Archive of Our Own

[Setting: A large, mostly empty, well-lit stage with a navy blue backdrop. A well-dressed young man strolls slowly around its center, a microphone in one hand and the other tucked into his pocket. His black hair falls into his eyes and his wrists are adorned with various colorful bracelets that shift and fall against each other when he moves.]

"People tell me it's cool having four dads, because I get four times the birthday and Christmas presents. Yeah, but you know what else comes in four times? Father's Day gifts. Like fuck me, right? Four different gifts from four different places. Not the same place, because that's corny. I'm 8 years old, people. Fuck."

"Do you know how hard it is being an only child with four dads? Like it's bad enough with one dad, but FOUR? I can't slack in school, because dad #1 is strict, I can't play sports, because dad #2 is paranoid, I can't eat fast food, because dad #3 is a doctor, and I can't sleep, because dad #4 is fucking loud."

"So my Uncle Johnny's here—hi, Uncle! And you brought Uncle Taeil, how nice. Wait. Shit, if you brought him, how many uncles did he bring? Whatever, I'm just gonna wave at the room. Thanks for paying to see me. You've all done it free for years, but it's nice knowing I'm worth $60 now."

"I have many cousins. I don't play favorites—I do, his name's Jaemin—but I can't say that, ‘cause it'll hurt my other cousins. And I'm a fair person, so I try to love my cousins equally, but there's just some I like more than others, y’know? Don't lie, y'all know which ones I'm talking about."

"A lot of people think my Uncle Jae is my big brother, which is just wrong. He's my uncle. Yes, he's young-looking. He's 32, what'd you expect him to look like? Yes, I look like him. Genes. It's that easy. No, you can't have his number. He's married and my UNCLE. You fucking CREEPS."

"People love to ask me: 'How do you tell your dads apart?' And I say, 'Uh, they all look different?' But no, they meant like what I call them. Some thought I really just call them dad #1 to 4. I don't do that. To their faces. I have a Dad, a Papa, an Appa, and a Baba. It's not hard."

"Okay, you have to understand this. If I ask my Papa for help—those of you who know my Papa, sorry—know that that's when I'm truly desperate. End of my rope. No wits left. Like I love him, don't get me wrong, but all his ideas tend to end with someone in the ER. Usually himself."

"My cousin Yangyang called me the other day. And nothing good ever happens when Yangyang calls, so immediately I get wary. He says, 'Nono, I need a favor, and you absolutely can't tell my dads about this.' He only has two dads, lucky bastard. So I say, 'Whatchu want?' And he says, 'I accidentally ran over the backpack Dad got me for my birthday with my bike, and I know he gave you the same one. Can I borrow it so he doesn't kill me?' 

Now, understand this. His dad—my Uncle Ten, you might've heard of him—is a big fashion designer. His shit ain't cheap. That bag Yangyang ran over was worth $800. It has a silk interior. SILK. And plant-based vegan leather. Yeah, it's EXPENSIVE. So anyway, he ran over it with his bike—motorcycle, lemme clarify. He's 20, got no sense of self-preservation, and rides a motorcycle. Great combination. And now, he wants my bag. My initial reaction was 'Hell no!', 'cause like I said, that bag is EXPENSIVE, and unlike SOMEBODY, I actually cherish it. I don't even let my dads touch it, but my cousin with the atrocious track record wants to use it to avoid an ass-whooping?” 

He breaks off into a sigh. “I love my cousin. I really do, believe me. But you know what I love more? That bag. And my sense of integrity. So I tell him, 'Sorry, Yang. Figure it out yourself', and hang up, because unlike him, I'm not rich. I have 4 dads, but none of them are famous designers. Sue me. Also, he can literally drive his ass to the nearest T10L and buy the same bag with his allowance. And Yangyang, if you're watching this, hear me out. Listen. If you're so fucking stupid that you can't figure that shit out yourself, maybe you really do deserve that ass-whooping."

"So my oldest cousin's getting married. Yes, thank you. Yes, no—HE'S the one getting married, not me, you can stop clapping now. Anyone here know him? His name's Mark. Mark Lee? Rapper, just released his third album, topped Billboard six weeks running, three Grammys? Ooh, a lotta hands, I love that. He worked hard, y'know. He deserves recognition. Not just for his music, but his personality. Like have you ever met someone, and you just know for a fact they're too good for this world? That's literally me with Mark. The day he told me he was engaged, I swear to god, I found his fiancé. Yes. Found. All he told me was his name, and I found him. Don't ask me how, 'cause I don't know, either. Anyway, I sat him down over coffee, and said to him, as any good cousin of the groom should, that he better treat Mark well, or he'll have hell to pay. No, I mean it.  I'm not a violent person, but I'm related to some genuinely scary people. Seriously. I can refer you to my cousin Jaemin, who'll call his brother Chenle, who'll call our cousin Yangyang, who'll tell his father about this, and now you've got a problem."

"So I've always been a pretty good kid, my whole life. Yeah, all 21 years of it, like holy shit. I'm not like some of my cousins, who raise hell for the sake of it, or even some of my uncles, who're just petty bastards. Don't ask me for names, they know who they are. Or—and I'm probably gonna get in a lotta trouble for this, so enjoy it before I meet my demise—my dads when they get together and drink. Shit's horrible. I'm embarrassed to call them my parents every morning after. But I digress. So I'm a pretty good kid. I get good grades. I volunteer at the local animal shelter and food bank, and I give blood every other month or so. I don't drink...much, I don't smoke, I don't sleep around, and I've never missed a day of school. Yes, thank you. I know I'm a good kid, but thanks for validating me anyways.

However, there was this one time where I made my dads lose their shit—yep, all four of them. And some uncles too, 'cause why the hell not, y'know? Might as well. So—so it happened in like 7th grade or so. I came home after school one day, and I'm 12, so I'm small, weird and awkward. And that day at school, a girl told me she liked me, which made me confused, because I was tiny. 5'2", a buck ten soaking wet, like that girl could probably BENCH me. Also, I had acne and braces. Ew.

But anyway, I come home, and I tell my Dad that a girl said she liked me. And he says, without looking at me, 'That's nice, Nono.' So I say, 'I think I might like her too.' Like a DUMBASS, because I didn't know any better. And my Dad's head SNAPS UP, and he's staring at me, and I'm staring at him, and he grabs his phone, and calls my Papa. He tells him everything I said, 'cause they're married, and then my Papa calls my Appa, who calls my Baba, who calls Uncle Johnny, who calls Uncle Ten. And like that has gotta be the longest family telephone game in history. Guinness World Records, where's our certificate at?

Anyhow, a couple hours later, the family arrives, they sit me at the table, and surround me like I'm the key to a cold case, I shit you not. My dads are chugging coffee and talking rapid-fire to each other, Uncle Johnny's eating his third plate of pasta, and Uncle Ten is sobbing. And when things calm down a bit, my Appa looks me in the eye, and says, 'Nono-ah, so you like a girl?' And I'm 12, y'all. I'm being interrogated, I dunno what I did wrong, I panicked. I say yes, and the entire room collectively loses their shit. Appa gasps so hard Dad thought he was having a heart attack. Uncle Johnny chokes on his pasta and Baba had to give him the Heimlich. Uncle Ten starts bawling his eyes out. I start panicking more and then I start to cry, and Uncle Ten picks me up, and we both cry together. And while we're crying together, he pets my head and says, 'Oh you poor, confused child. Liking a girl? My poor, sweet baby.' Like he was genuinely upset I said I liked a girl. And mind you, I didn't figure out my sexuality til I was 15, so we still had a long way to go. 

But by this point, the family is in shambles. Uncle Johnny nearly died, Dad almost called 911, Uncle Ten is still crying, and I'm just confused, so I ask, 'Is it bad to like girls?' And all my dads and uncles just freeze in whatever they're recovering from, and give me this LOOK. And finally, Uncle Ten stops crying and says, 'Nono, nobody's liked a girl in this family for three generations. You broke the streak.' And me, being a bit of a perfectionist, I felt horrible. My family worked so hard on something for three generations, and I went and fucked it all up. 

But like I said, I figured myself out three years later. I'm not attracted to women at all. But 12-year-old me didn't know that, and neither did my family. I swear to god, they might've actually disowned me if I did. But luckily, I'm just as gay as the rest of 'em, so crisis averted."

"If you ever want to immediately lose faith in humanity, just watch my cousin Donghyuck cook. See, you don't even know him and you're cringing. The kid's gotta be a secret pyrokinetic, I'm telling you. No, yeah, seriously! Put him in a kitchen, blink, and SOMETHING'S on fire. It's amazing. Like the stove isn't even ON, how the fuck did you do it?"

"I got a confession to make. I...wasn't always funny. Yeah, you're laughing now, but it's true! My entire childhood, I was actually clowned because I wasn't funny! I had no sense of humor, none! Zilch! My cousins Jaemin, Chenle, and Donghyuck got a particular kick outta it. They nicknamed me 'Nojam', which, for all of you who aren't in tune with Korean slang, means 'no fun'. And I admit it, I was a pretty boring kid. I didn't have many extracurriculars and I just studied all the time. But I had the highest grades, so they can all suck on that. 

