Sean and Eric have been going out with their lovers for awhile, which kind of leaves Evan and I the bachelor's of the apartment.
A commercial came on. It was an ad for a rom-com opening on Valentine's day. It didn't look like anything significant until Sean commented, "Don't you think it's messed up for movies to open on Valentine's Day? A lot of people don't have valentines or significant others."
And as if to manifest fate itself, Evan and I turned our heads to gaze in each other's eyes simultaneously before bursting into laughter.
I can't tell if it's sad or hilarious.
Showing posts with label Sean Kutlay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sean Kutlay. Show all posts
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Keys
It was 4AM. I as working on an assignment, and by working I mean opening the assignment and procrastinating. Sean, too, was working on a project due the next morning. He came downstairs periodically to talk about fantasy football, so naturally, we were both working diligently.
I was downloading Spirited Away from Rapidshare. Unfortunately it's in parts, so I have to download 14 things. Regardless, Sean came down for what must have been hte fifth time, discussing players he wanted to trade and pretty much bragging about how good his team is.
"You wanna take a break?" he asks. I knew what he meant. Smoke break.
I declined.
"Alright, then. Your loss!" he smiled as he closed the door.
About fifteen minutes later I heard a rapping on my chamber door. "It's open," I called out, not wanting to take my eyes off some basketball blogs.
The knob turned back in forth. "It's not," Sean said. "What are you doing in there?"
"I didn't lock it!" I called out. I got up to open it. It wouldn't budge.
I turned the knob and pulled. It still wouldn't budge.
I look in between the cracks and saw this. The big part is called the latch bolt, and I think the small part is called the lock bolt. When you turn the door knob, the latch bolt turns. If the door is locked, the lock bolt somehow clings on to the latch bolt and neither go in. In this case, the latch bolt went in, but the lock bolt, the small one, was stuck.
So yes, I was locked IN my room.
I asked Sean to get my room key from Eric, who lives above me. We all switched rooms at the beginning of the semester, but our keys are all switched up because they gave us the keys based on our assigned rooms.
The key didn't work. Sean woke up Evan, who sleeps on our couch. As disgruntled as Evan was, he soon saw the hilarity of the situation.
"Hey Andrew," he asked me through the door. "Can I make one of your ramen noodles?"
"I don't think now's the time, dude...but if you're really hungry..."
It's okay, I thought. They'll think of something.
"Andrew," Sean called to me, trying to sound soothing. "Don't worry. Evan and I are brainstorming ideas to get you out of there...Hey, Evan. Can you put on Madden real quick?"
"Andrew," Evan would later ask me. "Can you take off the hinges of the door? Do you have a screwdriver out there?"
"Yeah. Let me check real quick," I replied. I shuffled through my drawers.
"Alright, guys. You still there?" I asked.
"Yeah. What'd you find?" they asked.
"Alright. I got a flashlight and a pair of fingernail clippers."
Needless to say, it didn't work.
So I ended up calling Public Safety. The door was broken down. I left my room.
How frustrating it was.
I was downloading Spirited Away from Rapidshare. Unfortunately it's in parts, so I have to download 14 things. Regardless, Sean came down for what must have been hte fifth time, discussing players he wanted to trade and pretty much bragging about how good his team is.
"You wanna take a break?" he asks. I knew what he meant. Smoke break.
I declined.
"Alright, then. Your loss!" he smiled as he closed the door.
About fifteen minutes later I heard a rapping on my chamber door. "It's open," I called out, not wanting to take my eyes off some basketball blogs.
The knob turned back in forth. "It's not," Sean said. "What are you doing in there?"
"I didn't lock it!" I called out. I got up to open it. It wouldn't budge.
I turned the knob and pulled. It still wouldn't budge.
I look in between the cracks and saw this. The big part is called the latch bolt, and I think the small part is called the lock bolt. When you turn the door knob, the latch bolt turns. If the door is locked, the lock bolt somehow clings on to the latch bolt and neither go in. In this case, the latch bolt went in, but the lock bolt, the small one, was stuck.
So yes, I was locked IN my room.
I asked Sean to get my room key from Eric, who lives above me. We all switched rooms at the beginning of the semester, but our keys are all switched up because they gave us the keys based on our assigned rooms.
The key didn't work. Sean woke up Evan, who sleeps on our couch. As disgruntled as Evan was, he soon saw the hilarity of the situation.
"Hey Andrew," he asked me through the door. "Can I make one of your ramen noodles?"
"I don't think now's the time, dude...but if you're really hungry..."
It's okay, I thought. They'll think of something.
"Andrew," Sean called to me, trying to sound soothing. "Don't worry. Evan and I are brainstorming ideas to get you out of there...Hey, Evan. Can you put on Madden real quick?"
"Andrew," Evan would later ask me. "Can you take off the hinges of the door? Do you have a screwdriver out there?"
"Yeah. Let me check real quick," I replied. I shuffled through my drawers.
"Alright, guys. You still there?" I asked.
"Yeah. What'd you find?" they asked.
"Alright. I got a flashlight and a pair of fingernail clippers."
Needless to say, it didn't work.
So I ended up calling Public Safety. The door was broken down. I left my room.
How frustrating it was.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Talks
I just had a talk with a friend. It was 10 minutes of genuine conversation, which is much more than I can boast for a lot of other people. We were discussing our personal views on relationships in general with regards to his situation.
Without going into further detail, I'd like to bring up a constantly used, if not outright cliche, metaphor: the half full/empty glass.
The glass being half empty means a person has a pessimistic viewpoint, while half full indicates an optimistic person. All is well, until my friend brought up the point of someone seeing the glass as overflowing.
A person who claims the glass is overflowing is a cynic, and probably a melodramatic or at least hyperbolic one at that. What others see as a good or bad scenario, the cynic sees as good, but probably bad in the long run.
Take for example a break-up. While some view break-ups as a learning experience, others a terrible misfortune (full, empty, respectively), the cynic would say, "Yeah, it could be a learning experience, but it probably shows how incompatible I am, and love doesn't exist."
Personally, I hate those people.
That's because I think that the glass is always empty. This puts me in the category of the cynical optimist. It's empty, life sucks, shit's gonna happen, but it can be filled, this glass.
Probably not, though. The glass is always empty, and we just have to deal with it.
What are you?
Without going into further detail, I'd like to bring up a constantly used, if not outright cliche, metaphor: the half full/empty glass.
The glass being half empty means a person has a pessimistic viewpoint, while half full indicates an optimistic person. All is well, until my friend brought up the point of someone seeing the glass as overflowing.
A person who claims the glass is overflowing is a cynic, and probably a melodramatic or at least hyperbolic one at that. What others see as a good or bad scenario, the cynic sees as good, but probably bad in the long run.
Take for example a break-up. While some view break-ups as a learning experience, others a terrible misfortune (full, empty, respectively), the cynic would say, "Yeah, it could be a learning experience, but it probably shows how incompatible I am, and love doesn't exist."
Personally, I hate those people.
That's because I think that the glass is always empty. This puts me in the category of the cynical optimist. It's empty, life sucks, shit's gonna happen, but it can be filled, this glass.
Probably not, though. The glass is always empty, and we just have to deal with it.
What are you?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Hard Palate
Today I had two dinners, one with one of my roommates and an almost roommate and one with some old fraternity brothers. Both dinners found me eating faster than I normally eat, and both were interesting in their content.
I found that my habits are slowly changing, possibly for the better. I can't sleep too late anymore, usually. Obviously, tonight and the last night may have been an interesting exception, but I feel as if I am finally making strides with what had once been a goal of self-discipline.
I am also now a vegetarian. To be specific, I am an ovo-lacto pescatarian, meaning I eat eggs, dairy products and seafood. I made this choice spontaneously. For those of you who don't know, I had already tried this diet for three-fourths of a year before I enrolled in college. However, upon seeing the dietary option available to me at the time, I chose not to continue that lifestyle. Now, though, a year removed from a new dining venue at my school, I feel that I have now been given an opportunity to pursue my previous lifestyle, just to see how it pans out.
I might start with eating meat only on Fridays, so as to keep myself in irony with the Catholic church, but after awhile, I might go full-time. We'll see.
I've been doing a lot of soul-searching, too. That is, I've been thinking a lot about what I want exactly and specifically. It has led me to some dark paths upon which I didn't really want to tread, but more importantly, it has forced me to think about myself, a pastime from which most of you now well know I will never shy away.
It's late, now, almost 6.
When I was younger, it would be just another day, but as it turns out, the combination of alcohol and good friends (and bad ones) has forced me to think further about my place in the social circle as well as my own public solitude.
I've learned a lot about myself.
Like when I'm hungry and tired, there is a very likely chance I am going to get hungrier and more tired trying to decide whether to eat or sleep.
Good night, dear friends. Nom nom.
I found that my habits are slowly changing, possibly for the better. I can't sleep too late anymore, usually. Obviously, tonight and the last night may have been an interesting exception, but I feel as if I am finally making strides with what had once been a goal of self-discipline.
I am also now a vegetarian. To be specific, I am an ovo-lacto pescatarian, meaning I eat eggs, dairy products and seafood. I made this choice spontaneously. For those of you who don't know, I had already tried this diet for three-fourths of a year before I enrolled in college. However, upon seeing the dietary option available to me at the time, I chose not to continue that lifestyle. Now, though, a year removed from a new dining venue at my school, I feel that I have now been given an opportunity to pursue my previous lifestyle, just to see how it pans out.
I might start with eating meat only on Fridays, so as to keep myself in irony with the Catholic church, but after awhile, I might go full-time. We'll see.
I've been doing a lot of soul-searching, too. That is, I've been thinking a lot about what I want exactly and specifically. It has led me to some dark paths upon which I didn't really want to tread, but more importantly, it has forced me to think about myself, a pastime from which most of you now well know I will never shy away.
It's late, now, almost 6.
When I was younger, it would be just another day, but as it turns out, the combination of alcohol and good friends (and bad ones) has forced me to think further about my place in the social circle as well as my own public solitude.
I've learned a lot about myself.
Like when I'm hungry and tired, there is a very likely chance I am going to get hungrier and more tired trying to decide whether to eat or sleep.
Good night, dear friends. Nom nom.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Coats
I have been at the receiving end of many a criticism regarding my choice of outer garment on days of questionable weather. Namely, I have been given incredulous looks when I wear coats on warm days. When I say warm, or when others think it's warm, I usually get these looks around 75 degrees Fahrenheit, when shorts and a t-shirt would more than suffice.
But I think that if the weather is below the 80 mark, a jacket or a long-sleeved article of clothing should at least be brought just in case you go somewhere cold. This has rarely failed me. Not since I was much younger did I find carrying a jacket or coat too inconvenient as to demerit a moment when I actually needed it. Many times I have been comfortable in colder-than-assumed conditions when others shiver.
A few months ago in Stockton, when the sun was happily shining around 75, I walked to the dining hall to eat with Sean and Eric (who happen to criticize me the most on this and give me often-to-the-point-of-you-should-know-me-by-now looks of question). I sit down and put my coat on the chair, Sean in a black tank top and Eric in a t-shirt. Well, soon after Eric left, it seemed to get a bit colder, so I put on my coat.
As I put it on, Sean says, "I'm cold too but I won't admit it because that would mean you're right."
Yesterday, on my way out of the house, I get in the car to go to church with my mom.
Says she, "Andrew, do you know how hot it is? Why are you wearing a jacket?"
"If you're shivering in church, mom," I replied, closing the door before we backed out of the driveway, "I'm not letting you borrow my jacket. You can freeze, and I'll be warm."
Sure enough, the fans of St. John the Baptist Church made it colder than usual and when my mom asked to borrow my jacket, chuckling as she did so, I chuckled with equal hilarity and shook my head while pretending to pray.
To those of you who argue that it's not worth carrying around, I have only to tell you that a jacket can easily be left in a car or hung on a chair, and it's worth it to have in case of those moments when you wish you had brought it.
Just a tip in case summer isn't as hot as you thought it would be, as is sometimes the case in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley.
Happy beaching!
But I think that if the weather is below the 80 mark, a jacket or a long-sleeved article of clothing should at least be brought just in case you go somewhere cold. This has rarely failed me. Not since I was much younger did I find carrying a jacket or coat too inconvenient as to demerit a moment when I actually needed it. Many times I have been comfortable in colder-than-assumed conditions when others shiver.
A few months ago in Stockton, when the sun was happily shining around 75, I walked to the dining hall to eat with Sean and Eric (who happen to criticize me the most on this and give me often-to-the-point-of-you-should-know-me-by-now looks of question). I sit down and put my coat on the chair, Sean in a black tank top and Eric in a t-shirt. Well, soon after Eric left, it seemed to get a bit colder, so I put on my coat.
As I put it on, Sean says, "I'm cold too but I won't admit it because that would mean you're right."
Yesterday, on my way out of the house, I get in the car to go to church with my mom.
Says she, "Andrew, do you know how hot it is? Why are you wearing a jacket?"
