H'okai, so here's the earth. Here's San Francisco. (.) Yesterday (Oct. 3) I headed up to San Fran to hang out with my friend Kean who was in town for the USC vs. Cal game. Unfortunately, the beginning didn't start off well. I was planning to catch the 9:30 Marguerite shuttle in order to get to the CalTrain station in time to catch the 10:30 CalTrain. Well, much to my chagrin, I realized only when I got to the Marguerite stop that the Marguerite bus I was planning to catch didn't operate on the weekends. Fail #1. So instead, I started walking to the CalTrain station. It took me a good half hour, but my power walking did the trip and I arrived early. Kudos #1. Well, when I tried to buy my ticket, my card got an error reading three times (one time I inserted it wrong...) and I had to pay by cash instead. Fail #2. Luckily I had just the right amount of cash. Kudos #2.
When the Cal Train finally arrived, it was so packed with people that I had to find standing room only. And there were police who had arrived at the station while I was waiting, and they searched the train before it actually left, so I was stuck on a crowded train with nothing to do but hope half of the crazy looking people didn't attack me. Reason behind all this? It was Lovefest, and nobody had given me forewarning. Fail #3. (BTW, yes, I had mentioned that I was going to SF that day to a bunch of upperclassmen who were well aware of Lovefest). So on the train, I'm standing by people downing beers (already), a guy with a shirt that says "Dose Me," someone who's smoking a joint, and a girl who got high off of laughing gas (really, really, really extremely annoying). Fail #4. Luckily the conductor had a brain in his head to turn it into an express, so we skipped pretty much every stops except San Carlos, Millbrae, and San Francisco. Kudos #3.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Random Story of the Day
So today my roommate and I were just chilling in our dorm room with the door open. Two African American students came by and gave my roommate a small bag of candy with a little invitation attached.
They said, "Hey, welcome to Stanford! Come to the first BSU meeting!" (or something to that effect. BSU was definitely in there somewhere. After that, they turned around and left.
As they exited the door, my roommate asks, puzzled, "Wait, doesn't my roommate get an invitation too?"
The girls then reply, "Uhm, sure. I guess she could get an invitation and come too if she wanted..."
After they finally left, my roommate finally read the invitation and said, "Oh, they're black! Black Student Union." HAHAHAHA.
They said, "Hey, welcome to Stanford! Come to the first BSU meeting!" (or something to that effect. BSU was definitely in there somewhere. After that, they turned around and left.
As they exited the door, my roommate asks, puzzled, "Wait, doesn't my roommate get an invitation too?"
The girls then reply, "Uhm, sure. I guess she could get an invitation and come too if she wanted..."
After they finally left, my roommate finally read the invitation and said, "Oh, they're black! Black Student Union." HAHAHAHA.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Story of the Night
So there's this tiny spider that's been hanging out in the corner of the dorm room since forever and ever ago. It just hangs there and moves up and down every once in a while. Unfortunately, neither I nor my roommate wanted to kill it and we had yet to meet someone who would.
Tonight, we called our friend Josh into the room, and he picked up Malaika's (my roommate) huge water pack like he was going to toss it at the spider. She was yelling at him not to (of course), and he almost did, but he pulled a "psyche!" at the last minute. Next, he took up her shoes, and chucked them at the corner. It's a given that the aim was not fantastic, especially into a right corner angle of the room, so he missed a million times over and left a shoe mark on the wall. He tried tossing a shoe once again, and thought he made it, so the spider's body would drop down. Squealing like a little girl, he jumped back and pulled his arms to himself. It was hilarious! Malaika and I almost died laughing. Then he looked back up at the wall and said, "Dude, you have a black mark up there." Gee, I wonder who put it there? -_-;;
Luckily, the RA, D-Tran, a.k.a. Dr. Tran, stepped in to save the day. He borrowed Malaika's chair and a tissue and squished the poor little spider to death while thinking we were ridiculous for being so afraid of such a little thing. Yes, that's our life. Then he tried to convince us the spider wasn't really dead and it would come crawling back out of the trash can. Fantastic. Overall though the RA's pretty chill.