Yep, not a single B in my report card, through my ENTIRE academic career. I got a B+ once, but it's still better than a B, and it was Advanced Chemistry, which they all almost failed, so. And it's ironic, 'cause Jaemin's going to med school and Chenle's an engineering major.

But guess what I'M doing now? I'm standing on this fucking stage, as a COMEDIAN, telling JOKES for a living, with my own NETFLIX SPECIAL. So Jaem, Lele, Hyuck, if y'all are watching this, I hope that med school, engineering school, art school, and student debt is treating you well."

"So I'm gonna let y'all in on a little secret. I got a tattoo. Yeah, I know, shocker, right? It's not my first one, so don't act too surprised, you're two years too late for that reaction. This new one, though—you can't see it 'cause it's on my thigh—is really meaningful to me. I got it with my cousins the other day. I'm not gonna drop names, but just know it was all of them, so the shop got VERY good business. We agreed on the designs before college, so it's been marinating for a couple years, and just so you know, it's a specific tarot card each.

And those of y'all who're into tarot readings, astrology, etc., don't come for us. We have no idea what those cards mean other than what the internet says. But we got them tattooed onto our skin, anyway. Permanently. Because we're in our 20s, and we don't give a shit. And I know what you're probably thinking—what do my dads think about it? What if the tattoos actually mean something stupid? What if I regret it? First off, lemme clear something up. My dads can't get mad at me for this, because they all have tattoos. Yeah. Every one of 'em. So they have no right to get on my ass about it, 'cause Appa got his when he was younger than me, Papa has one on his ass that he got when he was wasted, and Dad actually got a name tatted that he later had to get removed. Baba's are okay, though, so I won't drag him here.

Second, I KNOW my tattoo might mean something horrible or completely stupid. We ALL do. And we're okay with it. Because then we ALL have a stupid tattoo. It's not like one person got a stupid tattoo and everyone else got meaningful ones, so bam, equality. So by default, I'm not gonna regret my tattoo. I went knowing I might get something dumb. That was a conscious decision I made. While I was sober. While my cousins were sober. We were all sober, and that was an accomplishment in itself, because if you've ever met my cousin Renjun, you'd know that motherfucker is NEVER sober. Like maybe 20% of the time, but most days if you bump into him there's a good chance he's already had a drink or four. But yeah, even HE was sober. And we got our tats at J & T's, which is my Uncles Johnny and Taeil's shop, shoutout to them.

Anyhow, we got our tats done, it hurt like hell—some more than others, because they didn't do their homework—and now, we're a customized UNIT. And disclaimer, we don't get family discounts. Tattoo is art, and we paid our Uncles—or dads—what their work is worth. We're not assholes."

"If you wanna talk petty, literally NOBODY tops my Baba. If you think my Dad's petty, think again. Once, my Baba got mad at my Appa for spending $700 on shoes he doesn't even wear. They fought about it. And it was winter, so it gets really fuckin cold at night, and we had a pool in the backyard. And I swear, I can't make this shit up, but a week later, when it's forecasted to get really cold, my Baba took Appa's credit cards, duct-taped them to a brick, and threw it into the deep end of the pool. By the next morning, the whole thing had frozen solid.

COMPLETELY solid. You can ice skate on that shit, it was that fucking cold. And god, Appa was furious when he found out. But he couldn't do shit, because the credit cards were six feet under a block of ice, and he can't drill his way down. And I'm not saying I condone this, but we all know who won that one. And if you think I'm shitting you, here, look at that. Look at that! Yeah, that's me by the door. I was like 16. And you see that man? That grown-ass man sitting head-between-knees by the pool? That's my Appa after my Baba got through with him."

"So yesterday I was online and saw a bunch of discourse over my surname. And look, I get it—four dads, four names, I gotta have a weird mix of it all, right? No. For the last time, people, my surname's Lee, like my Appa. Don't ask me why. They probably flipped a coin to decide it or some shit."

"So my cousin Sungchan's here. I know where he's seated—him and his new boyfriend. Please don't try to hide, new boyfriend, I have a good vantage point here, I'll find you. Yeah. I can see all the corners of this room, every seat, every person. And even if I don't find you, know that our cousins, uncles, and my dads are all here at the show. You heard right. ALL of them. You're surrounded, buddy."

"Okay, but you know who scares me? My baby cousin Jisung. He's 18, dances competitively, face of an angel, heart of gold, probably killed a man. Yeah. He's not like me. I can't get away with shit. I'm one kid with four dads. He's got two dads and five older brothers. He gets away with MURDER."

"I didn't have friends growing up, and I still don't! I have no friends outside my family, and they're the reason why! As a kid, my cousins were super overprotective of me, because I was on the fragile side. I was always sick, kind of small, and if the wind blew too hard, there's a pretty good chance I'll get blown away. So my cousins always crowded me to make sure I lived to see the next day. It was a nice gesture, but sometimes they go overboard, and that's what causes all these problems. Like it's fine if you wanna walk me to class or take me home, but you can't just growl at every stranger that comes within ten feet of me and threaten people with a nasty death if they just happen to accidentally bump into me. Seriously, I'm not gonna die if I fall and scrape my knee, okay? Calm the fuck down. But as you can all probably guess, they did not in fact calm the fuck down, and eventually, people just associated me with a bunch of hissing gremlins, so now I'm alone."

"So my Uncle Woo's in town right now. And it's weird, because in person, he looks so young. I mean, he IS young. He's 31. But usually when I see him, he's in some thirst-trap magazine, looking like a MAN. Y'know, all mature and sexy with his abs showing and his hair slicked back. But in person? The dude got ID'd for boozy ice cream."

"Y'know, I'm so over the whole DILF agenda associated with my show. Like I see you, nasty internet fuckers. And I dunno what's going on, but in case I haven't made it clear enough already, my dads are MARRIED. Not all four of them to each other, but they're MARRIED. My uncles too. They're all MARRIED. In COMMITTED RELATIONSHIPS. With CHILDREN. They have FAMILIES. Do you honestly think a couple of dads who're all employed full-time with kids to juggle day in and day out have the time to hit you up? NO. And if you do, then clearly you're not an adult. Because once you're an adult, you realize something. Life is nothing more than a precarious balancing act we're all forced into. You've got work and career in one hand, family in another, bills on top of your head, and anxiety about how the fuck to do taxes clamped to your ass.

You don't have the time or energy to go around sleeping with whoever the fuck calls you hot, because you've got RESPONSIBILITIES. I'm 21, I've got responsibilities. I have rent to pay, food to buy, cousins to feed 'cause half of them practically lives with me, and a career! And that's just me! Now if you wanna talk about my uncles or my dads, think about everything I just listed, plus college fees for the kids, retirement planning, stock exchanges, mortgage payments, bills, insurance payment bullshit, worrying about their kids, AND careers.

We've only got 24 hours a day. Worrying about all that shit takes time. Making money to worry about that shit takes time. Let's count it. 8 hours for work and sleep each. 4 hours for home chores and whatnot. 2 hours to pay bills or whatever. 1 hour to drink away the sorrows. Another hour to get your shit together and prepare for tomorrow’s bullshit. Bam—you're outta time. And if you're thinking, 'Well, they can cut time SOMEWHERE for fucking', NO THEY CAN'T. And especially not with some creep on the internet who's probably 14. Being a dad is a full-time job. Being a decent human being is a full-time job. And by the looks of it, you're unemployed."

"I've recently come to an epiphany that I'm turning into my Dad. 'Cause every time someone says something dumb to my face, I take a deep breath and say, 'Oh, my sweet, merciful Lord Above', like that'll actually calm me down. And it does. So that led to me realizing something. My Dad, whenever he got annoyed or mad at me or anyone, he'll always take a deep breath and say 'Oh, my sweet, merciful Lord Above, lend me patience', not 'cause he needs to chill, but because he's buying us time to figure out what we did wrong and fix it before he beats our asses."

"I got into an argument with my cousin Hendery last week at the family barbeque, and I've learned my lesson from that, holy shit. He's two years older than me, and a philosophy master's in logic. Yeah, we all see where this is going, right? Also, he's a Libra and I'm a Taurus, so. Anyways, we're arguing, and he gets annoyed with me. He goes, 'Nono, I'm wasting my time arguing with you. Just type out your entire argument, I'll prove you wrong.' And that's odd, 'cause who the hell argues over paper anymore? But I thought fuck it, we're both tired, I'll bite. So I type out my entire argument, opening to conclusion, WITH EVIDENCE, and it takes up about a whole page. Single-spaced. I gotta admit, I was actually kinda proud of it. I print it out, I hand it to him, he takes it, goes inside the house, and disappears for like two hours.

And then, when he comes back, he's like, an entirely different person. I watched Hendery go into the house with Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian t-shirt, flip-flops, and holding that paper. He comes out of the house with glasses, khakis, a polo, a sweater vest, and a whole notebook. It's like he actually DRESSES different just to get his brain to work that much better. Kinda pretentious, if you ask me, but to each their own, I guess. Dress for success, whatever. So he comes up to me, hands me the notebook, and tells me to read through the first 30 pages.