"If you're shivering in church, mom," I replied, closing the door before we backed out of the driveway, "I'm not letting you borrow my jacket. You can freeze, and I'll be warm."
Sure enough, the fans of St. John the Baptist Church made it colder than usual and when my mom asked to borrow my jacket, chuckling as she did so, I chuckled with equal hilarity and shook my head while pretending to pray.
To those of you who argue that it's not worth carrying around, I have only to tell you that a jacket can easily be left in a car or hung on a chair, and it's worth it to have in case of those moments when you wish you had brought it.
Just a tip in case summer isn't as hot as you thought it would be, as is sometimes the case in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley.
Happy beaching!
Friday, May 29, 2009
"But It's Summer"
This one's for Steph.
I know a few of my friends have been going through tough times. I've said what I can to quell the storm that is their emotions and their lives, but in the end, my words can only help so much.
I'm not trying to say that my words should be the cure to their problems or anything, far from it. I just try to do what I can, because it's sometimes just as difficult to see a friend or friends go through difficult times without being able to change anything directly.
All I can really say is that for me, patience usually wins out. Waiting for the pain and difficulty to subside is my favorite tactic.
No matter how shitty and shoddy things can get, things can get better. They also might get worse before they get better, but lives tend to be a combination of ups and downs, not just downs.
Life is, as Stephanie and I discussed, bittersweet.
So no matter how stormy things get, the rains and hurricanes that brew before you will weather down. No matter how horrid the flurries and blizzards may seem, the hardships of winter once seemingly insurmountable will be behind, and summer will arrive.
Life may hand you dirt on a platter, but it's summer.
Your friends may be deserting you, by their choice or not, but it's summer.
They may not be as attentive to you as you they, but it's summer.
Your lover may be gone forever, but it's summer. (He wasn't good enough for you anyways.)
Your confidence may not be always there, or you may feel like you're not the person people see you as. You may feel like there's a part of you that's missing, and you may not be able to figure it out. But it's summer.
Life is bittersweet like that.
Now someone, please help me fix my sticky "w" key. LASKDFJAL;SDKFJLASDFALSDFJ!
I know a few of my friends have been going through tough times. I've said what I can to quell the storm that is their emotions and their lives, but in the end, my words can only help so much.
I'm not trying to say that my words should be the cure to their problems or anything, far from it. I just try to do what I can, because it's sometimes just as difficult to see a friend or friends go through difficult times without being able to change anything directly.
All I can really say is that for me, patience usually wins out. Waiting for the pain and difficulty to subside is my favorite tactic.
No matter how shitty and shoddy things can get, things can get better. They also might get worse before they get better, but lives tend to be a combination of ups and downs, not just downs.
Life is, as Stephanie and I discussed, bittersweet.
So no matter how stormy things get, the rains and hurricanes that brew before you will weather down. No matter how horrid the flurries and blizzards may seem, the hardships of winter once seemingly insurmountable will be behind, and summer will arrive.
Life may hand you dirt on a platter, but it's summer.
Your friends may be deserting you, by their choice or not, but it's summer.
They may not be as attentive to you as you they, but it's summer.
Your lover may be gone forever, but it's summer. (He wasn't good enough for you anyways.)
Your confidence may not be always there, or you may feel like you're not the person people see you as. You may feel like there's a part of you that's missing, and you may not be able to figure it out. But it's summer.
Life is bittersweet like that.
Now someone, please help me fix my sticky "w" key. LASKDFJAL;SDKFJLASDFALSDFJ!
Friday, May 22, 2009
A Road Trip Later (cont'd)
When we passed the border, everything was so different.
Actually, the only things that were different were the units, i.e. km/h and cents/litre. Everything else was the same.
My first Canadian meal was at Milestone's, where our waitress was good-looking and gave us free a free spinach-dip with nachos. That was awesome. We also had a waitress ask us randomly how our food was, but in the end, we decided she wasn't a waitress at all, but someone posing as one to decide what to order...It was kind of weird.
The next day (Saturday) saw us wake up to get Sean signed up for the gym and run a few other errands. For dinner we went downtown to Calgary Tower.
"Hi," I said, addressing the waitress smilingly. I was ready to order. "I'd like the Fresh Fish of the Day, but please, please don't tell me the fish. I want it to be a surprise."
Without skipping a beat she said, "It's halibut."
Wtf? She caught herself right away, but still. How daft can you get? I wasn't angry since the halibut was exquisite, but it was still rather funny.
Afterwards, we walked a bit downtown to look at some of the avenues. We saw a few homeless people. We saw what we thought was a homeless couple.
"Excuse me, sir," one of them said, smiling toothily. He smelled of liquor. "Can you spare us a few dollars for our pursuit of hard liquor?"
I was caught off-guard, but before I could react, the indigenous lady said to me, "We can give you this shirt, if you'd like!"
She showed me a shirt from Spencer's displaying a cannabis leaf insignia. Below it read, "I'D HIT THAT," and below that was a large joint underlining the caption.
At first I was tempted, but we walked away, the three of us, brusquely. Two steps out, we stopped.
"Do you want a souvenir of your trip to Calgary?" asked Claire-Lise, Sean's sister.
"Yeah!" Sean interjected. "It would make for a great memory!"
So we turned around, and I gave them some change. And I got the shirt in return.
What impressed me most was how honest the homeless in Calgary were. In America you hear things like, "can you spare some change? I'm trying to catch the bus" or "Do you think you could help me out? I want to make a phone call."
But no, these bums were honest as hell. No lying or deception for Calgarians, homed or homeless, no. If they want money for liquor, that's bloody what they'll tell you. Anything else is just crass.
We also met Dave, who was very homeless. He had tried numerous shelters to no avail. He is one of the only Canadians I've heard use "eh?" in conversation, but he made up for the lack of it, using it at an average rate of .75 eh/ss (spoken second), a number not to be taken lightly.
Put it like this, .75 eh/ss is the same as 750 meh/ss.
And the three of us have some harsh words for Dave. His hygiene is just despicable. As his friends, we have decided to talk to him about it. I think Sean should, but we'll see. Dave just has to change. He can't go on living like this.
Anyways, The rest of the trip was fun. I bought some Canadian beer that night, and had to drink it all alone, since Sean is allergic, and Claire-Lise decided not to like beer. Canadian beer is a bit stronger, but hey, I liked it a lot. Plus, I was legal, so it made it even tastier.
That's it for my trip, really. The rest is rather ho-hum. I met Sean's friend Ashwin, who was hilarious. We somehow got him to leave his number for the waitress at Earls, who was very pretty.
Actually, Canadian girls are generally prettier than American girls, as I found out. They're nicer too.
I leave you, then, with a quotation that best represents the general attitude of our conversations for the weekend.
I was talking to Ashwin, "Are all your friends in the medical field somehow?"
"Almost, I think," he replied, thinking, as we were about to part our ways outside at earls's parking lot.
"Sean's going dentistry," he started. "Declan's medical, I think. I'm medical..."
"Oh, Tyler!" Sean said.
"What's he doing?" I asked.
"He's doing business with my sister," was Sean's accidentally genius reply.
Actually, the only things that were different were the units, i.e. km/h and cents/litre. Everything else was the same.
My first Canadian meal was at Milestone's, where our waitress was good-looking and gave us free a free spinach-dip with nachos. That was awesome. We also had a waitress ask us randomly how our food was, but in the end, we decided she wasn't a waitress at all, but someone posing as one to decide what to order...It was kind of weird.
The next day (Saturday) saw us wake up to get Sean signed up for the gym and run a few other errands. For dinner we went downtown to Calgary Tower.
"Hi," I said, addressing the waitress smilingly. I was ready to order. "I'd like the Fresh Fish of the Day, but please, please don't tell me the fish. I want it to be a surprise."
Without skipping a beat she said, "It's halibut."
Wtf? She caught herself right away, but still. How daft can you get? I wasn't angry since the halibut was exquisite, but it was still rather funny.
Afterwards, we walked a bit downtown to look at some of the avenues. We saw a few homeless people. We saw what we thought was a homeless couple.
"Excuse me, sir," one of them said, smiling toothily. He smelled of liquor. "Can you spare us a few dollars for our pursuit of hard liquor?"I was caught off-guard, but before I could react, the indigenous lady said to me, "We can give you this shirt, if you'd like!"
She showed me a shirt from Spencer's displaying a cannabis leaf insignia. Below it read, "I'D HIT THAT," and below that was a large joint underlining the caption.
At first I was tempted, but we walked away, the three of us, brusquely. Two steps out, we stopped.
"Do you want a souvenir of your trip to Calgary?" asked Claire-Lise, Sean's sister.
"Yeah!" Sean interjected. "It would make for a great memory!"
So we turned around, and I gave them some change. And I got the shirt in return.
What impressed me most was how honest the homeless in Calgary were. In America you hear things like, "can you spare some change? I'm trying to catch the bus" or "Do you think you could help me out? I want to make a phone call."
But no, these bums were honest as hell. No lying or deception for Calgarians, homed or homeless, no. If they want money for liquor, that's bloody what they'll tell you. Anything else is just crass.
We also met Dave, who was very homeless. He had tried numerous shelters to no avail. He is one of the only Canadians I've heard use "eh?" in conversation, but he made up for the lack of it, using it at an average rate of .75 eh/ss (spoken second), a number not to be taken lightly.
Put it like this, .75 eh/ss is the same as 750 meh/ss.
And the three of us have some harsh words for Dave. His hygiene is just despicable. As his friends, we have decided to talk to him about it. I think Sean should, but we'll see. Dave just has to change. He can't go on living like this.
Anyways, The rest of the trip was fun. I bought some Canadian beer that night, and had to drink it all alone, since Sean is allergic, and Claire-Lise decided not to like beer. Canadian beer is a bit stronger, but hey, I liked it a lot. Plus, I was legal, so it made it even tastier.
That's it for my trip, really. The rest is rather ho-hum. I met Sean's friend Ashwin, who was hilarious. We somehow got him to leave his number for the waitress at Earls, who was very pretty.
Actually, Canadian girls are generally prettier than American girls, as I found out. They're nicer too.
I leave you, then, with a quotation that best represents the general attitude of our conversations for the weekend.
I was talking to Ashwin, "Are all your friends in the medical field somehow?"
"Almost, I think," he replied, thinking, as we were about to part our ways outside at earls's parking lot.
"Sean's going dentistry," he started. "Declan's medical, I think. I'm medical..."
"Oh, Tyler!" Sean said.
"What's he doing?" I asked.
"He's doing business with my sister," was Sean's accidentally genius reply.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
A Road Trip Later
Finals were over, and I had smelled the spicy scent of freedom in the air, like the chili you know you will not be able to handle but still enjoy smelling regardless. Sure, I had started a Restaurant City account (more on that tragedy later). Sure, I was still at school days after my last final. Sure, I had only a week before summer school started and grades would (unfortunately) be out. Yeah, I had failed a final or two, but at the very, very least, I was finished with the semester.
I hung around Pacific for a day or two before taking the last of my stuff home on the immediate Sunday following my Friday final. On Thursday after everyone's last final, I planned to drive up to Canada with my good friend Sean (not Eric). But for a few days at least, I was free, free at last. (Actually, I ended up writing an essay or two before Wednesday, but it was still awesome the lack of responsibility.)
I think I overuse parentheses.
Thursday morning rolled around. My week was finally over. Seven straight sunrises I had seen and gleaned, and I knew Wednesday night had to change. So Thursday morning rolled around, finding me woken up at 7:45AM simply by the sheer excitement of leaving Stockton, officially ending the months of existence that I thought akin to prison but must concede to label "school."
Oh, I know why the caged bird sings, alright.
Yes, I just compared the life of the average college student to the plight of pre-Civil Rights Era blacks. I am indeed a Renaissance man.
We dropped Eric off at Sacramento Airport, about an hour north of Stockton. I was forced into the cubbyhole backseat, not unlike the ones my father used to describe to me when he was escaping the warfare in Vietnam.
Yes, I just compared sitting in the a cramped back seat to the struggles of Vietnamese refugees escaping a war-torn country, harrowingly haunted by the napalm and smell of burning flesh that followed them until they left in the barren waters that still held no promises.
But Eric left, and gave me a hug. I say this because his goddamn cologne (perfume) stuck on my collar for about 10 hours. It's like he never left at all.
As Sean and I drove past Truckee, we noticed the Sierra Nevada hills, and we agreed that a camera would have been nice. Man, those hills scream vista and beauty.
We stopped at Reno for lunch, at a place called the "Wild River Grille." According to Sean, they had the best bread, at least for a (turkey) burger. I had a salmon wrap that was superb. We continued to trek across the Nevada desert, rarely stopping and using smallish towns as milestones to mark our travel. In the process, we came to the conclusion that Sean's car should be named Jenna. It has something to do with Moses. Ask me if you're really curious.
We also started calling each other S-Man and A-Dawg. It had something to do with the town of Elko, NV ("The Heart of Northeast Nevada"). The website says to "take a moment to explore the "City" of Elko and all it has to offer!" because it really only takes a moment to explore all Elko has to offer.