So I went party-hopping after that. Jumping through three frat parties in one night. Very interesting. Smells disgusting. Feels disgusting. Looks disgusting. Tastes disgusting. I've realized that having people hit me on the head because they're flailing like a dying fish in order to balance themselves while grinding on a girl since both that person and the girl are drunk is not my scene. No thanks, I like my head and I like my space. No grinding, no body-rubbing, and nothing awkward like dancing with the only friend who hasn't run off while both of you are sober. Doesn't work.
Tonight, we called our friend Josh into the room, and he picked up Malaika's (my roommate) huge water pack like he was going to toss it at the spider. She was yelling at him not to (of course), and he almost did, but he pulled a "psyche!" at the last minute. Next, he took up her shoes, and chucked them at the corner. It's a given that the aim was not fantastic, especially into a right corner angle of the room, so he missed a million times over and left a shoe mark on the wall. He tried tossing a shoe once again, and thought he made it, so the spider's body would drop down. Squealing like a little girl, he jumped back and pulled his arms to himself. It was hilarious! Malaika and I almost died laughing. Then he looked back up at the wall and said, "Dude, you have a black mark up there." Gee, I wonder who put it there? -_-;;
Luckily, the RA, D-Tran, a.k.a. Dr. Tran, stepped in to save the day. He borrowed Malaika's chair and a tissue and squished the poor little spider to death while thinking we were ridiculous for being so afraid of such a little thing. Yes, that's our life. Then he tried to convince us the spider wasn't really dead and it would come crawling back out of the trash can. Fantastic. Overall though the RA's pretty chill.
So I went party-hopping after that. Jumping through three frat parties in one night. Very interesting. Smells disgusting. Feels disgusting. Looks disgusting. Tastes disgusting. I've realized that having people hit me on the head because they're flailing like a dying fish in order to balance themselves while grinding on a girl since both that person and the girl are drunk is not my scene. No thanks, I like my head and I like my space. No grinding, no body-rubbing, and nothing awkward like dancing with the only friend who hasn't run off while both of you are sober. Doesn't work.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Belonging
As I wax nostalgic (yet again XP) I begin to think that this is a blog I should have written a long time ago. Over four years ago, actually.
So, in July of 2005, I found myself taking part in a summer program for eighth and ninth graders called the Oxford Prep Experience. Yes, this program was based in Oxford, United Kingdom (for more information, please refer to www.oxbridgeprograms.com). And the first official day of the program, ironically, happened to be July 4th. Needless to say, that was the first time I ever spent the fourth of July in the country that had the least reason to celebrate it. Or perhaps they had the most reason, if arguing along the lines of "look-at-that-one-trillion-dollar-debt-we-don't-have-to-pay-and-that-horrible-fashion-sense." The latter statement arises from a recent Gallup Poll that deemed the British to be in the top 3 most fashionably dressed tourists, along with the French and Italians. I digress.
Within three days of me being in the program, the directors and teachers were already telling us kids to call our parents and tell them that we were safe. Can you guess what happened? The July 7th bombing of the London Tube (subway system). It didn't seem like much at the time; I was in Oxford, and that happened to be two hours away from London, so I felt a bit indifferent to it. A week later though, on July 14th, my group was in London for our day-trip.
As the bus meandered through the packed city streets, we stopped suddenly. There was no honking from behind - all the cars surrounding us had stopped too. The bus driver turned on the radio solemnly and opened the door. Confused, all the students opened their windows too, wondering what the bus driver was waiting for. Glancing outside, we could see that everyone on the sidewalks and in the cafes, restaurants, and windows were standing still. It was eeriely quiet, as if a virus had swept, undetected, throughout the population, and none of the usual boisterous city noises could give voice to the harried emotions they were to express. A few bird chirps, some quiet engine motors, and perhaps babies crying or children whispering to their parents were all that convinced us we were still in reality.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio and said that the moment of silence observation for the victims of the July 7th bombing was beginning. It was a pleasant surprise to see that even people on the streets, without a radio near them, were observant of the time and the silence that was to be held then. As I sat quietly, my eyes darting around the bus and streets, I felt as if I was a part of the British community. It wasn't just that I was there at the moment and being silent out of respect - it was also that I had been in the country when the bombing happened, and I was in the city during the moment. It's not quite something I could put my finger on. Simply put, I felt more apart of the people and culture, in the midst of London during such a crucial moment, than I could have felt were I still in Oxford at the time.