And I'm like 'Okay?'. I take the notebook, I flip it open, and I almost shit my pants, y'all. 'Cause on those 30 pages, are the most symbols, numbers, and logic jargon I've ever witnessed in my LIFE. It doesn't even look like math or letters anymore, it looks like hieroglyphs. Then Hendery slides by, all smug, and explains how he took each individual statement of my argument, translated them into conditional propositions, performed truth tables on every one, then linked them all together in a long-ass proof, which by itself took up about 20 pages.

And he even explains his reasoning with each line of the proof, as if he hasn't already demonstrated that logic is very much his thing and he's clearly more intelligent than I am. Like, dude, you could've just told me that you're right, I'm wrong, and end it there. But NO , the asshole goes all-out to prove himself right with 30 pages of logical dissection of my bullshit, and even dresses nerdy to rub it in. And okay, you've made your point. I'm wrong. I don't need to finish reading the proof to know that. It's 9 PM and I just want some tequila."

"I love my Uncle Taeil. Yes. Uncle Taeil, I love you, know that. I love you, and I'll be there Friday for dinner, don't worry. Now, I know y'all are probably thinking I did something wrong and am just kissing ass right now, but no. I'm not. Because I didn't do anything wrong. Yeah. Someone DID do something wrong, but it wasn't ME. And before you jump to conclusions, it wasn't any of my cousins, either. Like for once, us kids, we didn't do shit. None of us! And we outnumber our parents two to one. It was actually our dads. Or well, my Dad, to be specific.

And before I go on, y'all need to know this. My Uncle Taeil, he's the oldest of my uncles, and he's a fucking GANGSTER. Like it isn't obvious, 'cause you look at him—all 5' 7" of him—and you just see a little dude with a nice smile, pretty tats, kind eyes, and a cardigan. You don't see a threat. You see a human cuddle bear, but you don't see a single dangerous bone in that man. And if you're lucky, you never will. Maybe you'll spend your entire life being coddled, picked up from school, and having fresh chocolate chip cookies baked for you.

But no, my life's a joke, so of course I see how he can be a threat. It happened last Friday, when we usually go to his place for dinner. And dinner at Uncle Taeil's is always fun. He makes great food, and he has two dining tables, so nobody has to be exiled to the patio. Anyhow, at dinner, Dad and Uncle Jae got into an argument over a vacation plan. A few names were called. Papa started recording midway for blackmail. Baba made him stop. Dad started raising his voice. Uncle Jae was getting frustrated. Jaemin was eating rice out of the cooker. I’m getting antsy. I don't like watching my family argue, especially not my parents and uncles, since there is a bit of an age gap, and generational tensions arise. Which is stupid, 'cause if you take the time to think about it, most of 'em are from the same fucking generation.

So they're arguing, and Uncle Jae says Dad's too anal, and Dad gets mad, he slams his hand on the table, and goes, 'Listen here, kid,' at Uncle Jae. And RIGHT THEN, Uncle Taeil sets down his spoon, nice and calm, like so, picks up his glass, and hurls it at Dad's head. It doesn't hit him, of course. It hits the wall behind him, and shatters. But it gets the job done. Dad and Uncle Jae both freeze. Uncle Johnny goes to get the broom. Renjun is drinking my wine. Jaemin finishes the rice from the cooker. Chenle is hogging all the braised pork. And I'm watching, lowkey shitting myself, as Uncle Taeil stands, and he's moving like a cat. Y'know, like when cats move all smooth and slow 'cause they know they're boutta fuck shit up? Like that. And he leans on the table, stares at Dad, and says, with a VERY kind smile, 'Doyoung-ah, this is my house. If you can't play nice here, then get out.' 

And—holy shit. Uncle Taeil doesn't swear, like ever, but HOLY SHIT. Then he just goes back to eating like nothing ever happened! And the entire time, his kids didn't even bat an eye! They didn't care!  Which is fair, considering they were raised by him. But real talk, just how much shit did you see to NOT REACT when that happens? What have you all BEEN THROUGH? 'Cause after witnessing that side of my uncle, my entire fucking life flashed before my eyes. And my cousins—these motherfuckers were completely unfazed. NOTHING! Ice in the veins, stone-cold! And it was then that I finally understood why Renjun's halfway to alcoholism. He's Uncle Taeil's second eldest. He's been around my uncle long enough, so he has every right to cirrhosis—he's EARNED it."

"I dunno how relevant this is to all of you, but I am, in fact, single. And NO, that's NOT an invitation for you to come harass me. Don't hit me up. Leave me alone. If you think I'm standing here wearing ripped jeans and a suede jacket to get your attention, think again, dude. I'm dressed like this, NOT to please you, trust me. If I could, I'd come here dressed like any normal 21-year-old, which is just week-old sweatpants and a hoodie. But no, I can't do that, 'cause I have a styling team run by Uncle Ten, and he'll skin me alive if I don't dress nice. 

So for all you horny bastards out there who have been tryna contact me or are currently thinking about it, I encourage you to stop. My default appearance is not THIS. My natural state of existence is lying on my couch, in sweats that I probably should wash, while eating doritos. Not sexy at all. My legs have not been waxed willingly in about a year. They're waxed, but not for you, asshole. They're waxed 'cause I went to visit my Uncle Ten, which was my first mistake, and he forced me into a salon chair and had his ladies rob me of my pilo-insulation.

So now, I have to wear all these tight clothes and layers to stay warm. It's a basic human need. I'll freeze to death if I'm not mummified. It has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to be eye candy. In fact, I hate looking nice. Have you any idea how hard this shit is? My face is caked with probably two pounds of BB cream, nude eyeshadow, and lip balm. I can't sit properly or even bend my knees more than 30 degrees in these pants, which took me about 10 minutes to even PULL ON. My hair is tugging at my scalp from all the gel holding it back. These shoes are giving me blisters on my heels, one of which I'm pretty sure just popped, so, medic! I need a band-aid! And I'm pretty sure this necklace is revealing some sort of latent silver allergy I have, like it knows it’s too expensive to belong on my peasant ass.

So there you have it, y'all. I'm pretty now, I'll be pretty an hour later, and I'm FUCKING MISERABLE. I hate this shit. And if you like it, fine, whatever, you do you. But me, I can't WAIT to have all this wiped off my face, washed outta my hair, and peeled off my skin. I can't WAIT to go home, change my locks so Uncle Ten doesn't break into my house, and crawl into clothes that'll give him a heart attack. I'm done with looking pretty, y'all. And that isn't even in my job description! My job is to stand here and give you jokes to laugh at. I'm not here to be your fucking boytoy. I read my entire contract—even the fine print! There was NOTHING in there that said I had to look like this and be ogled at.

And hey, all you horndogs watching this and sending me VERY inappropriate messages on socials, listen up. If THIS is what you're jerking off to, you're gonna be disappointed. Find someone else if you want a pretty boy. I'm not it. On a good day, I'm mediocre . At BEST. So save your time and download Tinder or some shit, fuck. And Uncle Ten, if you're watching, I'm not blaming you. I know you mean well and you care about me and my appearance, but on top of my next manicure appointment, can I ask a favor? Your company has some awesome lawyers on board. Do any of them specialize in cyber harassment? 'Cause I have a list of assholes, and I want them gone."

"So recently, baby Jisung told me about his first serious crush, which is sweet. So cute. He's young and he's in love. Adorable. So, being the loving older cousin I am, I ask him what the person's like, 'cause I don't wanna assume. And he gives me this big, starry-eyed look, and says to my face, 'He's so hot, and oh my GOD, Nono, he—*whimpers*—he READS!' And...okay. So I wait. And I wait...and I wait. And nothing else. That's it. That's all I got. So I asked him, 'Sung, anything else about him that you like?' And this kid just gives me another look, and says, 'He speaks French.' Which would be a little impressive, if he was actually FLUENT in it, but I ask about it, and Jisung says the guy's not. So I go, 'That's it?', and he just gives me this happy nod.” 

He stops and heaves a large, dramatic sigh. “Bless his heart. Bless his heart, 'cause mine is breaking. It's breaking, y'all. And it's breaking because holy shit, does this kid have some low standards—IF ANY! Okay, the guy's hot. SO?! I see lots of hot guys, especially now, since summer's coming. The world is full of hot men, y'gotta give me more than that, dude, come on. And okay, the guy reads. Again, SO?! What does he read? Romance? Propaganda? Porn? You haven't told me a damn thing! Like shit, I read too! And not only do I read, I write! You think these jokes just spawn from my guts and I can just pull them outta my ass whenever I want? No! I spend HOURS writing them! I have entire notebooks full of 'em! Jaemin reads! Have you SEEN his textbooks? The letters are in 6-point font and half the words are Latin. And Chenle? He doesn't just read, he COMPUTES. Hell, even Yangyang reads! He's failing Lit but he READS! Also, he reads in five languages! FIVE! English, Chinese, German, Korean, Thai! You want multilingual? Yangyang's multilingual! And he's FLUENT! In ALL OF THEM! Now THAT'S impressive! And Sung, you're bilingual! English and Korean, and you're fluent in BOTH! You can do better!