But take it from S-Man and A-Dawg. That moment may be one of the greatest moments you'll ever have while exploring. Elko has loads to offer. Like the Fire Science Academy. And Metro Gasoline...
Both were lame. One was defunct and decrepit.
In Elko, we had a chat about whether to take a different route or not. It would be about the same distance as the previous one, but would cut through Utah, which I wanted to do, just to say we went through Utah. However, we agreed to stay on course and just take the original route to be safe.
Instead we missed the exits to both routes and ended up in Utah regardless of our intentions. West Wendover, NV-UT was our destination, to be precise.
We only crossed the border of Utah for about 50 yards, but we stopped at a gas station 50 yards in Utah, realizing that Utah was definitely NOT a part of our road plans. Sean got an apple and a coffee, and I bought a hot dog.
As we drove back into Nevada (which took about a minute since we were so close to the NV-UT border), we both agreed: Utah has the best apples, coffees and hot dogs. Damn that hot dog was good. I got one in Idaho, and it wasn't even CLOSE to the quality of dog I experienced in Utah.
Anyways, we drove up to Idaho and believe me you, Idaho is by far the WORST state. It's so bland and boring.
I swear, when we got to Montana, everything was just so much better. I recommend that everyone experience a Montana sunrise. Since it was so early, few cars were on the road. Thus, I was "allowed" to go 100-115 on the highway uncontested. Those damn mountains were so goddamn beautiful I have to swear to describe them.
Actually, Sean described them best when he said that Canadian mountains were better.
Said Sean, "These snow-capped mountains look like they're wearing a yarmulke while the Canadian mountains are wearing KKK hoods."
True dat.
vs.
When we were driving in Montana, a tantalizing 60 miles south of the border (it's weird from that perspective, isn't it?), Sean was pulled over for going 90 miles on a 75mph stretch. The fine was $40, which had to be paid right there. The cop was nice, but he would have been nicer if he let us go. So close. I actually thought it would be a good revenge idea to go outside and take a dump in the grass while the cop was looking up the information. Sean was against it.
Anyways, we stopped by Helena, Montana for some breakfast. By breakfast I mean Sean and I both had burgers. Eric called shortly thereafter, as he does twice daily to see how Sean is doing, and when I told him we were in Montana, well, it was funny.
"Where are you guys right now?" Eric asked through the reception-seeking phone.
"We're in Helena," I replied. I fielded a look from Sean, shaking his head.
There was a silence in the car magnified to me by the silence on the phone.
"...Is that in North Dakota or South Dakota?" Eric asked hesitantly.
I laughed, but Sean said he didn't know it either. He said he doubted most people knew...which makes me the abnormal one.
Dammit. Talk about story of my life.
I'll have more to come later!
I hung around Pacific for a day or two before taking the last of my stuff home on the immediate Sunday following my Friday final. On Thursday after everyone's last final, I planned to drive up to Canada with my good friend Sean (not Eric). But for a few days at least, I was free, free at last. (Actually, I ended up writing an essay or two before Wednesday, but it was still awesome the lack of responsibility.)
I think I overuse parentheses.
Thursday morning rolled around. My week was finally over. Seven straight sunrises I had seen and gleaned, and I knew Wednesday night had to change. So Thursday morning rolled around, finding me woken up at 7:45AM simply by the sheer excitement of leaving Stockton, officially ending the months of existence that I thought akin to prison but must concede to label "school."
Oh, I know why the caged bird sings, alright.
Yes, I just compared the life of the average college student to the plight of pre-Civil Rights Era blacks. I am indeed a Renaissance man.
We dropped Eric off at Sacramento Airport, about an hour north of Stockton. I was forced into the cubbyhole backseat, not unlike the ones my father used to describe to me when he was escaping the warfare in Vietnam.
Yes, I just compared sitting in the a cramped back seat to the struggles of Vietnamese refugees escaping a war-torn country, harrowingly haunted by the napalm and smell of burning flesh that followed them until they left in the barren waters that still held no promises.
But Eric left, and gave me a hug. I say this because his goddamn cologne (perfume) stuck on my collar for about 10 hours. It's like he never left at all.
As Sean and I drove past Truckee, we noticed the Sierra Nevada hills, and we agreed that a camera would have been nice. Man, those hills scream vista and beauty.
We stopped at Reno for lunch, at a place called the "Wild River Grille." According to Sean, they had the best bread, at least for a (turkey) burger. I had a salmon wrap that was superb. We continued to trek across the Nevada desert, rarely stopping and using smallish towns as milestones to mark our travel. In the process, we came to the conclusion that Sean's car should be named Jenna. It has something to do with Moses. Ask me if you're really curious.We also started calling each other S-Man and A-Dawg. It had something to do with the town of Elko, NV ("The Heart of Northeast Nevada"). The website says to "take a moment to explore the "City" of Elko and all it has to offer!" because it really only takes a moment to explore all Elko has to offer.
But take it from S-Man and A-Dawg. That moment may be one of the greatest moments you'll ever have while exploring. Elko has loads to offer. Like the Fire Science Academy. And Metro Gasoline...
Both were lame. One was defunct and decrepit.
In Elko, we had a chat about whether to take a different route or not. It would be about the same distance as the previous one, but would cut through Utah, which I wanted to do, just to say we went through Utah. However, we agreed to stay on course and just take the original route to be safe.
Instead we missed the exits to both routes and ended up in Utah regardless of our intentions. West Wendover, NV-UT was our destination, to be precise.
We only crossed the border of Utah for about 50 yards, but we stopped at a gas station 50 yards in Utah, realizing that Utah was definitely NOT a part of our road plans. Sean got an apple and a coffee, and I bought a hot dog.
As we drove back into Nevada (which took about a minute since we were so close to the NV-UT border), we both agreed: Utah has the best apples, coffees and hot dogs. Damn that hot dog was good. I got one in Idaho, and it wasn't even CLOSE to the quality of dog I experienced in Utah.
Anyways, we drove up to Idaho and believe me you, Idaho is by far the WORST state. It's so bland and boring.
I swear, when we got to Montana, everything was just so much better. I recommend that everyone experience a Montana sunrise. Since it was so early, few cars were on the road. Thus, I was "allowed" to go 100-115 on the highway uncontested. Those damn mountains were so goddamn beautiful I have to swear to describe them.
Actually, Sean described them best when he said that Canadian mountains were better.
Said Sean, "These snow-capped mountains look like they're wearing a yarmulke while the Canadian mountains are wearing KKK hoods."
True dat.
vs.
When we were driving in Montana, a tantalizing 60 miles south of the border (it's weird from that perspective, isn't it?), Sean was pulled over for going 90 miles on a 75mph stretch. The fine was $40, which had to be paid right there. The cop was nice, but he would have been nicer if he let us go. So close. I actually thought it would be a good revenge idea to go outside and take a dump in the grass while the cop was looking up the information. Sean was against it.
Anyways, we stopped by Helena, Montana for some breakfast. By breakfast I mean Sean and I both had burgers. Eric called shortly thereafter, as he does twice daily to see how Sean is doing, and when I told him we were in Montana, well, it was funny.
"Where are you guys right now?" Eric asked through the reception-seeking phone.
"We're in Helena," I replied. I fielded a look from Sean, shaking his head.
There was a silence in the car magnified to me by the silence on the phone.
"...Is that in North Dakota or South Dakota?" Eric asked hesitantly.
I laughed, but Sean said he didn't know it either. He said he doubted most people knew...which makes me the abnormal one.
Dammit. Talk about story of my life.
I'll have more to come later!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Fizz THIS, physics!
I had an interesting talk with Sean and Eric today.
It was short, but very profound. Michael even had some input.
To keep it brief, it went along the lines of, "Andrew, get the fuck out of our room. We're trying to sleep."
GIRUGAMESH!
Eric Woo is an interesting character. I'm glad to be living under him next year. I'm only saying that because he reads my blog (not Sean).
Anyways, sometimes I spend lots of time in Sean and Eric's room. Now, there are probably trillions of things I could say about that particular room in Casa Werner, but I'll spare you the (often) gory details.
Eric likes to webcam with his girlfriend a lot. I get it. Love. Or whatever.
Oftentimes when I'm in the room, Eric just chills with his girlfriend, Kelly, on the webcam. Her face is always on his screen, or at least moving in and out of focus as he changes his windows. Sometimes the window with her face isn't showing, but it's definitely minimized, or behind, ready to be opened at Eric's whim. Thus, she can always see what's happening in his room and he hers. They don't always talk, just kind of simulate each other's company the best they can. Therefore, since she's so far away, her window is always on. I mean ALWAYS. All the more power to them, I suppose. Love, or whatever, right?
Anyways, while Eric was chillaxin' in the bathroom the other day, I was talking with Sean and decided to weigh myself. I put the scale in front of Eric's desk, but before I could weigh myself, Sean interjected, "Don't weigh yourself with jeans, dude. It's going to add at least two pounds."
So, being as comfortable as I am around my friends, I took off my pants and jacket and shirt, pretty much stripping down to my boxers and one sock. This was at Sean's request actually. I guess he has a limit.
I weigh myself, a modest 168 pounds, and it goes on pretty much without incident. Then, for some reason, Sean and I thought it'd be hilarious if Eric came back to the room as I was weighing myself almost butt naked and just staring at the door on the scale. So, I proceed to stand there, keeping myself busy by checking out my rippling abdominal muscle (yes, just one) until Eric returned, where I would be sure to reward myself with laughter at his expression.
It all worked according to plan. Eric opened the door and gave me a really funny look, and I, still standing on the scale in front of his desk near naked, burst out in laughter. Sean and Eric chuckled as well, but Eric was chuckling for a different reason.
Sorry, Kelly.
It was short, but very profound. Michael even had some input.
To keep it brief, it went along the lines of, "Andrew, get the fuck out of our room. We're trying to sleep."
GIRUGAMESH!
Eric Woo is an interesting character. I'm glad to be living under him next year. I'm only saying that because he reads my blog (not Sean).
Anyways, sometimes I spend lots of time in Sean and Eric's room. Now, there are probably trillions of things I could say about that particular room in Casa Werner, but I'll spare you the (often) gory details.
Eric likes to webcam with his girlfriend a lot. I get it. Love. Or whatever.
Oftentimes when I'm in the room, Eric just chills with his girlfriend, Kelly, on the webcam. Her face is always on his screen, or at least moving in and out of focus as he changes his windows. Sometimes the window with her face isn't showing, but it's definitely minimized, or behind, ready to be opened at Eric's whim. Thus, she can always see what's happening in his room and he hers. They don't always talk, just kind of simulate each other's company the best they can. Therefore, since she's so far away, her window is always on. I mean ALWAYS. All the more power to them, I suppose. Love, or whatever, right?
Anyways, while Eric was chillaxin' in the bathroom the other day, I was talking with Sean and decided to weigh myself. I put the scale in front of Eric's desk, but before I could weigh myself, Sean interjected, "Don't weigh yourself with jeans, dude. It's going to add at least two pounds."
So, being as comfortable as I am around my friends, I took off my pants and jacket and shirt, pretty much stripping down to my boxers and one sock. This was at Sean's request actually. I guess he has a limit.
I weigh myself, a modest 168 pounds, and it goes on pretty much without incident. Then, for some reason, Sean and I thought it'd be hilarious if Eric came back to the room as I was weighing myself almost butt naked and just staring at the door on the scale. So, I proceed to stand there, keeping myself busy by checking out my rippling abdominal muscle (yes, just one) until Eric returned, where I would be sure to reward myself with laughter at his expression.
It all worked according to plan. Eric opened the door and gave me a really funny look, and I, still standing on the scale in front of his desk near naked, burst out in laughter. Sean and Eric chuckled as well, but Eric was chuckling for a different reason.
Sorry, Kelly.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
My Day
Today was arguably the worst day I've had all semester, yet for some reason, I felt a (probably false) sense of contentedness and joy. I spent most of today, as I latterly do, alone.
I went to sleep at a late hour, greeting the sun at its early yawn before I tucked myself into the comforts of my static electricity-infested Asian mink blanket.
I then woke up for my 8AM class.
Normally, my friend, Naman Desai, wakes up around 7:30. He doesn't look at the clock in the early hours of the morn, but rather, simply times himself. By the time he finishes his morning routine, he has a few minutes before he has to leave for class. Thus, if he finishes his routine and doesn't see his friends up, he calls them to make sure they go to class. Good friend, good intentions.
But Craig Jeong (or Jeongward as we call him these days), who is Naman's roommate, decides to set his alarm for 7AM this morning instead of the customary 7:30AM. Thus, Naman does his morning routine and wakes me up when he finishes...at 7:20AM.
My alarm goes off at 7:35AM, so when Naman called, it was 15 minutes early. For some reason, in my groggy stupor, I just said, "Alright. I'm getting up." I looked at my clock, but it didn't register to me as being too early. When Naman calls me, I'm usually late, so I think I just took it all in stride and got ready.
And I finished at 7:30AM, 5 minutes before my alarm would even go off.
