In Which Our Hero Requires Aid


Dearest compatriots,

I do not often write to you directly in this manner, for I feel it lowly of me to beseech you in such a fashion, but we have arrived at a time of need.

I know many of you hunger to assist me in any manner possible. Through many long nights you have sat awake at your windowsill, looking out onto the dark landscape with longing. Your thoughts were troubled, your heart heavy. You glanced back at your commemorative Stupid Ugly Foreigner shrine that you built in my honour. You clutched your handmade SUF t-shirt close to your heart. There was still a sting on your lower back from where you had your freshest SUF tattoo recently inked. But still you yearned. You wanted to do more for Stupid Ugly Foreigner, the man. Sending him disturbing nude portraits and locks of your hair just didn’t seem enough anymore.

Fear not, gentle reader. I bring you the opportunity you have waited for. For now is the time I sound the clarion, when I too sit at the sill and hope that somewhere, out there, my champions await.

The Big Blog Exchange. Hostelling International has opened a contest on the internet. Writers from around the world enter, call upon their devoted and ravenous fans to vote for them, and move up in the rankings. Those chosen few who vanquish others in their region have a chance of being selected to exchange blogs and lives with one of the other winners from Anywhere in the World. They fly these writers around the globe, put them up, feed them, and furnish them with all sort of zany hi jinx in which to engage. The only catch is: they must write about this experience.

Writing, you say? I have some experience with that.

And so, I throw myself before you, dear chums. Click on that glittering wonderbutton at the top of this post, or the one permanently and garishly lodged into my sidebar. Vote for Stupid Ugly Foreigner (and confirm via your email), then come back here and receive words of praise and adulation from the cult of SUF and perhaps even the thanks of the suave, Svengali-like master of this group.

Vote Stupid Ugly Foreigner in the Big Blog Exchange. It’s like democracy, except better.

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33 thoughts on “In Which Our Hero Requires Aid

  1. Additionally: I know some of you out there might fit the bill for this contest, so look into it and maybe enter it yourselves! It’s a really cool contest.

    Unless you are from my region and thus form my competition, in which case, I will crush you and burn your city to ashes.

      • Alright then, Sir Confidence, I challenge you. For every smirk of delight (mine) you achieve through wit (yours) under this comment in the next twenty-four hours, I will promote your cause from the rooftops (facebook) of the internet.

        • An American in Asia: Oh please vote for him so that he can continue his Blog in new and wonderful places! Pay no attention to the fact that I am his Uncle!

        • What sort of convincing do you require? Knock-knock jokery? Tomfoolery of a slapstick nature? Modern clown arts? Some sort of po-mo performance piece involving elephants and acrobatic Romanians? A graphic The Aristocrats joke?

          I will do what it takes, so long as what it takes involves typing things into my computer, which is generally what I was planning on doing anyway.

          • Though I am greatly intrigued at the prospect of a po-mo performace piece involving elephants and acrobatic Romanians as conducted entirely through typing, I figure we had better stick with jokes of the non Aristocrat variety. I shall be liberal with my humor for the sake of your uncle, but still hold you to the standard that you have placed upon yourself by your rather consistently witty and and intelligent bloggery.

            • I was trying to think of what to do to make you laugh, and thus I present you with a choice: you get an SUF exclusive look into an anecdote of your choice from one of my stupid adventures (unblogged material! this is a hot internet ticket, let me tell you).

              Some choices for you:
              1) the time I ate the world’s most repulsive ice cream sundae
              2) the time I celebrated New Year’s Eve by breaking onto a Seoul-area university campus and my friends fought each other with fireworks
              3) the time I was chased down the street by a prostitute in Saigon
              3) the time we were almost killed and eaten by a pack of angry monkeys in India

          • This is absolutely wonderful. I pick #2. Please, SUF, do share the time you celebrated New Year’s Eve by breaking onto a Seoul-area university campus and your friends fought each other with fireworks.