And my disappointment must've shown, 'cause Jisung's face falls—which was the worst expression change to witness—and he says, 'Yeah, Jaem and Lele didn't like him, either.' Now, I dunno what exactly my cousins didn't like about Jisung's crush, but I have a pretty good idea, ‘cause they're pretty similar to me, and I have high standards when it comes to men. ESPECIALLY when it comes to men. And I don't mean anybody with a dick, I mean, specifically, that if you're a cis male person, I got a list of standards 15 pages long custom-made for YOU. Why? 'Cause my family's seen too many disappointments in its collective gay existence, okay? We don't need another one up in this bitch. But isn't that discriminatory? No, it isn't. I have standards for EVERYBODY. Yours is longer 'cause I might actually end up marrying you, and I don't wanna waste the rest of my life, or even a day of it, with some loser. Nobody wants that! So that's why my standards exist. That's why Jaemin and Chenle also have a list of standards a mile long. It's partly 'cause we're picky, and partly 'cause we're not idiots.

But anyways, I look at Jisung, and I tell him, 'Okay, I've never met the guy, so I can't judge. You do you, dude.' And he gives me that happy look again, and skips off. And y'all...listen, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to just hold him and tell him that he's a fucking idiot."

"Just so you know, I don't deal with haters. I don't care about them. So if you see me clap back at haters online, it's not actually ME. My younger cousins all know the password to my socials. They're basically my freeloading secretaries, who get together over brunch to rip people a new one."

"If you wanna know who has the biggest balls in my family, imma just tell it to you straight. It's my cousin Donghyuck. No, seriously. He doesn't give a SHIT. He wakes up in the morning not choosing violence, but choosing to be problematic, and somehow, it's never his fault. And I don't mean problematic as in he gets into legal trouble, no, that's not what I mean. I mean that every day, he'll find ways to make people uncomfortable, but if you just pause and look at WHY he's making people uncomfortable, you actually start respecting him for it. Donghyuck's a fashionista. He always dresses well, but he straight-up REFUSES to conform to social and gender norms, which I think is awesome, 'cause clothes really shouldn't have a gender, like all they do is keep you warm and ensure you're not arrested for public indecency.

So anyways, the other day I was with him, y'know, shopping for clothes. He's got his drip on, and he's holding this bunch of new clothes he wants to try. We go find the fitting rooms in the store, and once we find it, he and I immediately go for the men's room, 'cause duh, and we're stopped by this store lady. She goes all, 'Miss, the ladies' room is that way! That's the men's room, you can't go in with your boyfriend!' Yeah. Yeah, I KNOW! Ugh. UGH, first of all. And second, there's just so much wrong with that, so let's unpack it a little.

I honestly wouldn't have cared about what she said at first, 'cause the lady was doing her job, whatever, but it's the TONE she used when she talked to us, like we're just some dumb, horny kids. I don't fuck with that, and neither does Donghyuck. Oh, ESPECIALLY not Donghyuck.

But it's easy to see how the lady would’ve mistaken him as a girl. Donghyuck's a pretty dude. Like he's objectively very attractive, with long eyelashes and a delicate face. His hair is getting long, and he's really good at makeup. And that day, he was wearing a long skirt, so yeah, I can understand how people might mistake him for a girl. It's all good, honest mistake, correct yourself, move on. But after the lady says that, Donghyuck turns to her and says, 'I'm a guy.' And his voice is high for a dude, but it's still distinctly male, y'know? Like you'd hear it and go, 'Yep, he's a dude.' But this lady just DOESN'T get it. She kept going, 'Miss, the ladies' room is THAT way. You can't go into the men's room.' All condescending and shit, and Donghyuck's getting fed up at this point, 'cause he's not as patient as me. So he just throws his clothes at me, goes up to the lady, drops his voice—which is terrifying—and says, 'Lady, for the last time, I'm a guy. I have no tits, and I've got a big dick. Now, I'm going into the men's room with my fucking COUSIN, and I'm trying on those clothes.'

And the lady freezes, blushes up to her eyeballs, with this like, totally mortified look on her face. But then, she still had the nerve to say, 'But then why are you dressed like THAT?', like my cousin's preferred choice of fashion is to blame for her sexist, binary bullshit. I try to say something to help, but Donghyuck beats me to it. He goes, 'Hon, I can wear whatever the fuck I want, 'cause I'm one pretty motherfucker, and I've got the balls to pull it off. You being conditioned to think every pretty thing's female is not my fucking problem.'

Yeah. Yeah, I KNOW. And he did all of that while wearing 4-inch heels, like what a BADASS. And better yet, 'cause of him, Uncle Woo caught wind of it, and now, he's wearing dresses, skirts, and traditionally "feminine" apparel in his shoots, and the media went NUTS over it. Like y'know what I'm talking about? Supermodel Jungwoo Kim blowing gender norms out of the water with his latest obsession over feminine fashion? Well, that all started with Donghyuck. It was HIM. My cousin started a fucking fashion revolution, and he DOESN'T. EVEN. CARE."

"I like gifts, but when they're from my Uncle Sicheng…” He sighs. “Y'know how there's always that ONE family member who remembers your obsession from when you were 8, and makes it a part of your personality? I'm 21. It's been 13 years, and I STILL get puppy-print pajamas on my birthday."

"My Baba's strict, but I'm his only son, and it has its perks. If any of my cousins called their dads when they're working and said they're hungry, they'd be hung up on. But when I called my Baba, he sent me $50 and directions to the nearest decent restaurant in under three minutes."

"So you're probably wondering why tonight's show is only $40, and why I'm wearing all black. Frankly speaking, it's not 'cause I decided to be generous and casual. It's actually 'cause you pay to listen to me talk for about an hour, and I intend to give you your money's worth. But also, my cousin Sungchan just got his heart broken today. He called me three hours ago, ugly sobbing, while eating a tub of chocolate ice cream. I didn't actually see him eat the ice cream, but I could definitely hear him scooping and eating something in the background, and I know how he gets when he's sad, so I'm just making an educated guess. Jokes aside, that was heartbreaking to hear, 'cause as an older cousin, the absolute WORST thing that can happen is learning that one of your beloved younger cousins got his heart broken by some douche.

So going back to my original point, tonight's show is a bit cheaper, 'cause you pay me by the time that I spend talking here, but I'm gonna need to cut things short so I can meet with my family, find the fucker who hurt our Sungchannie, and fix this shit. Hence, the black clothes.

And hey, asshole who broke my cousin, I want you to listen up, buddy. We're coming for you. And if you think I'm shitting you 'cause this is a live show that's recorded for global entertainment platforms, think again. We know who you are, and better yet, we know WHERE you are. Sungchan shares everything with us. By contacting me, he has by default contacted my entire extended family, scary uncles and cousins included. And I dunno if you remember me saying this before in my show, but once Yangyang gets this shit out to his father, you're FUCKED.

So say your prayers, dude, 'cause my uncles are capable of great, terrifying things, and have a very handsome collection of potential weapons. If you think that my Uncle Ten wouldn't risk his precious $1,000 luxury golf driver in order to beat your ass, I've got news for you. He WOULD. His husband, too. They've got money. Golf clubs, baseball bats, hockey sticks, and fast cars, they've got it all. And if you aren't running already, you're gonna be very well-acquainted with them. 

It's 8 PM, and the moment I'm done talking here, is when we set off, and I've already been talking for a WHILE. My cousin Chenle's waiting for me outside with a GPS and a paintball gun. Yangyang is revving up his motorcycle as I speak. He'll probably get to you first, dude, I'm not gonna lie. Yangyang's not afraid to break his neck or the law, so somebody's gonna be in the hospital by the end of tonight. I dunno who yet, but we've placed bets, and the money that's on YOU is way more than that on Yangyang, so there's some food for thought. And y'all might think that this is part of my joke, and I don't mean any of it.

If that's the case, you must be new. Welcome. Anyhoo, my time's almost out, and I gotta go prepare for a night of morally dubious actions with my fam, which may or may not result in one of us being arrested. If all goes well, I'll see y'all next week. If not, y'know what happened."

"Hi, y’all! I'm BACK! So you know things went well. SO WELL, in fact, that my cousin Shotaro—who was studying abroad in Japan—came home, just to partake in last week. Was he late? A little. Did he still help? Yep. He brought candy and laundry detergent, so everything's good now."

"A lotta people are asking if my cousin Yangyang's okay and if we really beat up Sungchan's ex. Well, I can't expose the nitty-gritties of that night, 'cause freedom's nice, but just know that Yangyang's fine, and most of us got $20 richer, which isn't much, 'cause we just took our money back."

"My Papa, he's probably the chillest parent I have. Like he never yelled at me, even though he's yelling practically ALL the time, never got on my ass for anything, and never had really high standards for me, which is probably why he's the only one who watches all of my shows. But I'll tell you what, people, he is the one parent I will NEVER talk back to. I always do what he tells me. I don't ask questions, I don't disobey him. If he tells me to paint the fucking roof, you can bet your ass I'm finding a ladder and harness to figure that shit out.

And I feel it, you’re all wondering what he did that made me so obedient. But hey, I was already a good kid, so he didn't have to do THAT much, but what he DID do was instill the fear of God into me. And I'm not saying he threatened me or some shit, my Papa would never do that. He's a good man, a good father, with the biggest heart I've ever had the privilege to be loved with. When I was a kid, I was anemic, and he offered to donate blood to me, which isn't how that works, but he just wanted me to be okay. Yeah. A real gem, my Papa. I love him. But that doesn't mean he's not scary sometimes. And he's not scary in the way that most parents are, when they have to consciously put time and effort into looking and sounding intimidating to discipline their kids. No. My Papa's scary, and he doesn't even know he's scary.