Needless to say, when I had realized what happened, I was pissed that I lost sleep. However, that anger was quickly replaced by my plan to sleep straight through my Anatomy lecture unnoticed. The class is fairly large, so I knew from prior experience that I could sleep as long as I blended in with the other students.
Unfortunately, all my plans went askew as class began.
Dr. Anderson had a bone to pick with us. It wasn't quite the same bone Shenzi picked with Scar, but it was similar. He was mad that many people were whining about one question on the last quiz. This question was worth 2 points. In a course with 1400 points, this was fairly negligible. However, not only was he angry about the very vocal minority who whined to him, his anger was increased tenfold when he heard complaints of the question being "unfair."
Now, Dr. Anderson has his ups and downs (ask Eric Woo), but he has also given us 2 free points on every quiz. A quiz that has 15 questions usually contains a bogus question, so as to ease our anxieties about our grade, or simply because he's nice. I don't know his reason, but I don't question it.
Dr. Anderson argued that if he took that question out of the last quiz, then he should take all the "free" questions out of the other quizzes in order to be "fair." This was obviously met with criticism, and thus, Dr. Anderson asked for our input, challenging us to find a compelling reason for him not to take away the points.
One person said that the syllabus already established the point total, so it would be inconvenient at best to change it this late in the semester. Dr. Anderson countered by pointing out that the first thing in the syllabus says, "I reserve the right to change anything." He calls it his "God clause."
Dr. Anderson thus says that he's allowed to give and take points as he pleases.
The good Doctor giveth, and the good Doctor taketh away. That's God, Ph. D., for you, folks.
I voiced my opinion, convincing him that the students do realize that he is the God of the lecture hall, and that's why sometimes we complain, because we know he has that power. That's why we go to class, our biweekly church, to show him our attendance rate, because we know he controls the fate of our grade. That's why we go to his office hours, our Holy Days of obligation, to show that we care about the class, and we love Anatomy, our academic religion. But in the end, the good Doctor giveth, and He can certainly taketh away.
However, my anger did not stem from the arbitrary nature of his points. I could care less. Just work hard and make him laugh, and you'll be fine, I say. My anger stems from the fact that right after I spoke, voicing my opinions, offering my prayers to the good Doctor Himself, he took mental note of me. That means he noticed me. That means that I couldn't go unnoticed. That means that I couldn't sleep.
I was frustrated, but this quickly subsided because I had hours before my next class to sleep. So I got back to my room after Anatomy with the intention of sleeping until my next class. As I set my alarm, I hear the loud rumble, similar to a leaf blower. I look outside and on the building adjacent to mine, they were fixing the roof with a random machine. A loud machine. I told Stephanie this already, but it sounded like the gargling of a lion with lung cancer. Or a dragon. Why do you need a dragon to fix the roof?!
Again, for the third time, now, I was vexed nearing my limit. So I closed my roommate's window, and texted him to inform him. That's when I found out my phone had been disconnected because I forgot to pay yesterday.
My anger was calm, even though it was the fourth transgression upon me in a very early day. It was easy to pay. I just needed to do it online, like I do every month, and in an hour or so, probably when I wake up, I'll have service again. So I go online. It normally goes smoothly, but this time the card number was rejected.
Five times this morning was I subject to ill-will. Five small, but still irksome, annoyances greeted me.
Any other day, I would have been angry beyond measurement. But I felt okay for some reason. I wasn't pissed, but just felt like sleep would make it okay. I didn't have time to be angry because I had to study for my Lab Practical. I calmed myself, and took a quick nap. Realizing that I lost sleep in the morning, during lecture, and before noon because of the loudness, realizing that my phone was dead, my (dad's) card number rejected, thus freezing my telephone capabilities for the rest of the day, realizing that I was having a horrid day, I was still okay.
Then I got a text message from Sean, and I realized that while my phone was dead, I could still receive but not send text messages.
And I was fucking livid.
I went to sleep at a late hour, greeting the sun at its early yawn before I tucked myself into the comforts of my static electricity-infested Asian mink blanket.I then woke up for my 8AM class.
Normally, my friend, Naman Desai, wakes up around 7:30. He doesn't look at the clock in the early hours of the morn, but rather, simply times himself. By the time he finishes his morning routine, he has a few minutes before he has to leave for class. Thus, if he finishes his routine and doesn't see his friends up, he calls them to make sure they go to class. Good friend, good intentions.
But Craig Jeong (or Jeongward as we call him these days), who is Naman's roommate, decides to set his alarm for 7AM this morning instead of the customary 7:30AM. Thus, Naman does his morning routine and wakes me up when he finishes...at 7:20AM.
My alarm goes off at 7:35AM, so when Naman called, it was 15 minutes early. For some reason, in my groggy stupor, I just said, "Alright. I'm getting up." I looked at my clock, but it didn't register to me as being too early. When Naman calls me, I'm usually late, so I think I just took it all in stride and got ready.
And I finished at 7:30AM, 5 minutes before my alarm would even go off.
Needless to say, when I had realized what happened, I was pissed that I lost sleep. However, that anger was quickly replaced by my plan to sleep straight through my Anatomy lecture unnoticed. The class is fairly large, so I knew from prior experience that I could sleep as long as I blended in with the other students.
Unfortunately, all my plans went askew as class began.
Dr. Anderson had a bone to pick with us. It wasn't quite the same bone Shenzi picked with Scar, but it was similar. He was mad that many people were whining about one question on the last quiz. This question was worth 2 points. In a course with 1400 points, this was fairly negligible. However, not only was he angry about the very vocal minority who whined to him, his anger was increased tenfold when he heard complaints of the question being "unfair."
Now, Dr. Anderson has his ups and downs (ask Eric Woo), but he has also given us 2 free points on every quiz. A quiz that has 15 questions usually contains a bogus question, so as to ease our anxieties about our grade, or simply because he's nice. I don't know his reason, but I don't question it.
Dr. Anderson argued that if he took that question out of the last quiz, then he should take all the "free" questions out of the other quizzes in order to be "fair." This was obviously met with criticism, and thus, Dr. Anderson asked for our input, challenging us to find a compelling reason for him not to take away the points.
One person said that the syllabus already established the point total, so it would be inconvenient at best to change it this late in the semester. Dr. Anderson countered by pointing out that the first thing in the syllabus says, "I reserve the right to change anything." He calls it his "God clause."
Dr. Anderson thus says that he's allowed to give and take points as he pleases.
The good Doctor giveth, and the good Doctor taketh away. That's God, Ph. D., for you, folks.
I voiced my opinion, convincing him that the students do realize that he is the God of the lecture hall, and that's why sometimes we complain, because we know he has that power. That's why we go to class, our biweekly church, to show him our attendance rate, because we know he controls the fate of our grade. That's why we go to his office hours, our Holy Days of obligation, to show that we care about the class, and we love Anatomy, our academic religion. But in the end, the good Doctor giveth, and He can certainly taketh away.
However, my anger did not stem from the arbitrary nature of his points. I could care less. Just work hard and make him laugh, and you'll be fine, I say. My anger stems from the fact that right after I spoke, voicing my opinions, offering my prayers to the good Doctor Himself, he took mental note of me. That means he noticed me. That means that I couldn't go unnoticed. That means that I couldn't sleep.
I was frustrated, but this quickly subsided because I had hours before my next class to sleep. So I got back to my room after Anatomy with the intention of sleeping until my next class. As I set my alarm, I hear the loud rumble, similar to a leaf blower. I look outside and on the building adjacent to mine, they were fixing the roof with a random machine. A loud machine. I told Stephanie this already, but it sounded like the gargling of a lion with lung cancer. Or a dragon. Why do you need a dragon to fix the roof?!
Again, for the third time, now, I was vexed nearing my limit. So I closed my roommate's window, and texted him to inform him. That's when I found out my phone had been disconnected because I forgot to pay yesterday.
My anger was calm, even though it was the fourth transgression upon me in a very early day. It was easy to pay. I just needed to do it online, like I do every month, and in an hour or so, probably when I wake up, I'll have service again. So I go online. It normally goes smoothly, but this time the card number was rejected.
Five times this morning was I subject to ill-will. Five small, but still irksome, annoyances greeted me.
Any other day, I would have been angry beyond measurement. But I felt okay for some reason. I wasn't pissed, but just felt like sleep would make it okay. I didn't have time to be angry because I had to study for my Lab Practical. I calmed myself, and took a quick nap. Realizing that I lost sleep in the morning, during lecture, and before noon because of the loudness, realizing that my phone was dead, my (dad's) card number rejected, thus freezing my telephone capabilities for the rest of the day, realizing that I was having a horrid day, I was still okay.
Then I got a text message from Sean, and I realized that while my phone was dead, I could still receive but not send text messages.
And I was fucking livid.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Santa Clara County Libary - Milpitas
Spring break is officially upon me. Today, the 9th of March, marks the Monday that is Spring Break. Already, my weekend has graced me with heart-pulsing stories, gulps of gleeful laughter and adventurous tales of danger and daring.
However, one of the more exciting of these tales comes not during the days off, but rather, during the last day of school. Last Thursday, a few friends decided to get dinner for Sean's birthday. Those in attendance included Charles, Wooster, Jag, Michael, Thinh, Sean and myself.
Since it was his birthday, Sean chose to go to BJ's Brewery. On a Thursday night, restaurants are not usually crowded, and tonight was no exception. Thus, the service would supposedly be faster by compare.
Tonight was, in fact, an exception.
There were various complaints with the waitress, from her being too slow to her forgetting the surprise birthday Pizookie. My own personal complaint was that her voice was overly obnoxious and that she used it too much. If it were one or the other, I wouldn't have minded.
So, after a dinner replete with horrible service, Eric, Michael and I left early to get Eric to pep band practice. It was a good dinner, actually, as is any dinner with such company. Hilarity always inevitably accompanies meals with those particular friends. Yet, had the service been a bit better, I am sure we would have enjoyed ourselves more immensely, or immenselier.
Back at school, as Michael and I were talking, the rest of the group returns. Jag, Charles, Thinh and Sean return laughing and smiling. This is what happened:
After we left, the Pizookie arrived. Sean claims it was cold and she had just taken it out of a to-go box and put it on the platter. Obviously this was the last straw. Sean then proceeded to complain to the waitress (whose name was Cindy as I recall). She was evidently ashamed and let Sean talk to the manager.
The manager then offered to give everyone free Pizookies. However, Sean observed that almost half the party had left already and the Pizookie was beside the point. So, the manager offered him to pay for the meal.
A free meal.
We tried to take Sean out for his birthday, paying for him and everything, and he ended up nabbing US a free meal.
Something about this is backwards.
However, one of the more exciting of these tales comes not during the days off, but rather, during the last day of school. Last Thursday, a few friends decided to get dinner for Sean's birthday. Those in attendance included Charles, Wooster, Jag, Michael, Thinh, Sean and myself.
Since it was his birthday, Sean chose to go to BJ's Brewery. On a Thursday night, restaurants are not usually crowded, and tonight was no exception. Thus, the service would supposedly be faster by compare.
Tonight was, in fact, an exception.
There were various complaints with the waitress, from her being too slow to her forgetting the surprise birthday Pizookie. My own personal complaint was that her voice was overly obnoxious and that she used it too much. If it were one or the other, I wouldn't have minded.
So, after a dinner replete with horrible service, Eric, Michael and I left early to get Eric to pep band practice. It was a good dinner, actually, as is any dinner with such company. Hilarity always inevitably accompanies meals with those particular friends. Yet, had the service been a bit better, I am sure we would have enjoyed ourselves more immensely, or immenselier.
Back at school, as Michael and I were talking, the rest of the group returns. Jag, Charles, Thinh and Sean return laughing and smiling. This is what happened:
After we left, the Pizookie arrived. Sean claims it was cold and she had just taken it out of a to-go box and put it on the platter. Obviously this was the last straw. Sean then proceeded to complain to the waitress (whose name was Cindy as I recall). She was evidently ashamed and let Sean talk to the manager.
The manager then offered to give everyone free Pizookies. However, Sean observed that almost half the party had left already and the Pizookie was beside the point. So, the manager offered him to pay for the meal.
A free meal.
We tried to take Sean out for his birthday, paying for him and everything, and he ended up nabbing US a free meal.
Something about this is backwards.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Facebook Hiatus
I promised Stephanie I'd mention her in my next entry, so there. I just did.
She claims to have sent me a Valentine, but I refuse to believe her until it gets in my mailbox. I hope it comes. =)
Honestly, this is my first Valentine's Day where I find myself not pursuing a valentine since I was in 8th grade. I'm not saying this for any particular purpose other than the observation that I think it's actually quite nice. The majority of my day was spent studying, without any internet connection, as is the tradition in the Nguyen household.
When school is in session, the internet is subject to a chaotic and varied schedule. In short, the schedule-maker (or "Father" as some call him) decides on whim when to disconnect it and reconnect it. I actually am able to understand the topological concept of homeomorphism better than I can understand daddy's whims.