            • So, we had rung in the year of 2011 with a fancy night out in Gangnam (pre-Psy), and were looking for ways to top it. We assembled a crew of rapscallions and ne’er-do-wells and rented out an entire floor of a hostel in downtown Seoul, though in an area we didn’t know that well (we chose it for its proximity to City Hall, which was the Times Square ball drop area).

              Of course, being as careful and well-organized, the dozen of us arrived at very strange, unsynchronized times, and the resident Korean there informed us that the subways would be Mad Max style free-for-alls of cannibalism and the dark heart of human society.

              We scraped the nearby area for a bar and piled in. This was meant to be the cozy, international-feel hostel bar, but it was also literally a hole in the ground. We bounced around a bit on the soft, pliable floorboards, and wondered what we would do if the place caved in. My friend spent much of our time in this hole fending off the advances of a middle-aged Filipino businessman, and we made nearly three separate runs to eat fried chicken out of cups (during one of these runs, we also gave very serious consideration to stealing and riding upon a vespa with a scary anthropomorphic face).

              So 2012 began, and we were in a shitty bar in the ground and feeling bad for ourselves. We decided to drink a bottle of champagne each and then went trawling the neighbourhood for interesting things to do. An oasis of possible thing-doing arrived as we saw the University, and again resident Korean proclaimed that it also counted as a park, so maybe we could all crash it? We discovered the campus largely closed but for one lonely security guard who looked at 12 drunk foreigners stumbling through his post and must have gone “They don’t pay me enough to deal with this shit on New Year’s Fucking Eve.” (I also like to imagine him grumbling in Lethal Weapon style about how he was too old for this shit.) He waved us on by, praying, I imagine, that we kept our vomit to ourselves.

              We began exploring the dark campus, and most of the buildings that were close to the gates were fairly confusing to us in terms of purpose. Lots of enormous stone slabs, and in our state I think we thought them all Rosetta stones, meant to translate ancient languages. When we grew bored, one of my friends ripped a large hay skirt off of a nearby tree and began wearing it as a belt.

              At this point we realized that, yes, actually, we had been carrying a large number of fireworks with us, and yes, they were getting us some strange looks. To be more incognito, we felt we needed to get rid of them, but we couldn’t simply throw them away! Thus someone lit one on fire and aimed it skyward, but also mis-estimated its force and thus threw himself to the ground and began firing it like a Civil War era musketeer. Other friends, also armed with fireworks, ran in all directions and began playing laser tag, except replace lasers with things that could actually burn your eyeballs out. (Fret not: they were all terribly low quality and none had the range to peg any of the intended targets.)

              Our next big plan involved going to eat live squid (at this point it was approximately 3:15 in the morning), but several people, Victorian prudes really, deemed the night too late and too wild, and we all retired to our glorious abode.

  2. Already done, dearest SUF!! It’s the least I could do for all the fun I have had, lurking round these parts for the last year!

    SUF for the win! Fighting!!

      • Well of course it means that! Cos I for one want to know what weird and eccentric corner of the planet you could be dispatched to and what monkey dance they shall have you perform.
        Door to door salesman in Des Moines or opal mining in Turkmenistan? The world is you mollusc! (We won’t make you eat the mollusc, I know how you feel about shellfish!)

          • I have already proclaimed your genius from the rooftops of FaceBook.
            Tomorrow I shall commence Phase Two: The Nagging.

            Congrats on getting to the top 25 – you’re in the home stretch!!

            • Horrors: the weekend saw the rallying of many of my competitors that I had thought fallen. Alas, I am straggling out in the dark regions of the top 50 (position 38! ugh! I’ll never get to Liberia with those kind of numbers).

              My main gameplan involves defeating the other Canadians and usurping their position as the Chosen Canuck in our division. The two who are still above me in rankings seem lovely. Also I want to crush them.

      • I only recently started getting into reddit and imgur, haven’t even been posting myself. Was trying to think of ways to harness the frenetic manpower of thousands of internetters, but I think I would need cloud on that site to even get any attention my way in the first place.

        In sum: I’m a social sucky media-er person. I always laugh when I see people write that they’re a social media consultant as their job, but it’s times like this I wish I had one.

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