And I'll never forget this, I swear to god. I was 9. I come into the kitchen one afternoon, and Papa's in the kitchen, cooking. He's got all his big fancy knives—and yes, this is the same man who sends himself to the hospital every other month. Anyways, he's got his knives, and he's sharpening one, 'cause he was getting ready to cook fish that night, and there's a bucket of live fish in the sink that he has yet to murder. I don't wanna startle him, so I wait 'til he's done sharpening his knife and about to gut a fish, then I say, 'Papa? You busy?' He jumps a little, and turns towards me. He's holding a knife in one hand, like so, and a squirming fish by the mouth in the other. And that thing was NOT having it, lemme tell you. It thrashed so hard its tail slapped my Papa's wrist. He looks at me, and says, 'Yeah, Nono?'

Then I say, 'Papa, there's a mosquito in my room, can you get it for me?' Papa says, 'Nono, did you try killing it?' I'm honest, I say no, 'cause I was too short to reach it, and it was perfectly valid for me to ask for help. And this—this is when I knew I screwed myself over. Papa gives me a look, and says, 'Okay, I got this, kiddo. Stand back.' And I didn't know what I needed to stand back from, but then, he sets his knife down, drops the fish back into the bucket, pulls out a blowtorch, and takes a mouthful of vodka, straight from the bottle.

Yeah, some of you are probably connecting the dots now. And look, I know my Papa always means well, but he's not...he has ideas, but none of them are ever...the BEST one, y'know? And even as a 9-year-old, I knew this, so I got a bottle of cold water and a towel, and followed him. By the time I get to my room, my doorframe is on FIRE. The entire top corner is on fire, and my Papa's standing there, looking awfully proud of himself, with a second-degree burn on two of his fingers. And I couldn't even find it in me to freak out. Like I was just in shock.

My room's on fire, my Papa set it on fire, and from the looks of it, he's content to just watch the entire goddamn house burn down. I'm actually surprised the sprinklers didn't go off, though that's probably 'cause I finally screamed for Dad, and he busted in and beat out the fire. And then he beat the shit outta Papa for almost killing everyone. Which, deserved. So you get why I don't ever dare backtalk my Papa when he tells me to do something? 'Cause if I do, then he'll figure out a way to get shit done himself, and it'll probably end with us all dead."

"So I recently got a new cousin. And I don't mean like one of my uncles decided to have another kid. My cousin Mark just got married, and—yeah, he did! Some of y'all probably saw it in a magazine already. It was a big wedding, very beautiful, with way too many famous people. And holy shit, I've only ever seen these people on TV or the internet, but they're REAL. That entire day just felt like a big fever dream. The only part of it that felt like cold, hard reality was the preparation before attending the wedding. Y'know what I'm talking about?

Like when it's ass o'clock in the morning, your phone's blowing up, then suddenly, you get all the blankets snatched off of you, 'cause your cousin broke into your house—AGAIN—and they drag you to your own bathroom and force you into the shower when you're still in your pajamas. 

And at that point, you're wondering if you're still dreaming, but then realize you're not, 'cause your cousin turns the cold water on, and yells at you to hurry the fuck up and shower. That wakes you up real good. Oh yeah, it does. And you gotta work around the wet clothes, peeling it off like it's cellophane, and hurry the fuck up to shower, 'cause you gotta get out ASAP and make sure your cousins—plural, 'cause if there's one, there's gotta be more—aren't burning your house down. You get out, you open the door, and your uncle's standing there, looking like a million bucks at five in the morning, and hands you a bag with clothes in it. He tells you to change, and you don't argue 'cause it's too early and he's scary when he gets mad. 

The clothes are nice. Probably worth a whole paycheck. But it's from your uncle, so it's basically free. And after you're decent, you realize that almost half of your goddamn family has broken into your house, and you don't even have time to be offended, 'cause they drag you out for breakfast. At 6 AM, when the wedding doesn't even start 'til 1 PM. But no, you gotta leave that early, 'cause after breakfast, your uncle ushers you all into spas and salons for treatments that would cost you your life savings. And you're confused, 'cause this is shit the groom should go through, and you say this, and your uncle just laughs, and tells you that the groom is going through his pampering somewhere else. Again, you don't ask questions, but this time, it's 'cause you really don't wanna know. All you know is that your uncle wants everyone to look nice, and has about $50,000 to burn, so you just take it.

You're massaged, scrubbed down until you're a whole pound lighter, moisturized—even in places you didn't know you needed to be moisturized in, and then you're tortured. Yeah. After all that pampering, you're just yanked off the massage table and thrown into a salon chair. Then you get your eyebrows threaded, your hair fried and burned, and your face caked with more makeup than you've ever SEEN in your life. And you can't quite complain, 'cause your cousins are going through the same thing, and some of them are clearly in more pain than you.

And by the time everyone's done, it's already almost noon and you're all looking like male idols. Which is kinda weird, 'cause you're so used to seeing yourself and your family look all normal and gross. Your uncle looks pleased with himself, then takes you all out for lunch, which is just a smoothie, 'cause you're all gonna eat later, anyways. Then, everyone's brought to your uncle's company, and he sends his stylists to wreak havoc over you all. You're forcibly pulled from your cousins, and it's like a scene from a tragic drama or some shit.

You're disoriented, everything's moving in slow-mo, one of your cousins starts kicking and screaming, another one gets hauled over someone's shoulder, and you're pretty sure their brother just fainted. You're all yelling, everyone's hysterical, and your uncle's cracking up. Yeah, just another Wednesday for this sadist. And after you're all separated and shoved into individual styling rooms, you're stripped down to your underwear and getting measured, then fitted with a suit that almost gives you a heart attack when you learn what it's worth. And not only do you get a suit, you get fucking jewelry, the price of which you don't even want to think about, 'cause your heart's had enough excitement for one day. All of that takes about another hour, and now you're kinda getting why your family kidnapped you so early.

All that preparation shit takes time. A LOT of it. But it's also worth it, 'cause you went into it looking like a slob, and you came out looking like the world's biggest idol boy group. Everyone looks like a million bucks now, not just your uncle, who is STILL cracking up.

And in hindsight, you see that all of that—all of THAT—was just for three hours in an overpriced venue, surrounded by people you don't really know, lowkey having an anxiety attack when someone says they recognize you, and hiding behind your cousins to avoid the attention. Yeah. That was the story of me at Mark's wedding. I don't like large gatherings, okay? And yeah, I'm happy for him and glad I got to be pampered in ways I could never afford, but I don't ever wanna go through that shit again. No offense to Uncle Ten, please don't come for me. And Hyuck, when the FUCK did you replicate my keys? Hendery, I know you helped, asshole. You and Dejun. Jaem, I'm sure it was funny to you. Lele, do me a solid and wipe Jaem's phone. And Lucas, our new cousin, welcome. This is gonna be your life and family now. Hope you enjoy.”

"One thing I've learned in life that I think everyone should know is that if you know someone in uni or grad school, don't ever bother them during finals week. Just don't do it, it's suicide, no cap. And some of y'all might be thinking, 'But Jeno, aren't you also in uni?' The answer's no. No, I dropped out two years in 'cause I landed a comedy gig after winning a stand-up competition while I was at uni, and now I'm here. But anyways—yes, thank you, I know, crazy—anyways, don't ever fucking bother anyone during their finals week. You'll regret it, and you won't have anyone to blame but yourself. True story. I was with my cousin Jaemin last week, y'know, chilling at my house. He's got his books spread out on the table, and I'm on my laptop, tryna get shit done for work, when we hear this kid scream-crying outside, and they won't stop. Even after 10 minutes. 

But here's the thing—normally, Jaemin's a good-natured guy. He's very chill, easygoing, and pretty nice. However, what I've come to realize is that on finals week, everyone becomes this distorted nightmare version of themselves. It's like their personality decides to do a 540, 'cause a 180 isn't enough, so they gotta make it extra-extra twisted. So after 10 minutes of this kid screaming, Jaemin gets up, and makes a beeline for my window. He yanks it open, pops off the screen, and sticks his head out. Yeah, he pops off the screen, 'cause he's extra. Then, he does something we all wanted to do at some point, but none of us were unhinged enough to try. He sticks his head out, and yells at the top of his lungs: 'Shut the FUCK up, kid! Some of us got real shit to cry about!'

...Yeah...yeah, he really did that. Y'know, as mature adults do. He goes on, 'You think the world revolves around you? You don't gotta memorize bones or figure out how the fuck RNA splicing works, SHUT THE FUCK UP! Why the fuck are you crying? I'M the one who should be CRYING!'

After that, dead silence. The kid's no longer crying, and I can't hear any other voices, so I'm guessing their parents are also shook. Jaemin gets back in, pops the screen back on my window, slams it closed, and goes back to studying like it's nobody's motherfucking business.  Like I saw a whole other side to my cousin right then, y'all. Jaemin's usually very composed, like the worst he'll do is make a rude comment or laugh a little too loudly, but that night changed my entire perspective of him. He wasn't just stressed, his sanity legit cracked. Though to be fair, he had every right to do what he did. Not that I'm saying you should go and yell at every screaming kid, but I get where his rage is coming from. I saw the work he has to do and study for. That shit is cruel and unusual punishment. 