Later in the day, the moment of silence forgotten, my teacher for my major class (International Relations) decided that we (my class) would visit the bunkers where Winston Churchill had stayed during WWII. I was a bit displeased - I had thought the London trip would be mostly free time, culminating in a play at the Globe Theater, but there was sense and reason in visiting the bunkers then. Upon resurfacing, I was hoping that I could ride the Tube in my free time, but I saw that the stations were closed in the fear of another repeat bombing. There actually had been a threat that day.The last Thursday that I spent in the United Kingdom there was yet another bomb threat.
It was a very surreal sense to be around when the British equivalent of 9/11 happened. Although I feel guilty for admitting it, by being that close and more aware of such events (thanks to my age and my class focus), I felt more affected by 7/7 than I ever did by 9/11.
I can't tell whether it was the summer program or the 7/7 events, but regardless, I think it's a part of the reason why I feel so strongly compelled to return to the United Kingdom for my study abroad, almost more so than I feel like going to Kyoto. But when I do not wax nostalgic, they are about even, with Kyoto as a front-runner since I've never been to Japan.
So, in July of 2005, I found myself taking part in a summer program for eighth and ninth graders called the Oxford Prep Experience. Yes, this program was based in Oxford, United Kingdom (for more information, please refer to www.oxbridgeprograms.com). And the first official day of the program, ironically, happened to be July 4th. Needless to say, that was the first time I ever spent the fourth of July in the country that had the least reason to celebrate it. Or perhaps they had the most reason, if arguing along the lines of "look-at-that-one-trillion-dollar-debt-we-don't-have-to-pay-and-that-horrible-fashion-sense." The latter statement arises from a recent Gallup Poll that deemed the British to be in the top 3 most fashionably dressed tourists, along with the French and Italians. I digress.
Within three days of me being in the program, the directors and teachers were already telling us kids to call our parents and tell them that we were safe. Can you guess what happened? The July 7th bombing of the London Tube (subway system). It didn't seem like much at the time; I was in Oxford, and that happened to be two hours away from London, so I felt a bit indifferent to it. A week later though, on July 14th, my group was in London for our day-trip.
As the bus meandered through the packed city streets, we stopped suddenly. There was no honking from behind - all the cars surrounding us had stopped too. The bus driver turned on the radio solemnly and opened the door. Confused, all the students opened their windows too, wondering what the bus driver was waiting for. Glancing outside, we could see that everyone on the sidewalks and in the cafes, restaurants, and windows were standing still. It was eeriely quiet, as if a virus had swept, undetected, throughout the population, and none of the usual boisterous city noises could give voice to the harried emotions they were to express. A few bird chirps, some quiet engine motors, and perhaps babies crying or children whispering to their parents were all that convinced us we were still in reality.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio and said that the moment of silence observation for the victims of the July 7th bombing was beginning. It was a pleasant surprise to see that even people on the streets, without a radio near them, were observant of the time and the silence that was to be held then. As I sat quietly, my eyes darting around the bus and streets, I felt as if I was a part of the British community. It wasn't just that I was there at the moment and being silent out of respect - it was also that I had been in the country when the bombing happened, and I was in the city during the moment. It's not quite something I could put my finger on. Simply put, I felt more apart of the people and culture, in the midst of London during such a crucial moment, than I could have felt were I still in Oxford at the time.
Later in the day, the moment of silence forgotten, my teacher for my major class (International Relations) decided that we (my class) would visit the bunkers where Winston Churchill had stayed during WWII. I was a bit displeased - I had thought the London trip would be mostly free time, culminating in a play at the Globe Theater, but there was sense and reason in visiting the bunkers then. Upon resurfacing, I was hoping that I could ride the Tube in my free time, but I saw that the stations were closed in the fear of another repeat bombing. There actually had been a threat that day.The last Thursday that I spent in the United Kingdom there was yet another bomb threat.