So yes, although not necessarily my original plan, I spent the day alone. Valentine's Day was actually nice, knowing that it wasn't any special day at all. In fact, all holidays are human devices, and there is no significance to any particular day...
So, Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I hope you're all lonely.
The other day, I challenged Quyen in Word Challenge. As some of you know, the WC application on Facebook allows you to duel your friends in a Mano Mano sense. However, although I had been actively participating in challenges from Quyen and to Quyen, this particular challenge was different.
For starters, this challenge did not involve the the "Challenge!" part of the application. It in fact involved the personal, original portion of the game, your personal High Score.
Let me set this up.
Quyen and I have faced each other on the Word Field (as I like to call it) many times before. And while I consider her my protege of sorts, I still refuse to show her mercy. I made that mistake one time already, when distracted by the inescapable allure of Skype conference calls. I had stopped playing around the minute mark, believing my modest score of 19,000 would be sufficient. However, to my utter dismay, Quyen was able to beat me by 2,000.
I didn't make that mistake again. She did, however, eventually beat me one more time, by 200. However, since I have won the majority of the challenges, I wanted a more competitive battlefield. So this happened:
After a particularly pathetic few scores, none of which I lost, fortunately, I told Quyen that I would challenge her once more and get 40,000 points. I called it, and I did it, eclipsing the 41K mark. She responded to the challenge accordingly, and to my utter shock, she got 39K.
This is impressive on two levels. Firstly, her previous high score ever was around 28K. Furthermore, she achieved this noteworthy score of 39K on a challenge. Not only that, 39K is well above my normal average, so on almost all the other challenges, she would have beaten me...except this one. Only Quyen can tell you the extent of her anger.
Then, I proposed a real challenge. I said to her, "Why don't we play for something?"
To which she replied, "Like what? -_-" still obviously depressed about her recent loss.
"I'm not sure," I thought aloud. "How about I have to get 50K and you have to get 35K in real mode before the end of the week?"
It was an equal challenge, I argued, for both. She had only passed the 35K mark once and I had only passed the 50K mark once. My highest score ever was 54K, so it's not easy for me.
She agreed, and we set the terms. If I lost, I had to tell her the secret to the Cereal Box Game, which, as I recall, only Loc, Bethany, Harry, Anna and I know. Oh, and probably Matt. Quyen REALLY wanted to know.
If she lost, however, meaning 1. I eclipsed 50K and she didn't get higher than 35K or 2. I got over 50K more than she got over 35K, then she would have to send me a work of poetry she wrote. She never told me she wrote any, but I assumed she did. I think I'm right.
That night, while "studying" at the library, I logged onto Facebook to get higher than 50K. While in the middle of a game, I realized how stupid this was, how I was going to fail school spending hours and hours playing this stupid game, for this stupid bet. I didn't mind losing. I just wanted to stop.
So I planned to end my Facebook addiction by giving my password to Sean. He changed it like a good friend would. And with that, my FB minutes were cut off.
However, before I logged off, I wanted to play one more game, just to see what would happen. I had already given up, in essence. I just wanted one last taste of Word Challenge before my Facebook Hiatus.
And I got 64,000.
GG.
She claims to have sent me a Valentine, but I refuse to believe her until it gets in my mailbox. I hope it comes. =)
Honestly, this is my first Valentine's Day where I find myself not pursuing a valentine since I was in 8th grade. I'm not saying this for any particular purpose other than the observation that I think it's actually quite nice. The majority of my day was spent studying, without any internet connection, as is the tradition in the Nguyen household.
When school is in session, the internet is subject to a chaotic and varied schedule. In short, the schedule-maker (or "Father" as some call him) decides on whim when to disconnect it and reconnect it. I actually am able to understand the topological concept of homeomorphism better than I can understand daddy's whims.
So yes, although not necessarily my original plan, I spent the day alone. Valentine's Day was actually nice, knowing that it wasn't any special day at all. In fact, all holidays are human devices, and there is no significance to any particular day...
So, Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I hope you're all lonely.
The other day, I challenged Quyen in Word Challenge. As some of you know, the WC application on Facebook allows you to duel your friends in a Mano Mano sense. However, although I had been actively participating in challenges from Quyen and to Quyen, this particular challenge was different.
For starters, this challenge did not involve the the "Challenge!" part of the application. It in fact involved the personal, original portion of the game, your personal High Score.
Let me set this up.
Quyen and I have faced each other on the Word Field (as I like to call it) many times before. And while I consider her my protege of sorts, I still refuse to show her mercy. I made that mistake one time already, when distracted by the inescapable allure of Skype conference calls. I had stopped playing around the minute mark, believing my modest score of 19,000 would be sufficient. However, to my utter dismay, Quyen was able to beat me by 2,000.
I didn't make that mistake again. She did, however, eventually beat me one more time, by 200. However, since I have won the majority of the challenges, I wanted a more competitive battlefield. So this happened:
After a particularly pathetic few scores, none of which I lost, fortunately, I told Quyen that I would challenge her once more and get 40,000 points. I called it, and I did it, eclipsing the 41K mark. She responded to the challenge accordingly, and to my utter shock, she got 39K.
This is impressive on two levels. Firstly, her previous high score ever was around 28K. Furthermore, she achieved this noteworthy score of 39K on a challenge. Not only that, 39K is well above my normal average, so on almost all the other challenges, she would have beaten me...except this one. Only Quyen can tell you the extent of her anger.
Then, I proposed a real challenge. I said to her, "Why don't we play for something?"
To which she replied, "Like what? -_-" still obviously depressed about her recent loss.
"I'm not sure," I thought aloud. "How about I have to get 50K and you have to get 35K in real mode before the end of the week?"
It was an equal challenge, I argued, for both. She had only passed the 35K mark once and I had only passed the 50K mark once. My highest score ever was 54K, so it's not easy for me.
She agreed, and we set the terms. If I lost, I had to tell her the secret to the Cereal Box Game, which, as I recall, only Loc, Bethany, Harry, Anna and I know. Oh, and probably Matt. Quyen REALLY wanted to know.
If she lost, however, meaning 1. I eclipsed 50K and she didn't get higher than 35K or 2. I got over 50K more than she got over 35K, then she would have to send me a work of poetry she wrote. She never told me she wrote any, but I assumed she did. I think I'm right.
That night, while "studying" at the library, I logged onto Facebook to get higher than 50K. While in the middle of a game, I realized how stupid this was, how I was going to fail school spending hours and hours playing this stupid game, for this stupid bet. I didn't mind losing. I just wanted to stop.
So I planned to end my Facebook addiction by giving my password to Sean. He changed it like a good friend would. And with that, my FB minutes were cut off.
However, before I logged off, I wanted to play one more game, just to see what would happen. I had already given up, in essence. I just wanted one last taste of Word Challenge before my Facebook Hiatus.
And I got 64,000.
GG.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Matthew Strikes Again (Feb. 2)
SO. I'm checkin' out Matt's Xanga (which all of you should follow) and he asked his readers to do something, so instead of studying for physics, I'll do it.
"24 HOURS TO LIVE! (AKA 24 HOURS UNTIL YOU DIE)
Must Have...
- Minimum 8 Hours of Sleep
- Freedom to go anywhere (instant transporation)
- Can go with anyone you want, or alone, at any time
- At some point in the day, you must take two tests (15 minutes each)
- One of the tests must be a rigorous academic subject that you are good at
- The other test must be on an academic subject that you care about the most/are most interested in
- If you pass these two tests, you will be able to fix any significant social/political problem in the world. What would you fix?
- Where do you go, who is with you, and what do you do there?
12 AM -
1AM -
2AM -
3AM -
4AM -
5AM -
6AM -
7AM -
8AM -
9AM -
10AM -
11AM -
12PM -
1PM -
2PM -
3PM -
4PM -
5PM -
6PM -
7PM -
8PM -
9PM -
10PM -
11PM -
12AM -
What would you do?
Places to go?
Activities?
Abilities?
People?
Interests?
Concerns?
Talk to me about it after... If enough people fill it out, I'll type up mine! :D!"
12AM-5AM: I'll sleep and wake up just before the sunrise, so I can catch it one last time with the woman I love on a beach somewhere nowhere near civilization. I know, I know. Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "No way Andrew can get up that early! Freakin' lazy-ass mother fu-" But this is a hypothetical so just let me have my fun, ok? =)
5AM-7AM: I'd eat breakfast with aforementioned woman while watching the sunrise. We'll talk and laugh and just be all smiles. Breakfast will include sausages and eggs and tater tots. Wait, wtf? That's what I eat at the dining hall...talk about pathetic aspirations. Anyways, the food itself hardly matters, as long as I get to eat something and enjoy my morning.
7AM-10AM: After I eat and watch the sunrise and change my Facebook status accordingly, I'd take a 3 hour nap. I freakin' woke up hella early!
"Andrew Nguyen just had an amazing morning with [insert name here], watching the sun rise on a deserted island and enjoying each other's company! About 2 minutes ago. - Comment"
10AM-11AM: I'd take my two tests. The first one would be an essay test. I'd probably take the essay portion of the SAT I again, since I did pretty well every time I took it. Then, after those first 15 minutes, I'd take a 30 minute break to cram for a Human Anatomy test, which is the required course I'm taking now for my degree, leading the way to a dental school acceptance hopefully. The world problem I'd fix would be world hunger. I think everyone should have a chance to be nourished. That way, they can be healthy to make good decisions. I just want everyone to be happy =)
11AM-12:30PM: I'll probably go to Church. I want it to be a Sunday celebration, with one of my friends presiding, and any other friends who happen to be priests also present behind the alter. Also behind the alter I'd like Cha Tri Dinh, simply because he really, really, really knows how to help out alter servers. Yes, I'm speaking as the voice of experience. Matt and I would have walked around aimlessly without him.
Also, I'd like the FLOCK Choir to sing for mass. The gathering song will be "Go to Distance" from Hercules. I want Tri Phan and Thuy Angela to sing the Responsorial Psalm and generally lead the vocals with the rest of FLOCK backing them up. Anh Hoan will conduct and My will be on piano when she's not singing. The music will be the Mass of Glory setting by Bob Hurd. I'd like to be the one to deliver the homily, giving insights about my life and my observations. I'd make it as funny as possible too so that Jesus himself will un-nail himself from the cross to slap his knee and clutch his ribs.
I hope water doesn't spill out, though.
Ok, ok, I'm going to hell, I know.
The Nicene Creed will be sung in Vietnamese as Kinh Tin Kính even though technically, it's missing some parts. Also, the peace-giving part will be long like it is at Youth Mass because everyone will give everyone a hug. The congregation will consist of all my friends, if they so choose to come. Normally, I hate it when that part lasts a long time, not because I don't like to extend peace, but because some people give peace while others stand around uncomfortably. If everyone was involved and it was long, I wouldn't mind. I just don't like leaving people out. That's why when I sang in FLOCK, I was the first one back to the choir section, ready to sing the Lamb of God. I don't like leaving members of the congregation out.
Anywho, after communion (which will feature "The Servant Song" as the song), FLOCK will regale us with a meditation song. I'm thinking Irish Blessing, but it could be anything as long as it's pretty. The last song will be "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. It will be sung by Josh Groban and Mariah Carey, since I think they have the two best voices for their genders in the world.
12:30PM-2:30PM: I'll have lunch with my friends. It will be at a Pho luncheon where we can order plates that a restaurant would normally serve. I'll probably go with some Com Tam dish. Lunch will probably be with my Dong Hanh friends and whoever else went to church like Pray4Fun, my Pacific friends, Boy Scout friends, Bellarmine friends, anyone. We'll pay for the priests. It'd be a lot of fun, like the DHDH meals we had or any meal with Sean, Eric and Michael, haha.
2:30PM-5PM: Hang out at a remote beach with all my friends. Just enjoy the sun and laugh and play. Build sand castles, play football, bury people, argue with Michael Lai, etc.
5PM-6PM: Play basketball. It doesn't matter with whom as long as the games are competitive and fun. I'd actually like to play at American Airlines Stadium where the Dallas Mavericks play cuz I think it's one of the nicest stadiums in the NBA. Actually, it'd be cool to play in front of a sell-out crowd. The game wouldn't be as polished as an NBA game, but if it's competitive then it'll be fun to play and watch too.
6PM-6:30PM: Shower.
6:30PM-8:30PM: Play mafia with anyone who wants to play. Attendance is only required for my brother, cuz he knows how to make it interesting. We'd play on the beach and watch the sun set. We'd play until we need to light torches to see the cards.
8:30PM-10:30PM: Fatty dinner with my family, including all the cousins and uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. Also, all my friends are invited. So really, it's a party with food. We'll be jolly and merry and enjoy ourselves, laughing and joking. The food will be anything anyone wants. I'll probably have a hella gourmet burger with hella gourmet fries or something, haha. We'll be loud and talk and yell and sing at this dinner. Good times will be had. People will leave the dinner saying, "Wow. Andrew knows how to have a good dinner."
10:30PM-11PM: I'll play Super Smash Brothers Melee with Tri Nguyen. I know it'd yield something exciting, haha.