So there it is, y'all, don't EVER bother a uni student during finals week. Especially those in STEM. These motherfuckers are unhinged, and they won't hesitate to rip you apart. Even if you're like, 6. They don't give a fuck. They'll see you as a threat to their success, and they WILL obliterate you."

"I'm a firm believer in that while you're young, you should take full advantage of the gifts of youth, even if it comes to bite you later. Case in point, a fast metabolism. I love food, and so do my cousins. We eat a lot. My Dad always tells us to be careful with our bodies, because once we hit our 30's, we can't eat the way we do and get away with it. And my Dad's a doctor, so he knows his shit, and he's a parent, so he cares about me and my cousins a lot. But the thing is, we're all in our late teens to early 20s. Bottom line, we don't care.

Our metabolism isn't gonna wait for us to turn 30 to work at its best. It's working at its best NOW, which means that we can eat whatever we want NOW. If 15 years later, it fucks up and we start gaining every pound we eat, that's a problem for the us of 15 years later. But now? Now, I can go with my cousins to Korean barbeque, and we'll piss off the owners who were stupid enough to put up the 'all-you-can-eat' deal, 'cause we will literally eat our BODY WEIGHT in barbeque. No cap. 

This one time we were literally paid to leave the restaurant, because we all ordered the all-you-can-eat deal, and we ended up staying in the restaurant for over four hours. Four whole hours. Just eating. Like we didn't talk much, we were just eating, and ordering, and eating some more. I'm pretty sure we finished a whole cow and a half. And get this, nobody in my family eats as well as my cousin Chenle. He's hella smart, and all that big brain energy's gotta come from somewhere, y'know? Like you don't wanna see him hungry, he turns into a moron. No thoughts, head empty. He needs to eat a lot to function.

So we're all sitting in the restaurant, eating. We're finishing plate after plate of beef, pork, chicken, whatever meat's on the menu—and veggies! Veggies are important. They've changed the grill for us five times already. There's a stack of plates off the side of the table, and none of us are full yet. Jisung's on his fourth bowl of rice. I'm grilling up a new plate of pork belly, and all the side dishes have been refilled at least thrice now. Mind you, there were like eight of us there, so a lotta mouths to feed, and we all came super hungry. The moment a piece of meat looks even remotely done, we're fighting over it. Chenle usually wins, 'cause y'know, the big brain needs a big amount of food. And he gets crabby, which is just a pain to deal with. So, we've already stayed past the lunch rush. It was like 3 PM then.

And this is how you know the people there are getting sick of you. The waiter comes to take our next order, and says, 'Can I get you guys any dessert?' Like he just wanted us to finish and get out. We say no, we're not done eating yet, and we each order another plate of meat. It seems like a lot, yeah? And it was, even if they're a bit stingy with their portions. So we kept ordering, and before we knew it, 4 hours passed and the restaurant workers were going nuts. The 'all-you-can-eat' deal was $30 a person, so it was $240 for our entire table, but we must've eaten almost $600 worth of meat, $700 to be generous. It was A LOT. And when we're close to being done, the owner comes up to us, and hands me $100. He says, 'Sir, we'll give you this reimbursement from your total bill. Please finish your meal soon and leave.' 

And who the hell am I to give up $100? So I take the money, we finish whatever we've got on the table, and leave. We go get dessert, and when dinner time rolls around, we hit up a different 'all-you-can-eat' Korean barbeque place, 'cause we haven't pissed off enough people yet."

"I dunno how many of you are like me—wait, don't answer that, that's completely rhetorical. I—what I meant to say, is that when I was younger, I had a code to speak to my parents with. Like a code word or phrase to let them know something's wrong or I don't wanna do something, because I was a socially awkward kid, and I didn't know how to interact with people, since I grew up sheltered. Four dads and a busload of helicopter cousins tend to do that to a person. I couldn't look people in the eye, I stuttered, and if it got real bad, I had anxiety attacks. It got better as I got older, obviously, 'cause otherwise I wouldn't be here, I'd be in therapy. 

But I remember once, in my junior year of high school, a dude asked me out, for the first time in my life, and I defaulted to my last resort to weasel my way out of that situation. The guy was alright, like as decent as any high school guy can get. My list of standards was only two pages long back then, okay? I was young and stupid, cut me some slack here. And I didn't even know what he saw in me, I was people repellant for all four years of high school. I had a faceful of acne, I hadn't grown into my body yet, so I'm all lanky, and I wore glasses with lenses so thick they could probably stop a bullet. No, for real, you can't tell now, 'cause I'm wearing contacts, but I'm almost legally blind. I needed those ice blocks to see.

Anyhow, the dude comes up to me after school, and I only have the faintest idea of who he is, 'cause I actually pay attention in class, and I saw him in a couple of mine. I'm out there, waiting for the bus, he comes up, and casually asks me out like we actually knew each other. Not gonna lie, it lowkey freaked me out, 'cause I was 16, I don't really know this dude, he's decently attractive, I've never been hit on before, I'm gay panicking. It wouldn't have nearly been as bad if I had my armor of cousins to shield me, but they weren't there that day, for whatever odd reason. I was alone and off-guard. And he asked a harmless question, like all he said to me was 'Hey, you're Jeno, right? Wanna get coffee with me?' Just coffee. It was something kids that age did all the time, but I'm a bit antisocial, and I didn't wanna go.

But I can't just say 'I'd rather the fuck not' to his face, that's a dick move. So I pull the emergency copout card, and I call one of my dads. But instead of addressing them as I usually would, I started talking all cute. It sounds stupid now, but it made sense at the time. So I call my Dad, and I go, 'Daddy, someone asked me out for coffee. Can I go, please?' And that's how my Dad knows that I really DON'T wanna go, save me, so he says no, and I have an excuse. It sounds wack, but it worked! He laid off, I'm left alone, and thank fuck for that.

I don't use that code anymore, though, 'cause I'm grown. I can't rely on my dads forever. So now, I rely on my cousins and the Jeno-saving service they got goin' on. If I'm hit on, I just call a cousin, and depending on my pick, I'm either taken away, or the dude's scared away."

"My Appa taught me a lot about being a good person, but there's just some lessons I don't agree with. Like I agree with most things he tells me, but I can never get behind the whole "forgive and forget" thing. And I know, don't hold grudges, don't be spiteful, but I DON'T agree. Like spite is a very powerful motivator. It gives us the drive we need to wake up in the morning and get shit done, solely 'cause someone said we couldn't, and we wanna prove 'em wrong. In fact, if it wasn't for spite, most of my family wouldn't be where they are today. 

Take my Dad, for example. He's a doctor. But do you seriously think that he became a doctor 'cause he really gives a shit about people's well-being? I mean, he might've given a shit at some point, but that's not the REAL reason he went through the hell that's med school. No, he went through med school 'cause one of his old teachers said he'll never be successful in life with his attitude—my Dad's a bit spicy, y'know?— and he was dead-set on proving that motherfucker wrong, so help him god. And guess what? It worked! And now he's a doctor. A surgeon, might I add. A neurosurgeon . And guess what? He's still got a hell of an attitude. He's just better at hiding it. So I'd say he's VERY successful. 

And it's not just him! My Uncle Ten's similar. He's a giant in the fashion world now, but he started with nothing. Just ideas, great dexterity, creativity, and a shitton of spite for the world. People like to look down on artists or take them for granted, y'know, the whole "starving artist" stereotype and whatnot, and my uncle wasn't having any of it. He worked his ass off as a designer. He didn't have money. He didn't have anything. But he had a vision, and guess where that vision landed him? Fucking New York Fashion Week. My uncle worked 14-hour days, every week, for almost three years to make his dream come true. And once it did, it revolutionized fashion. And I'm not saying it's some rags-to-riches miracle bullshit. He suffered. He almost gave up. But he hated people who belittle him. I mean, he hated people, period. So he dragged himself all the way to the top. Yeah. He's a god. And he deserves it! It's the power of spite! Spite creates greatness! It worked for my Dad and uncle's generation, and it's working for mine! 

Jaemin's running on the same spite that fueled my Dad, plus the competitiveness of today's STEM majors. Med school's gonna be a breeze for him. His hatred runs bone-fucking-deep. Yeah, it's all fun and games 'til you mention anything med-related to him. He'll get into this zone, and you can legit FEEL the hate just rolling off him. Does he wanna help people? I dunno, maybe. But he definitely wants to prove people wrong, and it's going great so far. He has straight-A's. He's interning at a hospital. He's on his way to greatness. 

And he's not the only one! My cousin Renjun's also spiteful, though he manifests it differently. I never talked about what he does, but he's an author. Yeah. He writes horror and thriller novels. How many of y'all read The Brain's Game? Okay, I see a couple hands. Alright. And how was it? Good? Scary? Very scary? Yeah, as it should be! Renjun's always been good at scaring the shit outta people. It's a skill he acquired after years of being compared to another sibling. He's got that need to prove himself, y'know? He's got that innate hatred of being compared, so he went and did something nobody else in my family could do, 'cause he's the only one morbid enough to do it. And that's giving people nightmares for years with 347 pages of paper. Yeah. If you ever decide to read The Brain's Game, it'll fuck you up. Even if you like horror. I read it. I got an autographed copy. I read it once, then I locked it in storage, 'cause I can't sleep if it's in the open. I still have nightmares about it, and I read it LAST YEAR. It's that fucking scary. And you can FEEL the hatred he poured into it, like every word is a direct attack at you. I don't even know WHY I decided to read it. I don't even LIKE horror. I knew it was gonna be bad, but no, I decided to be a good cousin, and fucked myself over.