It was a very surreal sense to be around when the British equivalent of 9/11 happened. Although I feel guilty for admitting it, by being that close and more aware of such events (thanks to my age and my class focus), I felt more affected by 7/7 than I ever did by 9/11.
I can't tell whether it was the summer program or the 7/7 events, but regardless, I think it's a part of the reason why I feel so strongly compelled to return to the United Kingdom for my study abroad, almost more so than I feel like going to Kyoto. But when I do not wax nostalgic, they are about even, with Kyoto as a front-runner since I've never been to Japan.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Pre-Planning
I decided that it was high time that I did this. Since there are so many places where I would like to travel to, so many books that I would like to read, and so many movies that I would like to watch, I need to make comprehensive lists of them all. Of course, I doubt I can remember thing in one go, so this is a list that will be continuously updated.
TRAVEL
U.S.A.
-New York
-Washington D.C.
-Seattle
-Los Angeles
-San Francisco
-Houston
-Austin
-Orlando
-Miami
-New Orleans
-Chicago
-Columbus
-Detroit
-Santa Ana
-San Jose
-San Diego
-Phoenix
-Salt Lake City
-Butte
-Boise
-Portland
-Minneapolis
-St. Paul
-St. Louis
-Tallahassee
-Nashville
-Providence
-New Haven
-Philadelphia
-Boston
Canada:
-Vancouver
-Victoria Island
-Toronto
-Saskatchewan
-Ontario
Europe:
-Oxford
-London
-Cambridge
-Sussex
-Dublin
-Welsh
-Scotland
-Prague
-Florence
-Milan
-Rome
-Venice
-Luxembourg
-Berlin
-Moscow
-St. Petersburg
-Munich
-Vienna
-Paris
-Geneva
-Madrid
-Barcelona
-Oslo
-Stockholm
-Denmark
-Brussels
-Copenhagen (yes, falls in the Denmark category)
Asia:
-Beijing
-Shanghai
-Kyoto
-Osaka
-Tokyo
-Seoul
-Pyongyang (good luck with that one)
-Hanoi
-Saigon
-Phnom Penh
-Angkor Wat
-Burma
-Bali
-Mumbai
-Hong Kong
-Singapore
-Siberia
-Mongolia
Australia / New Zealand:
-Sydney
-Melbourne
-NZ
Middle East:
-Dubai
-Kabul
-Mecca
-Jerusalem
-Bethany
Africa:
-Cairo
-Rwanda
-Cape Town
TRAVEL
U.S.A.
-New York
-Washington D.C.
-Seattle
-Los Angeles
-San Francisco
-Houston
-Austin
-Orlando
-Miami
-New Orleans
-Chicago
-Columbus
-Detroit
-Santa Ana
-San Jose
-San Diego
-Phoenix
-Salt Lake City
-Butte
-Boise
-Portland
-Minneapolis
-St. Paul
-St. Louis
-Tallahassee
-Nashville
-Providence
-New Haven
-Philadelphia
-Boston
Canada:
-Vancouver
-Victoria Island
-Toronto
-Saskatchewan
-Ontario
Europe:
-Oxford
-London
-Cambridge
-Sussex
-Dublin
-Welsh
-Scotland
-Prague
-Florence
-Milan
-Rome
-Venice
-Luxembourg
-Berlin
-Moscow
-St. Petersburg
-Munich
-Vienna
-Paris
-Geneva
-Madrid
-Barcelona
-Oslo
-Stockholm
-Denmark
-Brussels
-Copenhagen (yes, falls in the Denmark category)
Asia:
-Beijing
-Shanghai
-Kyoto
-Osaka
-Tokyo
-Seoul
-Pyongyang (good luck with that one)
-Hanoi
-Saigon
-Phnom Penh
-Angkor Wat
-Burma
-Bali
-Mumbai
-Hong Kong
-Singapore
-Siberia
-Mongolia
Australia / New Zealand:
-Sydney
-Melbourne
-NZ
Middle East:
-Dubai
-Kabul
-Mecca
-Jerusalem
-Bethany
Africa:
-Cairo
-Rwanda
-Cape Town
Monday, June 29, 2009
Goody Two Shoes
Is who most people think I am. And honestly, for me, it's super hard to think of a moment, when people ask the question, "What's the craziest / riskiest / most insane thing you've ever done?" One day, it suddenly came upon me - the craziest thing I've ever done is something few others can claim.