11PM-11:30PM: I'd say goodbye to everyone. Not the sad goodbye. The normal good bye. We shouldn't need to tell our friends and family how much we love them at the last moment. The whole day should be filled with words of appreciation. I wouldn't need to tell anyone that I'll miss them or that I love them. They should have already heard it from me.
11:30PM-11:59PM: I'd take all the pictures that were taken of my day and write a caption for them. There would probably be hundreds so I'll just probably caption the ones I like the best. I'd leave a picture book, showing everyone how I think life should be a relaxing and happy journey.
12AM: I'd change my Facebook status or something, haha. I'd like to die asleep with a smile on my face on my bed with my Appa stuffed animal.
If you really just read all of that, then you realize I didn't do anything lasting, except for making that photo album at the end.
A happy life isn't determined by important actions, but rather, is determined by actions done happily with important people.
"24 HOURS TO LIVE! (AKA 24 HOURS UNTIL YOU DIE)
Must Have...
- Minimum 8 Hours of Sleep
- Freedom to go anywhere (instant transporation)
- Can go with anyone you want, or alone, at any time
- At some point in the day, you must take two tests (15 minutes each)
- One of the tests must be a rigorous academic subject that you are good at
- The other test must be on an academic subject that you care about the most/are most interested in
- If you pass these two tests, you will be able to fix any significant social/political problem in the world. What would you fix?
- Where do you go, who is with you, and what do you do there?
12 AM -
1AM -
2AM -
3AM -
4AM -
5AM -
6AM -
7AM -
8AM -
9AM -
10AM -
11AM -
12PM -
1PM -
2PM -
3PM -
4PM -
5PM -
6PM -
7PM -
8PM -
9PM -
10PM -
11PM -
12AM -
What would you do?
Places to go?
Activities?
Abilities?
People?
Interests?
Concerns?
Talk to me about it after... If enough people fill it out, I'll type up mine! :D!"
12AM-5AM: I'll sleep and wake up just before the sunrise, so I can catch it one last time with the woman I love on a beach somewhere nowhere near civilization. I know, I know. Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "No way Andrew can get up that early! Freakin' lazy-ass mother fu-" But this is a hypothetical so just let me have my fun, ok? =)
5AM-7AM: I'd eat breakfast with aforementioned woman while watching the sunrise. We'll talk and laugh and just be all smiles. Breakfast will include sausages and eggs and tater tots. Wait, wtf? That's what I eat at the dining hall...talk about pathetic aspirations. Anyways, the food itself hardly matters, as long as I get to eat something and enjoy my morning.
7AM-10AM: After I eat and watch the sunrise and change my Facebook status accordingly, I'd take a 3 hour nap. I freakin' woke up hella early!
"Andrew Nguyen just had an amazing morning with [insert name here], watching the sun rise on a deserted island and enjoying each other's company! About 2 minutes ago. - Comment"
10AM-11AM: I'd take my two tests. The first one would be an essay test. I'd probably take the essay portion of the SAT I again, since I did pretty well every time I took it. Then, after those first 15 minutes, I'd take a 30 minute break to cram for a Human Anatomy test, which is the required course I'm taking now for my degree, leading the way to a dental school acceptance hopefully. The world problem I'd fix would be world hunger. I think everyone should have a chance to be nourished. That way, they can be healthy to make good decisions. I just want everyone to be happy =)
11AM-12:30PM: I'll probably go to Church. I want it to be a Sunday celebration, with one of my friends presiding, and any other friends who happen to be priests also present behind the alter. Also behind the alter I'd like Cha Tri Dinh, simply because he really, really, really knows how to help out alter servers. Yes, I'm speaking as the voice of experience. Matt and I would have walked around aimlessly without him.
Also, I'd like the FLOCK Choir to sing for mass. The gathering song will be "Go to Distance" from Hercules. I want Tri Phan and Thuy Angela to sing the Responsorial Psalm and generally lead the vocals with the rest of FLOCK backing them up. Anh Hoan will conduct and My will be on piano when she's not singing. The music will be the Mass of Glory setting by Bob Hurd. I'd like to be the one to deliver the homily, giving insights about my life and my observations. I'd make it as funny as possible too so that Jesus himself will un-nail himself from the cross to slap his knee and clutch his ribs.
I hope water doesn't spill out, though.
Ok, ok, I'm going to hell, I know.
The Nicene Creed will be sung in Vietnamese as Kinh Tin Kính even though technically, it's missing some parts. Also, the peace-giving part will be long like it is at Youth Mass because everyone will give everyone a hug. The congregation will consist of all my friends, if they so choose to come. Normally, I hate it when that part lasts a long time, not because I don't like to extend peace, but because some people give peace while others stand around uncomfortably. If everyone was involved and it was long, I wouldn't mind. I just don't like leaving people out. That's why when I sang in FLOCK, I was the first one back to the choir section, ready to sing the Lamb of God. I don't like leaving members of the congregation out.
Anywho, after communion (which will feature "The Servant Song" as the song), FLOCK will regale us with a meditation song. I'm thinking Irish Blessing, but it could be anything as long as it's pretty. The last song will be "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. It will be sung by Josh Groban and Mariah Carey, since I think they have the two best voices for their genders in the world.
12:30PM-2:30PM: I'll have lunch with my friends. It will be at a Pho luncheon where we can order plates that a restaurant would normally serve. I'll probably go with some Com Tam dish. Lunch will probably be with my Dong Hanh friends and whoever else went to church like Pray4Fun, my Pacific friends, Boy Scout friends, Bellarmine friends, anyone. We'll pay for the priests. It'd be a lot of fun, like the DHDH meals we had or any meal with Sean, Eric and Michael, haha.
2:30PM-5PM: Hang out at a remote beach with all my friends. Just enjoy the sun and laugh and play. Build sand castles, play football, bury people, argue with Michael Lai, etc.
5PM-6PM: Play basketball. It doesn't matter with whom as long as the games are competitive and fun. I'd actually like to play at American Airlines Stadium where the Dallas Mavericks play cuz I think it's one of the nicest stadiums in the NBA. Actually, it'd be cool to play in front of a sell-out crowd. The game wouldn't be as polished as an NBA game, but if it's competitive then it'll be fun to play and watch too.
6PM-6:30PM: Shower.
6:30PM-8:30PM: Play mafia with anyone who wants to play. Attendance is only required for my brother, cuz he knows how to make it interesting. We'd play on the beach and watch the sun set. We'd play until we need to light torches to see the cards.
8:30PM-10:30PM: Fatty dinner with my family, including all the cousins and uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. Also, all my friends are invited. So really, it's a party with food. We'll be jolly and merry and enjoy ourselves, laughing and joking. The food will be anything anyone wants. I'll probably have a hella gourmet burger with hella gourmet fries or something, haha. We'll be loud and talk and yell and sing at this dinner. Good times will be had. People will leave the dinner saying, "Wow. Andrew knows how to have a good dinner."
10:30PM-11PM: I'll play Super Smash Brothers Melee with Tri Nguyen. I know it'd yield something exciting, haha.
11PM-11:30PM: I'd say goodbye to everyone. Not the sad goodbye. The normal good bye. We shouldn't need to tell our friends and family how much we love them at the last moment. The whole day should be filled with words of appreciation. I wouldn't need to tell anyone that I'll miss them or that I love them. They should have already heard it from me.
11:30PM-11:59PM: I'd take all the pictures that were taken of my day and write a caption for them. There would probably be hundreds so I'll just probably caption the ones I like the best. I'd leave a picture book, showing everyone how I think life should be a relaxing and happy journey.
12AM: I'd change my Facebook status or something, haha. I'd like to die asleep with a smile on my face on my bed with my Appa stuffed animal.
If you really just read all of that, then you realize I didn't do anything lasting, except for making that photo album at the end.
A happy life isn't determined by important actions, but rather, is determined by actions done happily with important people.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Maybe I'm Dreaming
I had another freaky dream during my 11:30AM-1PM nap. Unfortunately, this one is a little bit too strange for the internets. It involves two of my good friends and a VERY awkward situation.
Sorry for building that up.
So my nap today was strangely eventful. I skipped lunch and was prepared to go to my 1PM Macroeconomics class. I had the ever-reliable Anna deal the wake up call. Actually, I had her call me at noon so I could get lunch. However, as noon rolled nearer, it was evident that my state of slumber was much more powerful than my mind or stomach.
Therefore, I asked Anna to call me back a few minutes before 1PM, so that I could readily make it to my class. As 1PM neared, I got the call.
"Hey," her voice came through emphatically.
"Heyyyy," was my groggy reply.
"Are you going to class?" she asked me.
"Yeah, of course." It really wasn't obvious if I were going or not.
"OK, then. You should get going. You only have ten minutes until class," she advised.
"Yeah, yeah," I replied, feigning awareness. "I'm heading out now."
"OK, then. I'll talk to you later?"
"Sure." I checked the time. 12:50PM. I went back to sleep.
An eternity later, I woke up to check the time.
12:55PM.
That's it, I thought to myself, I'm DEFINITELY ditching Macroeconomics today. I went back to sleep.
An eternity later, I woke up to check the time.
12:58PM.
Fuck. Are you fucking KIDDING me!?
So yeah, I went to class reluctantly with a newly opened can of Monster.
24 fl. oz. of energy, and I still regretted going to class. Bullshit. BULLSHIT!
And now I can't even go back to sleep because I'm so freakin' spiked on this liquid crack.
At least it's Lo-Carb.
Sorry for building that up.
So my nap today was strangely eventful. I skipped lunch and was prepared to go to my 1PM Macroeconomics class. I had the ever-reliable Anna deal the wake up call. Actually, I had her call me at noon so I could get lunch. However, as noon rolled nearer, it was evident that my state of slumber was much more powerful than my mind or stomach.
Therefore, I asked Anna to call me back a few minutes before 1PM, so that I could readily make it to my class. As 1PM neared, I got the call.
"Hey," her voice came through emphatically.
"Heyyyy," was my groggy reply.
"Are you going to class?" she asked me.
"Yeah, of course." It really wasn't obvious if I were going or not.
"OK, then. You should get going. You only have ten minutes until class," she advised.
"Yeah, yeah," I replied, feigning awareness. "I'm heading out now."
"OK, then. I'll talk to you later?"
"Sure." I checked the time. 12:50PM. I went back to sleep.
An eternity later, I woke up to check the time.
12:55PM.
That's it, I thought to myself, I'm DEFINITELY ditching Macroeconomics today. I went back to sleep.
An eternity later, I woke up to check the time.
12:58PM.
Fuck. Are you fucking KIDDING me!?
So yeah, I went to class reluctantly with a newly opened can of Monster.
24 fl. oz. of energy, and I still regretted going to class. Bullshit. BULLSHIT!
And now I can't even go back to sleep because I'm so freakin' spiked on this liquid crack.
At least it's Lo-Carb.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Observational Ramblings
Skype seems to be a genuine method of communication. I would use to think that it was time consuming and cumbersome, seeing as how the phone was simply there and easily accessible to my texting/calling whims.
But it seems with the right people, the right combination of personality and friends, I have been able to accept this once-frowned upon method of communication.
So yes, I am wasting lots of time.
In other news, my good friend Jagmeet Chuahan turns 20 today. He started off the day rough (ask him for details) which lead him to swear never to consume alcohol again.
Yeah, it was THAT rough. But, at the end of the day, we spent a dinner with him and although the bastard busboy at El Torito f@#$ing forgot to get him the free desert and sing to him the jovial Mexican cumpleaños tunes, I do hope Jag enjoyed his time with his good friends. I know he reads my blog, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG GUY! May Allah extend his blessings upon you. =)
^Wow, that blessing almost sounded legit...
I was talking to Sean today before we entered El Torito, and he brought up a good point. No matter where you want to eat, in the end, whomever owns the birthday gets to decide. You simply cannot force your desires on someone else's day. If Jag had chosen to eat at In-N-Out, we are spending time there and eating our asses off, Sean said.
I was SO ready to eat 2 4x4 burgers. That's one more goal of mine.
More surveys coming soon! =)
But it seems with the right people, the right combination of personality and friends, I have been able to accept this once-frowned upon method of communication.
So yes, I am wasting lots of time.
In other news, my good friend Jagmeet Chuahan turns 20 today. He started off the day rough (ask him for details) which lead him to swear never to consume alcohol again.
Yeah, it was THAT rough. But, at the end of the day, we spent a dinner with him and although the bastard busboy at El Torito f@#$ing forgot to get him the free desert and sing to him the jovial Mexican cumpleaños tunes, I do hope Jag enjoyed his time with his good friends. I know he reads my blog, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG GUY! May Allah extend his blessings upon you. =)
^Wow, that blessing almost sounded legit...
I was talking to Sean today before we entered El Torito, and he brought up a good point. No matter where you want to eat, in the end, whomever owns the birthday gets to decide. You simply cannot force your desires on someone else's day. If Jag had chosen to eat at In-N-Out, we are spending time there and eating our asses off, Sean said.