And it gets better. Renjun wrote that book when he was 18, and published it when he was 20. It's his debut novel, and it became a bestseller. He didn't even major in English, he just liked to write. So if you wanna talk more about spite leading to success, there you have it. My Dad's saving lives outta spite. My uncle launched an empire outta spite. My cousin's learning to save lives outta spite. My other cousin became a bestseller outta spite. And I'm here, outta spite. So spite isn't a sin. It's a fucking game, and my family knows how to win it."

"If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I don't like violence. Yeah, it sounds a bit contradictory considering my family and I actively hunted a motherfucker down, but I really don't condone it. There's only one exception to that, and it's when someone hurts my family. But personally, I don't beef by fighting. I hate fights. It's a lose-lose for both parties involved, like why bother? All you're gonna do is put yourself at risk for cosmetic surgery, the fuck you tryna do? And do you really feel better after punching someone? You shouldn't. Why? 'Cause fighting's just immature. 

Like enough with the whole 'let's settle this like men' discourse, okay? Shut up. Stop. No. That's bullshit. If you've got beef with me, and you wanna settle a dispute like 'men', then tell you what, you settle it on my terms, on my turf.  Not to give me an advantage, but because settling things my way won't cost either of us an overpriced hospital trip. Like I'm NOT gonna fight you, so sit your ass down. Let's talk it out. And it's so funny, when you actually confront them calmly, they have no idea what to say. No fucking clue, beause they didn't expect you to actually be civil. And that's how you fucking WIN. If they can't even tell you what you did wrong, then you didn't do anything wrong! They're just being an asshole for the hell of it. Or they need therapy. Most likely both.

And of course, there's people who disagree with my philosophy. Some people here, some people in my family, and it's whatever, y'know? To each their own. I just don't prefer getting injured over something stupid. A lotta my cousins don't agree, though. But they don't beef by fighting, either. Oh, no. They get REAL creative. 

But I can't judge, 'cause I dunno what they're dealing with. So if you really wanna shoot someone in the ass with an arrow, go for it. If you wanna hack their school account and change their grades before final grades are due, knock yourself out. If you feel better 'accidentally' hip-checking a clay sculpture and ruining 150 hours of effort, fine. It's all good. But listen, if you wanna buy the spiciest hot sauce in the world, poke holes in their condoms, and soak them in the hot sauce, that's where I say what the fuck.  Like who hurt you? More so, HOW did they hurt you? What type of sleazy-ass shit did they pull to deserve head from Satan? And who were they WITH? Did THEY deserve to be fucked by Hell itself? Y'gotta hit me up with that story, dude. That's some god-tier level beefing, holy shit."

"I've come to a realization that there's not a single normal person in my family. Yeah, I know, with THOSE PEOPLE? No way. We're a mess. But I didn't actually realize how much of a mess we are 'til I talked with my cousin Shotaro. I guess he's the most normal one outta all of us. And I'm using the term 'normal' very loosely. What I mean by 'normal' is that outta everyone in my family, he's the least likely to pop off and start biting people for no damn reason. 

Like you think I'm normal, but no. I grew up in social isolation with 4 dads, I'm not normal. I'm just really good at passing as 'normal'. Yeah. You look at me and probably think, 'Yeah that guy's got his shit together'. And I do. More or less. But I also found my in-law based on nothing but his name and threatened a guy over a live comedy show, so am I really normal? Clearly not. And as I've learned, after comparing every other member of my family to Shotaro, nobody I'm related to is normal. Don't believe me? Hear me out. 

The other day, I was on a zoom call with my cousins. All of 'em. At the same time. Yeah. And we were playing a game, where it's basically just us answering a bunch of out-of-pocket questions. And one question happened to be, 'What would you do if you found your partner cheating on you?' And—yeah, it was a weird question, I get it—but we had to answer the question off the top of our heads. My cousins Mark and Lucas were just staring at each other, not saying a word. Silence. They're newlyweds, so I guess that's not the best question to ask them. We cut them some slack. But everyone else—hoo boy. Y'all wanna guess what we all answered? Take a wild guess. Anyone.

Okay, I'm hearing about dumping them. Burn their stuff, okay. Blackmail. Rob them blind, I love it. Call their parents? Oh sweetie, you're a saint. But yeah, y'wanna know what we all really answered? It was a unanimous decision. Same answer, different variations, and all agreed on.

Murder. Yes. My cousins and I all agreed, as a UNIT, that should our partners ever cheat on us, they get an automatic death sentence. All life privileges revoked asap. And yes, Mark and Lucas were in on the decision too. More reluctantly than the rest of us, but they still agreed when the final decision came. 

Some of y'all are probably thinking, 'But Jeno, didn't you say you hate violence?' Yeah, I do! I hate violence and fighting. But who the hell said that my partner was gonna die a VIOLENT death? By MY hands? There are options out there, people! We were listing them all down, and THAT'S how I discovered that my cousin Shotaro's the most normal one. We were listing so many different ways to take the cheater out, and it was getting real grisly. I won't go into the details, but it was bad. And creative. Some were super elaborate, I was impressed.

Anyways, amidst the talking about acids, comb daggers, dynamite, and a falling chandelier, my cousin Shotaro just unmutes himself and goes, 'Can't we just y'know, call the family? And then take the dude home?' And we all immediately shut up, 'cause he had a really good point. Whereas everyone else had plots leading to Europe and requiring a medical license, Shotaro saw the obvious staring us in the face. And it's true, like we've already proved it once over a breakup. So cheating? Does the guy honestly think he can escape our family? Not alive, no."

"People who sleep with pillows on their face scare me. Like how do you breathe? Are you alive? Are you dead? I can't tell. I saw baby Jisung sleeping like that once, and my first instinct was to take his pulse. He woke up and asked me what I'm doing. Like bitch, I'm tryna make sure you're alive!"

"I like being clean. I like my stuff organized, my shelves dusted, my mirrors clear, and my carpet vacuumed. But man, I HATE cleaning. Hate it with a passion. Yeah. But I still DO it. And I know a lotta people my age wouldn't, because cleaning's hard work and we've got better shit to do. But I just grew up with the habit, so now I'm stuck being a clean freak. And yeah, there's a lot about cleaning that sucks, but one thing I hate the most is disinfecting and scrubbing down EVERYTHING in the bathroom. Y'know what I mean? Yeah, you get me? I know, it's the WORST.

And I wouldn't complain if it's just me doing it, because then I can do things my way and get it over with. But no, some of my cousins are staying with me right now 'cause they're on break, and cleaning has become a family event. And now I dunno if I actually hate cleaning, or just THEM. Like my house is only big enough for two guests to begin with, but no, four of these motherfuckers came to live with me. Which means four times the mess, and four times harder we need to clean. My cousin Jaemin's with me, obviously, so are his brothers Chenle and Jisung, and our cousin Dejun. And don't get me wrong here, I love them all, but when you're already at your wit's end adulting, and you're hosting family, and said family consists of a med student and a microbio major, shit's bound to go down. Over cleaning. 'Cause Jaemin and Dejun are fuckin' germaphobes.

Here's what happened. We were cleaning together. Chenle's vacuuming, Jisung's taking out trash, and I'm wiping the mirrors when Jaemin comes bustin' into my bathroom, throws me a N-95, and tells me to get out. Like he's telling me to get out of my own bathroom. The audacity. But then I get why he told me that, 'cause Dejun comes in right after, lugging a gallon of bleach. A WHOLE GALLON. And he had one of those spray bottles, like the big ones that you gotta pump air into. They're both masked up, wearing rubber gloves, and Dejun's got goggles on.

And I’m just standing there, watching them and wondering like dude, you tryna clean the bathroom or exterminate something? And then I realize five minutes later, when the entire house smells like bleach, and Chenle's opened all the goddamn windows, that they ARE trying to exterminate something. And it's not just mold or bacteria. It's US."

"I think something people don't realize is that thirst-trapping is an art. Yeah, it's ART. It's not just horny people tryna get some online. No. It's a mix of photography, visual arts, anatomy, and physics. You think it's easy to post a single picture and have people thirstin’ over you? Look, if it's so easy, then you'd get dick pics sent to you over that dumbass selfie you took while you're half-past wasted on a Tuesday. But real talk, has that ever happened? To ANYONE? No! No, it hasn't, so don't talk to me about that shit being easy and sit the fuck down.