I've been pulled over and searched for a suspected drive-by shooting.
So, my church hosts a yearly fund-raising dinner called "Bua Tiec Cong Duc." Back in the days (around 2005 or 2006), I attended this dinner, and frankly, I was bored out of my mind. Luckily for me, a few of my friends were also there, and, like me, bored.
We decided that we should head over to the Target plaza and buy ourselves a football. Now, this Target plaza was not any happy, white, middle-class, suburban SuperTarget plaza - it was run-down, ghetto, mainly Latinos, next to broken-down Lakeside (long forgotten, rickety, falling-apart amusement park), shut down mall Target plaza. It was a shady place, where anything could have happened.
My friends Kenny and Phillip decided to walk over to Target, while I, along with my friends Gary, Kevin, and Nick, decided to go to my friend Viet's car. Now, I was the only misplaced one in the story. Kenny and Viet were brothers, Nick and Gary were brothers, and Kevin and Phillip were brothers - all six were cousins. Me, I was just a friend (as obviously stated before). And the only girl to boot. Dressed in clothes that I normally, would not wear (in my opinion, I looked like a girl who got around). Anyways, I digress.
So, Kenny and Phillip, the two walking souls, approached the issue in a most unconventional way - they decided to walk through the back, poorly lit, pot-holed parking lot where there was a security / police office. Needless to say, none of us were made aware of this last detail until much later on in the story.
Viet, leaving a bit later because he had to go start the car and get everyone in, decided to drive the back way. We were not planning on the other two walking through the back of the plaza, but upon seeing their shadowy figures cross the forlorn parking lot, we decided it would be fun to chase them. Yes. Stupid.
So Viet, in his rush of adrenaline, shut off his headlights, rolled down the windows, and gunned his engine. The rest of us car occupants, laughing along, stick out heads out the open windows and start yelling at Kenny and Phillip. Those two, reveling in the fun of the moment, choose to run.
The expected happened. Viet started sending the car after them. And then Kenny and Phillip dash into a thick growth of tree in a hilly median that Viet's car could not dream to overcome. Instead, Viet starts to guide his car around and is speeding up the hill, hoping to intercept Kenny and Phillip at the top, when two blue cars box him in without any room to back out or pull forward.
Angry men with stereotypical mustaches, uniforms, and black leather belts, hop out of the truck and SUV, shining their flashlights into our eyes. They yell at us to get out of the car and put our hands on the hood and trunk. The two little boys, Kevin and Nick, got to watch the chaos from inside. My hands were on the trunk with Gary. Viet, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Being the driver, Viet was yanked rudely out of the driver's seat and thrown against the side of the car where he was forced to put his hands on the hood as they searched him over. Gary and I were given a quick over by the other guy, but not as thoroughly as Viet (being that we were both younger, without licenses of any sort, and, well, I was the only girl in the whole scene). When asked for our I.D.'s, Gary, with his ever jovial, upbeat tone of voice, pointed out that he was only 14. I peevishly stated that I had yet to bother with even getting a learner's permit. Throughout this hectic moment, we keep trying to convince the cops we meant no harm, and that Kenny and Phillip were related to us. Well, them, not me.
The first angry man starts yelling at Viet to get his driver's license (from his wallet, in the car), and has a baton or gun at Viet's back the entire time as Viet dug through his messily displaced possessions. Right about this moment, Kenny and Phillip, laughing merrily, decide to burst out of the trees to become our "saviours." Right.