I was SO ready to eat 2 4x4 burgers. That's one more goal of mine.
More surveys coming soon! =)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Facebook Notes
I logged onto my Facebook the other day as I do every so often (hourly, really), and I was somewhat surprised to see that I had been tagged in a note. Now, I knew that I hadn't recently hacked onto Sean's account recently or anything, so I knew it wasn't some grotesque note about Sean's sexual tendencies (I do love those notes. You guys should check them out). Also, I knew it wasn't one of the Andrew-Writing-As-Sean notes because I had tried to write one a few weeks previously only to find that the moron had changed his password.
Jerk.
So it was to my somewhat pleasant surprise that Christian Deguzman tagged me in a random survey about random facts, entitled "16 Candles". Now, in the old days of MySpace notes and Xanga subscriptions, to which I'm sure many of you still follow, surveys were plentiful and manifold. They were generally pointless ramblings, asking about specific questions regarding the surveyed. And normally, other people were chosen to continue and spread the survey love. They consisted of lame questions on random things, about which I knew few people really cared. In short, I generally despised them, seeing them as a cheap, easy way to fill up space and time.
Regardless of my blatant disrespect, however, I filled a few out, contributing to the insignificant myriad of words to waste time. We all have done things about which we may not necessarily be too proud...especially in boredom.
Anyways, the purpose of this rant is not to condemn surveys, even though I must add that they are worthless and pointless. The point of this rant is to fill out another one. Mr. Deguzman was not the first to tag me in such a survey. Helen Nguyen and Tiffanie Lee have also graced me with mention. Thus, I am triply obligated to fill out this crap myself.
I particularly enjoy this one because while most surveys ask random things, this one simply asks to write anything. That freedom itself makes it appealing. That, and the fact that a 2 hour lecture at 8 in the morning cannot possibly sustain its excitement in the allotted time.
Oh, and my last note was a result of a tag from Francesca Lomotan. Thanks, Franny =)
"The brief: "Once you’ve been tagged, you have (can if you want) to write a note with 16 random things, shortcomings, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose 16 people to be tagged, listing their names and why you chose them. You have to tag the person who tagged you."" -Xtian
1. I'm a huge fan of Disney films, mostly musical films made after The Little Mermaid in 1988, which was technically the beginning of what is now known as the Disney Renaissance...
2. I once wrote a lengthy research paper on Disney and the Little Mermaid.
3. I've seen close to 800 films, and my favorite three are Beauty and the Beast, Pride and Prejudice and Lost in Translation.
4. I love my friends more than anything. I value interpersonal relationships above all else, and my religious views stem from this (See previous entries).
5. I usually don't do things in moderation. I'll eat a meal or two a day, but they'll be meals large enough for two healthy people. If I work out, I'll go as hard as my body can humanly handle (or if I cramp...), but I seldom work out. I either pull all-nighters or sleep in excess of 12 hours at a time. I am a child of extremes, but I'm trying to change it.
6. I was born in Worcester, Massachusetts and moved to the Bay at an early age. This justifies my being a fan of the Celtics, Patriots or Red Sox. I'm not a fan of any of the three, but I could justifiably be one! (PS Go Warriors and 49ers!)
7. Before my current permanent residence (what some call home), my immediate family had never lived at one address for longer than two years. My former addresses include 609 San Miguel Ave. Santa Clara, CA, 95050; 1454 Don Ave. Santa Clara, CA, 95050; 244 Smithwood St. Milpitas, CA, 95035; and my current address. I lived in two places prior to the San Miguel house, but I was too young to remember the addresses.
8. When I was young, living in a duplex before we moved into the San Miguel house, I was once woken up by the sound of a police interrogation in the middle of the night. For some reason, I was sleeping in the living room that night. As it turns out, the Mexican family to whom we let out the other side was in the middle of a feud. That night, the husband stabbed his wife and killed her outside our place. It was all over the news, and our house was on TV and everything. I wasn't scared because I knew it was over, and the guy was caught. They were survived by at least two daughters near my age, who were then raised by grandma. The mom was buried out front. Her name was Charlotte.
9. When my brother and I were younger we both had our own favorite bedsheets/blankets. His was Barney and mine was the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. While Matt's Barney blanket was soft on one side, mine had the Power Rangers on it. A fair trade off in my opinion.
10. Though I'm an Eagle Scout now, my first Scouting experience was as a Cub Scout in Lien Doan Ra Khoi, or Troop 285, in San Jose. My first camping trip was horrible. I think I cried and missed my mom. I remember doing push-ups for doing something wrong. Looking back, it wasn't so bad, but I was new to it, and probably whiny to begin with. I was then a Boy Scout in Troop 74 until my parents moved us to Milpitas, where I joined 101 Lac Hong, which later split into 101 and 111, Lien Doan Hoa Lu. It was with 111 that I earned Eagle Scout. I know this doesn't make sense to lots of you, but I hope it was random enough.
11. I played the flute for a year in 4th or 5th grade. Manly, I know.
12. In second grade, I pretty much thought I was a badass, flipping off all my friends and whatnot. Then I transferred to St. Justin's in third grade. I suddenly became the only Vietnamese boy, and one of like 5 Asian kids. It was weird, and I was quiet and shy around these people until I left them in 8th grade. I mention this because I got in trouble my first few weeks for pretending to flip someone off. The jerk told on me. I learned.
13. If I ever come off as someone who is very aware of his grammar, I attribute all such awareness and grammatical knowledge to my middle school English teacher, Mrs. Wayne. She had us write often in our headings, "English is my favorite subject in the world!" and had us analyze and diagram sentences. *Shudder*
14. I secretly love and enjoy analyzing and diagramming sentences.
15. I used to play with Barbies with my cousin Phuong, Chị Bé, when I was much younger, but it wasn't like dress-up or hair-combing play normally found in young female circles. It was more like I-have-control-over-someone's-fate play where I enjoyed controlling or living vicariously through the dolls. In my defense, GI Joe dolls are played similarly, but yes, it's still feminine because they're Barbies. And lastly, for some reason I can't seem to understand,
16. I'm still single. I'm picky too, so that may have something to do with it. But I'm sure the Barbie thing doesn't help much.
Jerk.
So it was to my somewhat pleasant surprise that Christian Deguzman tagged me in a random survey about random facts, entitled "16 Candles". Now, in the old days of MySpace notes and Xanga subscriptions, to which I'm sure many of you still follow, surveys were plentiful and manifold. They were generally pointless ramblings, asking about specific questions regarding the surveyed. And normally, other people were chosen to continue and spread the survey love. They consisted of lame questions on random things, about which I knew few people really cared. In short, I generally despised them, seeing them as a cheap, easy way to fill up space and time.
Regardless of my blatant disrespect, however, I filled a few out, contributing to the insignificant myriad of words to waste time. We all have done things about which we may not necessarily be too proud...especially in boredom.
Anyways, the purpose of this rant is not to condemn surveys, even though I must add that they are worthless and pointless. The point of this rant is to fill out another one. Mr. Deguzman was not the first to tag me in such a survey. Helen Nguyen and Tiffanie Lee have also graced me with mention. Thus, I am triply obligated to fill out this crap myself.
I particularly enjoy this one because while most surveys ask random things, this one simply asks to write anything. That freedom itself makes it appealing. That, and the fact that a 2 hour lecture at 8 in the morning cannot possibly sustain its excitement in the allotted time.
Oh, and my last note was a result of a tag from Francesca Lomotan. Thanks, Franny =)
"The brief: "Once you’ve been tagged, you have (can if you want) to write a note with 16 random things, shortcomings, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose 16 people to be tagged, listing their names and why you chose them. You have to tag the person who tagged you."" -Xtian
1. I'm a huge fan of Disney films, mostly musical films made after The Little Mermaid in 1988, which was technically the beginning of what is now known as the Disney Renaissance...
2. I once wrote a lengthy research paper on Disney and the Little Mermaid.
3. I've seen close to 800 films, and my favorite three are Beauty and the Beast, Pride and Prejudice and Lost in Translation.
4. I love my friends more than anything. I value interpersonal relationships above all else, and my religious views stem from this (See previous entries).
5. I usually don't do things in moderation. I'll eat a meal or two a day, but they'll be meals large enough for two healthy people. If I work out, I'll go as hard as my body can humanly handle (or if I cramp...), but I seldom work out. I either pull all-nighters or sleep in excess of 12 hours at a time. I am a child of extremes, but I'm trying to change it.
6. I was born in Worcester, Massachusetts and moved to the Bay at an early age. This justifies my being a fan of the Celtics, Patriots or Red Sox. I'm not a fan of any of the three, but I could justifiably be one! (PS Go Warriors and 49ers!)
7. Before my current permanent residence (what some call home), my immediate family had never lived at one address for longer than two years. My former addresses include 609 San Miguel Ave. Santa Clara, CA, 95050; 1454 Don Ave. Santa Clara, CA, 95050; 244 Smithwood St. Milpitas, CA, 95035; and my current address. I lived in two places prior to the San Miguel house, but I was too young to remember the addresses.
8. When I was young, living in a duplex before we moved into the San Miguel house, I was once woken up by the sound of a police interrogation in the middle of the night. For some reason, I was sleeping in the living room that night. As it turns out, the Mexican family to whom we let out the other side was in the middle of a feud. That night, the husband stabbed his wife and killed her outside our place. It was all over the news, and our house was on TV and everything. I wasn't scared because I knew it was over, and the guy was caught. They were survived by at least two daughters near my age, who were then raised by grandma. The mom was buried out front. Her name was Charlotte.
9. When my brother and I were younger we both had our own favorite bedsheets/blankets. His was Barney and mine was the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. While Matt's Barney blanket was soft on one side, mine had the Power Rangers on it. A fair trade off in my opinion.
10. Though I'm an Eagle Scout now, my first Scouting experience was as a Cub Scout in Lien Doan Ra Khoi, or Troop 285, in San Jose. My first camping trip was horrible. I think I cried and missed my mom. I remember doing push-ups for doing something wrong. Looking back, it wasn't so bad, but I was new to it, and probably whiny to begin with. I was then a Boy Scout in Troop 74 until my parents moved us to Milpitas, where I joined 101 Lac Hong, which later split into 101 and 111, Lien Doan Hoa Lu. It was with 111 that I earned Eagle Scout. I know this doesn't make sense to lots of you, but I hope it was random enough.
11. I played the flute for a year in 4th or 5th grade. Manly, I know.
12. In second grade, I pretty much thought I was a badass, flipping off all my friends and whatnot. Then I transferred to St. Justin's in third grade. I suddenly became the only Vietnamese boy, and one of like 5 Asian kids. It was weird, and I was quiet and shy around these people until I left them in 8th grade. I mention this because I got in trouble my first few weeks for pretending to flip someone off. The jerk told on me. I learned.
13. If I ever come off as someone who is very aware of his grammar, I attribute all such awareness and grammatical knowledge to my middle school English teacher, Mrs. Wayne. She had us write often in our headings, "English is my favorite subject in the world!" and had us analyze and diagram sentences. *Shudder*
14. I secretly love and enjoy analyzing and diagramming sentences.
15. I used to play with Barbies with my cousin Phuong, Chị Bé, when I was much younger, but it wasn't like dress-up or hair-combing play normally found in young female circles. It was more like I-have-control-over-someone's-fate play where I enjoyed controlling or living vicariously through the dolls. In my defense, GI Joe dolls are played similarly, but yes, it's still feminine because they're Barbies. And lastly, for some reason I can't seem to understand,
16. I'm still single. I'm picky too, so that may have something to do with it. But I'm sure the Barbie thing doesn't help much.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Secret Life of Daydreams
Overall, I had a horrible week.
My crappy bioinformatics report was due, and of course, I had to watch as much Avatar: The Last Airbender as I could before I started it. Needless to say, I stayed up late and missed all my classes. I actually think its the first time this semester I've missed all my classes.
I did make it to research, but everything was crappy cuz I asked someone else to do my assay for me the day before. So, frustrating.
Also, Sean was hospitalized. He busted his lip and chipped his tooth.
Eric Woo, his lovely roommate, called me that morning to make sure I told the TA's and teachers that neither of them would be able to make it to class. I obliged.
So Eric insisted I give Dr. Wrischnik his number to she could call him back to confirm his excuse. I went over to her research lab and found her talking to a student. Eventually, however, I was able to nab her attention.
"What can I do for you, Andrew?" she asked.
"Well, you know Eric Woo and Sean? They're roommates?" I asked back. She nodded. "Well, they're at the hospital right now."
She curled her lip so much I swear I thought she was on the verge of laughter. You know what I mean?
"What happened?" she asked, barely containing her laughter.
"Well, Sean slipped and fell this morning in the bathroom." No more smile. "And Eric accompanied him to the hospital. They should be back sometime today, but Eric insisted I leave his number so you could call him and tell him it's okay."
She got the number and I got a strange experience. Maybe I shouldn't say things so sardonically anymore. It was a serious situation...
Whatever.
Then I had the most ridiculous 3-text conversation with Paul. I called him and he texted me.