There is a PROCESS when it comes to creating a perfect thirst trap. And that's where all the photography, visual arts, anatomy, and physics skills come into play. You've gotta have a decent camera, and know how to use it. Phone, legit camera, it doesn't matter, just have one. Next, you gotta look the part. You need the right clothes—or lack thereof—and skincare so you don't look all crusty. If you wear makeup, the makeup's gotta complement the clothes. Then, you need a setting. You can't have other people around, and it's gotta be hella aesthetic. After that, you gotta figure out your poses and positioning so that you look desirable. Flex the right muscles, arch the right way, cross one leg just right, all that shit. And after you figure that out, you need the right lighting. Natural is best, but artificial works in a pinch, and once you find the right lighting, you need to figure out all your best angles so there's maximum sexiness in the finished result. One degree off, and instead of looking like sex on two legs, you'll look like a constipated doll, because it's no longer NATURAL. Make sense?

So now, you understand why the fuck thirst-trapping is an art? You get why my cousin Chenle would spend HOURS on the floor scribbling math equations to calculate angles and Donghyuck would swatch enough eyeshadow on his arm to give the color wheel a run for its money? Do y'all understand how this shit could take up an ENTIRE DAY? You get how all those hours go into picking the right clothes, picture location, lighting, angles, and poses? And all just for the attention of strangers online and a night of good dicking? Y'all get it now? Good.

That being said, Hendery you fuck, listen here. Figure this shit out yourself next time, or pay us. I bought you $40 worth of roses, Hyuck used up his primer, Jaemin's phone storage is full, and Chenle scratched my wall with his compass. We're your cousins, not your fucking production team."

"I strive to be the level of unproblematic my Uncle Jae is. Like I wanna reach the point where if I see someone get hit by a car, then a kid falling off a tree, and another guy getting his proposal rejected, I'll just continue sipping my coffee, 'cause none of it is my damn business."

"I recently went to visit my cousin Mark, and I knew right away that he hasn't slept in at least three days. At least . How? Because I brought him a burger, a bottle of hot sauce, and boba, and he stuck the straw into his burger, drank the hot sauce straight from the bottle, then bit the boba cup. He’s fine, if any of you are wondering. The man takes spice like a champ. Didn’t even blink when he downed half the bottle. Started crying a minute later, though, but I think it was due to stress and sleep-deprivation rather than the fact that he just drank an alarming amount of 250,000 scoville hot sauce."

"People have asked me how I'm so patient. Truth is, I'm really not. I have a big family and they drive me fucking insane. What I AM good at, though, is taking deep breaths and keeping my mouth shut. Yeah, I get annoyed, like everyone else, but I just don't get angry and lash out. Which, I guess, counts as patience. I'm definitely more patient than half of my family, though. If shit goes wrong, there's always a couple people who immediately flip their shit, others who take a deep breath and start cursing everything in existence, and the rest are just Uncle Jae.

It's a spectrum. We've got my cousin Renjun and his dynamite ass gunnin' after people with a swiffer on one end, my Uncle Jae and his iced mocha on the other, and everyone else just falls somewhere between those two. I'd say I'm somewhere in the middle. Like I don't explode, but I'll occasionally get pissed. And I wanna be like Uncle Jae, but his temperament is an unattainable standard, like many aspects of life. His temper is literally the emotional equivalent of Asian beauty standards. Completely unrealistic and probably unhealthy to some extent. 'Cause let's be real, there is NO WAY you can be that chill with everything and not have it bite you in the ass. Like one day, you're gonna cross the wrong asshole, and it's not gonna end well. I dunno, it hasn't happened yet, but I'm waiting for the day it does, for scientific purposes. 

In the meantime, I'm chillin' with the title of being the 'patient' family member, 'cause when shit does hit the fan, I'm not the one everyone immediately looks at, 'cause they know I wouldn't start shit. It's always the feisty ones. They're my family's designated scapegoats. They're the ones who take the rap for everything, whether they actually started shit or not. Like you can go stare at Renjun, who's probably beating the living daylights outta Hyuck, who's probably the one who actually started shit. Just don't look at me. Leave me outta this."

"If you still don't believe that my entire family's weird as hell, here, lemme tell you one of our family traditions. This is legit, I can't make this shit up. So, whenever my cousin Mark comes home for the holidays or whatever, 'cause y’know, he's always on tour, we do this thing where the week he's due to return from tour, everyone goes and buys a block of cheese. Hard cheese, not the soft spreadable types, and not sliced. It's gotta be a nice, chunky block. It's gotta be brick quality. So we all buy cheese, and we wait for him to come home. 

Then when he does come home, we take turns rubbing our cheese over his face. Why? 'Cause I dunno if you can tell, but Mark has LETHAL bone structure. Cheekbones, jawline—have you SEEN those angles? There is no way bone structure that sharp CAN'T manage to cut something, so we're all here tryna figure that shit out. Anyways, back to cheese. So we all rub our cheese on his face. And he can't hide, 'cause when he opens the door, there's Uncle Taeil with his cheddar block. When he enters the kitchen, my Appa's waiting with a triangle of Swiss. When he’s eating, Hyuck and Jaemin crowd him and sandwich him with pepper jack and provolone. When he goes to take a piss, Yangyang jumps out and smacks him with a block of unwrapped blue. Yeah, that's nasty, I know. And Yangyang has the balls to still EAT the cheese afterwards. Which,” he pauses and gags, “but I digress. There's no escaping the cheese facial when he comes home. Not even from my Dad, who gets right in there with some aged pecorino. And soon, holiday dinner just becomes a hunt-Mark-down-with-cheese free-for-all. The entire fam is just gunning for him.

And yeah, he hates it. Understandably so. He tried to avoid holiday dinner once, but then my Uncle Taeil called him, and obviously, he doesn't try that anymore. And it's great for the rest of us, but he is NOT safe. Not even when he hides behind me out of sheer desperation. Like I'm sorry, Mark. I love you, and I'll try to keep you safe from Dejun's colby, maybe Hendery's gouda, but I WILL ambush you at dessert, and I WILL hit you with my brick of parmesan. I don't care if it's the fifth time you washed your face tonight. And y'all, it gets better. Now that Mark's married, we got his husband into this. He doesn't know it yet, but we've hit up Lucas with the details, he sent us the date Mark comes home, and we're all going shopping together soon. Better yet, Lucas already picked out his cheese! Sharp cheddar, hickory-smoked. Mmm."

"I don't know a lot about the world, but I do know this—out of everyone in my family, my cousin Mark is the most likely to survive alone in the wild. He has this big 'ol bag, and it has EVERYTHING in it. And I mean EVERYTHING. Food, pens, self-defense items, and miscellaneous. True story, I asked for a hammer once, as a joke, and he just up and pulled one out. Like what the fuck. Why do you have a hammer? What are you gonna DO with that hammer? You’re a rapper with an entire horde of bodyguards everywhere you go, why do you need it? I asked him all that, and he just shrugged and said 'Never know'. So now I'm scared."

"I hate people telling me to ‘act my age’. It's like the moment I turn 21, people don't think I can enjoy fun things anymore. I'm too old to wear pastels. I'm too old to eat gummy worms. I'm too old to blow bubbles or use pool floaties. Apparently by 21, I'm too old for everything. I just gotta work as a slave to capitalism and be a bland-ass human being. Seriously, what's wrong with adults wanting to have a little fun? So many people are acting like I should be drafting up my will already. Like damn, chill. I ain't going anywhere. I just got out of being a teenager two years ago. My frontal lobe is still about four years from becoming fully developed. I'm a growing boy. I can still play, thank you very much. 

But no, apparently adults' version of 'playing' is just Vegas and sex. That's it. You either waste your money, or sleep around and risk catching an STD. What the fuck is that? You think that's fun ? I mean sure, if you're a millionaire and got great health insurance, knock yourself out. But not me. Like if people want me to act my age, okay. I'll act my age. I'll wear so many pastels it'll hurt your fucking eyes to look at.  I'll laze around on pool floaties. I'll get excited over cute plushies. Hell, I'll even jump rope. Like have you ever seen an adult man get together with his adult cousins and jump double dutch while singing 'ice cream, soda, cherry on top'? Well, now you have. And it was super fun. You’re welcome."

"An older woman, who was like, 60, once scolded me for cussing in public. What was interesting though, was that I didn’t even say anything particularly vulgar. I could’ve done much worse. Hell, I could’ve played my show on speaker. But literally, all I did was get my shirt stuck in my zipper and mumble ‘shit’ under my breath. So if anything, it’s kinda her fault for eavesdropping on my business. But then she said to me, and I quote, 'Young man, what would your parents think of your language?' And me, being the gentleman my parents raised me as, I finish prying my shirt out from my zipper and say to her, 'Ma'am, where the fuck do you think I got it from?'"

"Real talk though, a big family's stress. Like I love every one of them, but whenever we're all in the same place at the same time, I age a year per minute. They're great portioned, but whole? It’s impossible to even take a piss in peace. Someone’s always screaming. There’s always a 70% chance some sort of alarm is gonna go off. Alcohol flows like fucking water, and it’s like we’re all dehydrated. Bets are placed on how my Papa is going to the ER this time around, and Baba usually wins the pool. Jaemin and Dad always come with a full first-aid kit and a defibrillator, and eventually, we’re all just gonna pass out and wake up in some obscure area in somebody’s backyard with no idea how we got there or where half of our clothes are. And mind you, this isn’t a college campus. It’s just my family. I saw Uncle Taeil with three lit cigarettes in his mouth at one point during the last gathering, that's how stressful that shit was."