Keeping on top of his game, the second officer yelled at Kenny and Phillip to put their hands on the hook of the security / police truck, and demanded an I.D. Phillip claimed he forgot his (I don't know if he even had one at the time), but Kenny had his.
Mister Security Cop Guy Number One decides to do a background check on the two people with I.D.'s, and upon glancing realized that they were telling the truth - Viet and Kenny were, indeed, brothers. Or at least living at the same address. Still, to save some face, or make it seem like he was a "tough guy," Mister Security Cop Guy Number One called up the police records people, gave over the names and I.D. numbers of Kenny and Viet, and made sure that their records were clean (which they were, fyi).
Afterwards, he gives us a brief, almost imperceptible apology, and tells us he thought we were trying to gun down Kenny and Phillip. We continue on to the buy the football, and as we leave, Viet clicks his engine into neutral, and Kevin climbs out of the car to see if he can push the car for fun. Another cop car comes up, watching us suspiciously, wondering if we were forcing a poor kid, aged maybe 10 or 11 at the time, to push the car.
As soon as Kevin climbed back into the car and we decided to seriously head back to the church, another car comes tailing Viet. We wonder if it's the security guys, back to harrass us, but when we give a closer inspection to the rearview mirror, and behind us, we see that it's a car with at least one Latino guy and one Latino girl. And they follow us almost all the way through the parking lot.
Freak, we were wondering where the security guys were then.
I've been pulled over and searched for a suspected drive-by shooting.
So, my church hosts a yearly fund-raising dinner called "Bua Tiec Cong Duc." Back in the days (around 2005 or 2006), I attended this dinner, and frankly, I was bored out of my mind. Luckily for me, a few of my friends were also there, and, like me, bored.
We decided that we should head over to the Target plaza and buy ourselves a football. Now, this Target plaza was not any happy, white, middle-class, suburban SuperTarget plaza - it was run-down, ghetto, mainly Latinos, next to broken-down Lakeside (long forgotten, rickety, falling-apart amusement park), shut down mall Target plaza. It was a shady place, where anything could have happened.
My friends Kenny and Phillip decided to walk over to Target, while I, along with my friends Gary, Kevin, and Nick, decided to go to my friend Viet's car. Now, I was the only misplaced one in the story. Kenny and Viet were brothers, Nick and Gary were brothers, and Kevin and Phillip were brothers - all six were cousins. Me, I was just a friend (as obviously stated before). And the only girl to boot. Dressed in clothes that I normally, would not wear (in my opinion, I looked like a girl who got around). Anyways, I digress.
So, Kenny and Phillip, the two walking souls, approached the issue in a most unconventional way - they decided to walk through the back, poorly lit, pot-holed parking lot where there was a security / police office. Needless to say, none of us were made aware of this last detail until much later on in the story.
Viet, leaving a bit later because he had to go start the car and get everyone in, decided to drive the back way. We were not planning on the other two walking through the back of the plaza, but upon seeing their shadowy figures cross the forlorn parking lot, we decided it would be fun to chase them. Yes. Stupid.
So Viet, in his rush of adrenaline, shut off his headlights, rolled down the windows, and gunned his engine. The rest of us car occupants, laughing along, stick out heads out the open windows and start yelling at Kenny and Phillip. Those two, reveling in the fun of the moment, choose to run.
The expected happened. Viet started sending the car after them. And then Kenny and Phillip dash into a thick growth of tree in a hilly median that Viet's car could not dream to overcome. Instead, Viet starts to guide his car around and is speeding up the hill, hoping to intercept Kenny and Phillip at the top, when two blue cars box him in without any room to back out or pull forward.