Paul: Hey, I'm in class. What do you want? I don't have a text plan so say it in one text.
Me: Oh, sorry dude. I was just wondering when you were going to get Sean cuz I wanted to go with you.
Paul: They're keeping him overnight. Don't reply to this text.
Easily, THE funniest text conversation I've ever had.
But no matter how crappy my week was, and still is, I was able to finish Avatar: The Last Airbender. FREAKIN' AMAZING. There are no words to describe the awesomeness that is that show....
Yes, I need a life.
My crappy bioinformatics report was due, and of course, I had to watch as much Avatar: The Last Airbender as I could before I started it. Needless to say, I stayed up late and missed all my classes. I actually think its the first time this semester I've missed all my classes.
I did make it to research, but everything was crappy cuz I asked someone else to do my assay for me the day before. So, frustrating.
Also, Sean was hospitalized. He busted his lip and chipped his tooth.
Eric Woo, his lovely roommate, called me that morning to make sure I told the TA's and teachers that neither of them would be able to make it to class. I obliged.
So Eric insisted I give Dr. Wrischnik his number to she could call him back to confirm his excuse. I went over to her research lab and found her talking to a student. Eventually, however, I was able to nab her attention.
"What can I do for you, Andrew?" she asked.
"Well, you know Eric Woo and Sean? They're roommates?" I asked back. She nodded. "Well, they're at the hospital right now."
She curled her lip so much I swear I thought she was on the verge of laughter. You know what I mean?
"What happened?" she asked, barely containing her laughter.
"Well, Sean slipped and fell this morning in the bathroom." No more smile. "And Eric accompanied him to the hospital. They should be back sometime today, but Eric insisted I leave his number so you could call him and tell him it's okay."
She got the number and I got a strange experience. Maybe I shouldn't say things so sardonically anymore. It was a serious situation...
Whatever.
Then I had the most ridiculous 3-text conversation with Paul. I called him and he texted me.
Paul: Hey, I'm in class. What do you want? I don't have a text plan so say it in one text.
Me: Oh, sorry dude. I was just wondering when you were going to get Sean cuz I wanted to go with you.
Paul: They're keeping him overnight. Don't reply to this text.
Easily, THE funniest text conversation I've ever had.
But no matter how crappy my week was, and still is, I was able to finish Avatar: The Last Airbender. FREAKIN' AMAZING. There are no words to describe the awesomeness that is that show....
Yes, I need a life.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Time on Red Bull
It's 4:15AM, and I'm still awake. This post will probably the one An Vy reads first, since she will have probably caught her eye on her name at the top. So I guess I should make this one good? ;)
So it's 4:15AM, and I find myself idly refreshing Facebook. I'm adding new friends from the right module on the Newsfeed page. You know, the one under the "People You May Know" headline.
That's how lame I am. I want to sleep so badly, but my schedule's all messed up now. I watched a movie yesterday night (morning) and it kept me awake until half past 5 in the morning. It was well worth it though, considering how much I had wanted to see it in theaters last year, but never got around to it.
It was Dan in Real Life with Steve Carrell and Juliet Binoche (and Dane Cook too, but I'll comment on that in a second.) I loved the movie. It seemed like it could have been made 30 years ago and been considered a classic, but alas, it was made in this day and age. So, to a lot of people, it'll seem cliche and contrived. It will also seem fake and unrealistic, like a typical Hollywood film. But this movie was very down-to-earth, very low-key.
There were lots of flaws though, like the lack of depth of the family members (probably due to the short running time of the film). Also, the music was a bit unnecessary, though extremely well-written on their own. Sondre Lerche is an amazing musician. Moreover, the film was very contrived in its plot elements, the way the story unraveled. The writing must have been edited by a producer looking to make money, since the script obviously tried diligently to appeal to a large audience. This sacrifice was overall detracting in the direction of the film's story, but it was not as noticeable as some critics made it seem. Plus, the acting was wonderful, the chemistry between Carrel and Binoche surprisingly smooth, like chocolat (sorry, I had to...). As for the supporting cast, Dane Cook is a surprisingly not bad actor and is funnier when he's not cursing or making vulgar jokes like his stand-up. He's not a very good stand-up comedian, his jokes being stale at best, but his presence was welcoming, sharing the screen well with Carrell. The rest of his family could probably be considered one character for all the use they have in the plot's progression. They did, however, work well to show the amount of love in the family. The large size of the immediate family really was impressive in its goal to emphasize the ensemble nature of family love. Simply seeing them do things as a whole unit was heart-warming, if a bit unrealistic.
Overall though, the film's general tone was so warm that it easily balanced out all the obvious flaws. Had those flaws not existed, the film would rank among my all-time favorites. Yet, even as it is, Dan in Real Life makes my list for 2007.
Speaking of which, my Top 10 List of 2007 has been deleted from Yahoo. I mean, it's another one of those things that no one reads (not unlike the words you're reading right now), but the fact that I spent time on it just to have it deleted really annoys me. I have to do it all over again...
Now, on to the petty details of my day: I woke up this afternoon and did nothing worth noting...
Then, after a blissful conversation, I proceeded to go on Facebook. Much to my chagrin, I found that my dear friend Christian DeGuzman had bought two-thirds of my friends on the Friends for Sale application. I then engaged in a short FFS skirmish, buying back all my friends multiple times. Christian was a formidable opponent, and like any other formidable opponent, he agreed to a truce with me. We decided to split the "pets," as they are so dubbed. He kept a few, while I kept others. Then we agreed never to buy from each other again, so as to maintain a certain level of civility between two obviously upstanding members of the FFS community.
However, less than 5 minutes after the truce, I refresh my main page on FFS and find that someone else was buy friends from me. I found myself first embroiled in indignation, and then humor at my indignation. This humor quickly receded into determination to buy my friends back. This person was none other than Peterson Rooster Lim, Christian's roommate. How dare he? They were MY property, and he had no right buying them from me.
I quickly checked the cash amounts both of us had, and it looked like he and I were to battle until I ran out of money. And so, the epic war raged on.
After 15 minutes or so of buying back our mutual friends, I complained to Christian, who was happily building up his own collection without me as a hindrance. He first laughed it off, probably thinking I deserved as much for being greedy, but then, he came up with the perfect idea.
He told me to buy Kate Salazar, Peterson's girlfriend whom I was sure he coveted. At first, I was skeptical, worried that Peterson would buy my own girlfriend, but Christian quickly doused the flames of my doubt. Christian, being the good friend he was, had already tried to buy my girlfriend in order to stop me from starting a war with him, but, much to his surprise, he was unable to buy her because she was not his friend on Facebook. So, Christian told me, buying Kate would not bear any financial risk on my part.
So I bought her. Every time you buy a person on FFS, his or her value increases, so that the next time, the cost of buying the person is larger, sometimes significantly so for more expensive pets. The extra money goes as a profit to the owner of the pet. For example, say I buy Peterson for $560. If Christian wants him, he has to pay $580, with the extra $20 going to me as a profit. If I want to buy Peterson back, I have to pay $610, with Christian receiving $580 (the price he bought Peterson) plus a $30 profit.
After a while, Kate was the only one Peterson and I were vying for, since I just wanted her to profit from all his money and buy Christian and Sean back. Since I had bought a few more pets earlier that day, Peterson had the upper hand, eventually buying out Kate for more than I could buy back. I didn't mind that much, since I could now buy Sean. However, I forgot to buy Christian, and Christian was terribly angry with me. "You have to buy me back!" he told me aggressively online. "She's worth more than me!"
So after everyone signed off, I got more money (via a secret method I shall not reveal here, just in case). I then bought Kate, Christian and Sean. By this time, I had accumulated so much money I was able to by Wanda Lam and Tracey Tran, for $21k and $14k, respectively.
I don't want to keep them. I just want some people to buy them so I can make a few thousand dollars profit.
And now I'm blogging about it.
So it's 4:15AM, and I find myself idly refreshing Facebook. I'm adding new friends from the right module on the Newsfeed page. You know, the one under the "People You May Know" headline.
That's how lame I am. I want to sleep so badly, but my schedule's all messed up now. I watched a movie yesterday night (morning) and it kept me awake until half past 5 in the morning. It was well worth it though, considering how much I had wanted to see it in theaters last year, but never got around to it.
It was Dan in Real Life with Steve Carrell and Juliet Binoche (and Dane Cook too, but I'll comment on that in a second.) I loved the movie. It seemed like it could have been made 30 years ago and been considered a classic, but alas, it was made in this day and age. So, to a lot of people, it'll seem cliche and contrived. It will also seem fake and unrealistic, like a typical Hollywood film. But this movie was very down-to-earth, very low-key.
There were lots of flaws though, like the lack of depth of the family members (probably due to the short running time of the film). Also, the music was a bit unnecessary, though extremely well-written on their own. Sondre Lerche is an amazing musician. Moreover, the film was very contrived in its plot elements, the way the story unraveled. The writing must have been edited by a producer looking to make money, since the script obviously tried diligently to appeal to a large audience. This sacrifice was overall detracting in the direction of the film's story, but it was not as noticeable as some critics made it seem. Plus, the acting was wonderful, the chemistry between Carrel and Binoche surprisingly smooth, like chocolat (sorry, I had to...). As for the supporting cast, Dane Cook is a surprisingly not bad actor and is funnier when he's not cursing or making vulgar jokes like his stand-up. He's not a very good stand-up comedian, his jokes being stale at best, but his presence was welcoming, sharing the screen well with Carrell. The rest of his family could probably be considered one character for all the use they have in the plot's progression. They did, however, work well to show the amount of love in the family. The large size of the immediate family really was impressive in its goal to emphasize the ensemble nature of family love. Simply seeing them do things as a whole unit was heart-warming, if a bit unrealistic.
Overall though, the film's general tone was so warm that it easily balanced out all the obvious flaws. Had those flaws not existed, the film would rank among my all-time favorites. Yet, even as it is, Dan in Real Life makes my list for 2007.
Speaking of which, my Top 10 List of 2007 has been deleted from Yahoo. I mean, it's another one of those things that no one reads (not unlike the words you're reading right now), but the fact that I spent time on it just to have it deleted really annoys me. I have to do it all over again...
Now, on to the petty details of my day: I woke up this afternoon and did nothing worth noting...
Then, after a blissful conversation, I proceeded to go on Facebook. Much to my chagrin, I found that my dear friend Christian DeGuzman had bought two-thirds of my friends on the Friends for Sale application. I then engaged in a short FFS skirmish, buying back all my friends multiple times. Christian was a formidable opponent, and like any other formidable opponent, he agreed to a truce with me. We decided to split the "pets," as they are so dubbed. He kept a few, while I kept others. Then we agreed never to buy from each other again, so as to maintain a certain level of civility between two obviously upstanding members of the FFS community.
However, less than 5 minutes after the truce, I refresh my main page on FFS and find that someone else was buy friends from me. I found myself first embroiled in indignation, and then humor at my indignation. This humor quickly receded into determination to buy my friends back. This person was none other than Peterson Rooster Lim, Christian's roommate. How dare he? They were MY property, and he had no right buying them from me.
I quickly checked the cash amounts both of us had, and it looked like he and I were to battle until I ran out of money. And so, the epic war raged on.
After 15 minutes or so of buying back our mutual friends, I complained to Christian, who was happily building up his own collection without me as a hindrance. He first laughed it off, probably thinking I deserved as much for being greedy, but then, he came up with the perfect idea.
He told me to buy Kate Salazar, Peterson's girlfriend whom I was sure he coveted. At first, I was skeptical, worried that Peterson would buy my own girlfriend, but Christian quickly doused the flames of my doubt. Christian, being the good friend he was, had already tried to buy my girlfriend in order to stop me from starting a war with him, but, much to his surprise, he was unable to buy her because she was not his friend on Facebook. So, Christian told me, buying Kate would not bear any financial risk on my part.
So I bought her. Every time you buy a person on FFS, his or her value increases, so that the next time, the cost of buying the person is larger, sometimes significantly so for more expensive pets. The extra money goes as a profit to the owner of the pet. For example, say I buy Peterson for $560. If Christian wants him, he has to pay $580, with the extra $20 going to me as a profit. If I want to buy Peterson back, I have to pay $610, with Christian receiving $580 (the price he bought Peterson) plus a $30 profit.
After a while, Kate was the only one Peterson and I were vying for, since I just wanted her to profit from all his money and buy Christian and Sean back. Since I had bought a few more pets earlier that day, Peterson had the upper hand, eventually buying out Kate for more than I could buy back. I didn't mind that much, since I could now buy Sean. However, I forgot to buy Christian, and Christian was terribly angry with me. "You have to buy me back!" he told me aggressively online. "She's worth more than me!"
So after everyone signed off, I got more money (via a secret method I shall not reveal here, just in case). I then bought Kate, Christian and Sean. By this time, I had accumulated so much money I was able to by Wanda Lam and Tracey Tran, for $21k and $14k, respectively.
I don't want to keep them. I just want some people to buy them so I can make a few thousand dollars profit.
And now I'm blogging about it.
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