat here you idiot!" So I begin wandering around for food. I can't decide where to eat. Have you heard of the philosophical question where two bowls of food are placed equidistant from a dog ... does the dog die because he can't decide which one to eat or does he arbitrarily choose one? Well, I'm about to prove the former. I decide that since I will be working 8 hours a day from Monday - Thursday, it might be a nice idea to get a hair cut. So although I haven't eaten, and my stomach is complaining quite loudly, I decide to get a hair cut before they close ... So I go back to the hair cuttery (which is by the jjajjamyun place), and I walk in (with that confused deer-in-the-headlight look) ... not entirely knowing what to expect. Sweet! There's an open seat. A rather stylish young man beckons me to sit down at his chair. There are a few people waiting, but no one seems to be taking the seat. I shrug, and sit down. He asks, "How do you want it cut?" I say, "Short, please." He mumbles some question and I agree (I figure it's not too important). Only later do I found out he mumbled, "Do you want a sports cut?" Apparently "sports cut" is synonymous with "dorky hair cut." The first warning sign comes when I realize he's been using the electric razor for farrrr too long when cutting the back part of my hair. Then the sides. I can begin to feel the breeze above my ears. Not good. So I didn't even get to think about where I was going to eat ... I was so worried about what this guy was doing. (By the way, I am really blind without my glasses, so I couldn't really see what he was doing) In the end, I got the dorkiest hair cut ever. I'm not a very good looking character, so a bad haircut amplifies my dashingly bad looks a hundred-fold. And guess what? My mind, realizing that it was stupid to go sit down at the barber who NO ONE WAS SITTING DOWN AT, gave in to my stomach and I ended up just eating at Burger King, which was horrible. I threw away half my food. So 2 hours later, what should of been at a maximum a 30 minute task ended with a half-filled stomach and a bad haircut. I blame all the restaurants for closing.