Angry men with stereotypical mustaches, uniforms, and black leather belts, hop out of the truck and SUV, shining their flashlights into our eyes. They yell at us to get out of the car and put our hands on the hood and trunk. The two little boys, Kevin and Nick, got to watch the chaos from inside. My hands were on the trunk with Gary. Viet, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Being the driver, Viet was yanked rudely out of the driver's seat and thrown against the side of the car where he was forced to put his hands on the hood as they searched him over. Gary and I were given a quick over by the other guy, but not as thoroughly as Viet (being that we were both younger, without licenses of any sort, and, well, I was the only girl in the whole scene). When asked for our I.D.'s, Gary, with his ever jovial, upbeat tone of voice, pointed out that he was only 14. I peevishly stated that I had yet to bother with even getting a learner's permit. Throughout this hectic moment, we keep trying to convince the cops we meant no harm, and that Kenny and Phillip were related to us. Well, them, not me.
The first angry man starts yelling at Viet to get his driver's license (from his wallet, in the car), and has a baton or gun at Viet's back the entire time as Viet dug through his messily displaced possessions. Right about this moment, Kenny and Phillip, laughing merrily, decide to burst out of the trees to become our "saviours." Right.
Keeping on top of his game, the second officer yelled at Kenny and Phillip to put their hands on the hook of the security / police truck, and demanded an I.D. Phillip claimed he forgot his (I don't know if he even had one at the time), but Kenny had his.
Mister Security Cop Guy Number One decides to do a background check on the two people with I.D.'s, and upon glancing realized that they were telling the truth - Viet and Kenny were, indeed, brothers. Or at least living at the same address. Still, to save some face, or make it seem like he was a "tough guy," Mister Security Cop Guy Number One called up the police records people, gave over the names and I.D. numbers of Kenny and Viet, and made sure that their records were clean (which they were, fyi).
Afterwards, he gives us a brief, almost imperceptible apology, and tells us he thought we were trying to gun down Kenny and Phillip. We continue on to the buy the football, and as we leave, Viet clicks his engine into neutral, and Kevin climbs out of the car to see if he can push the car for fun. Another cop car comes up, watching us suspiciously, wondering if we were forcing a poor kid, aged maybe 10 or 11 at the time, to push the car.
As soon as Kevin climbed back into the car and we decided to seriously head back to the church, another car comes tailing Viet. We wonder if it's the security guys, back to harrass us, but when we give a closer inspection to the rearview mirror, and behind us, we see that it's a car with at least one Latino guy and one Latino girl. And they follow us almost all the way through the parking lot.
Freak, we were wondering where the security guys were then.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Two Steps Forward
Have you ever realized how hard it is to coordinate your face? I mean, try smiling to your left and winking your right eye. Or vice-versa. Doing it at the same time, not just smiling, freezing the smile, and then winking.
Random fact: Americans spend $20 billion on ice-cream each year. $10 billion can solve world hunger. Therefore, Americans should stop eating ice-cream and start donating money. (Gotten from a senior project presentation)
Prom was fantastic. Dinner (sushi) was fabulous. We got ice-cream on the house. Green tea. And the Tropicana Roll (salmon and mango) was amazing.
I have a problem saying names. Britain's Got Talent's winner two or so seasons back is named Paul Potts. Except I kept calling him Pol Pot. So not good. And my little cousin, five, didn't even understand the reference, and he kept laughing, saying, "Haha, Pol Pot, that's funn-nee." Not really; it's sad that I confuse a man with talent with a man who kills his own people.
So I'm in the same class. Again. I really dislike this class. Or more correctly, I intensely dislike the teacher, and the sub today is no better.
Random fact: Americans spend $20 billion on ice-cream each year. $10 billion can solve world hunger. Therefore, Americans should stop eating ice-cream and start donating money. (Gotten from a senior project presentation)
Prom was fantastic. Dinner (sushi) was fabulous. We got ice-cream on the house. Green tea. And the Tropicana Roll (salmon and mango) was amazing.
I have a problem saying names. Britain's Got Talent's winner two or so seasons back is named Paul Potts. Except I kept calling him Pol Pot. So not good. And my little cousin, five, didn't even understand the reference, and he kept laughing, saying, "Haha, Pol Pot, that's funn-nee." Not really; it's sad that I confuse a man with talent with a man who kills his own people.
So I'm in the same class. Again. I really dislike this class. Or more correctly, I intensely dislike the teacher, and the sub today is no better.
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