Every three years, the Dong Hanh family, a Vietnamese Christian Life Community, gathers at the De Paul center in Montibello, California. Though the intricacies of the organization of Dong Hanh still elude me, I DO understand that my parents have dragged me monthly to a prayer group since before I can remember. As it turns out, some of my closest friends have grown out of this family prayer group, and as I write this, I am waiting for them to call me so I can drive back to Northern California with them. The years have not been able to break down our friendships.
And yet, when we think we have found our particular group of friends, just when we think we have found the ones that will stay with us and no one else could possibly offer similarly, we are proven wrong. We know nothing of the workings of the world or our destinies and paths of life. We are forever oblivious, naturally, of our future, bound only by our knowledge of our past and the continuing confusion of our present. Still, we have no choice, and we leave ourselves open to both pleasant surprises and painful risks.
Dong Hanh is the Vietnamese equivalent of a Christian Life Community, an organization of prayer groups that consists of thousands of Vietnamese across the United States and Canada. Every member of Dong Hanh shares a common heritage, but more importantly, shares a common faith. My mom grew up with many members of the Dong Hanh family so as expected, I was born with a strong Vietnamese Catholic mentality. When we moved from my birthplace in Worcester, Massachusetts to sunny San Jose, California, my family quickly established a Dong Hanh group, consisting of four or five families (possibly more, my memory stretches not that far), from which I would significantly derive my Biblical and social understanding (or lack thereof for all you comedians out there).
At first, these monthly meetings were a chore, forcing me to read and understand a text that was beyond my scope. In addition, these meetings were fearsome and intimidating, since I had little knowledge of the Vietnamese language. The language of my parents and their friends was one of subtle inflections and immense vocabulary. English itself was difficult to learn in school, but I was now forced to learn a second language simply to keep up with my parents. Fuck, I mean, screw that.
But as much as I wanted to run away from the Vietnamese in a different way than my parents ran away, I could not escape the inevitable, the unchangeable. Years of Vietnamese catechism, toiling away in classrooms every Saturday afternoon for years, thrust me constantly into a Vietnamese awareness for which I would eventually thank my parents, no matter how much I begged and complained and screamed to escape. Every Saturday afternoon captured the epitome of hell for me: A tender dose of Catholic teaching followed mercilessly by a whopping serving of Vietnamese grammar. For seven years I was tortured until I saw the light, both literally and spiritually I guess, in the seventh grade when I was confirmed into my Catholic faith.
I had finished Vietnamese school, as we called it, even though I had not learned an ounce of Vietnamese. However, I was definitely exposed to Bible and that has influenced me very strongly in my knowledge today.
My life story aside, I am Vietnamese. The Vietnamese Christian Life Community, or Dong Hanh, group to which my family adhered was called simply “Family Group.” I would learn later that Dong Hanh groups across the country would have much cooler names, but I’m not writing to complain about my obvious jealousy. I’m here to relate a recent experience I had.
Every three years, the National Dong Hanh convention gathers. Vietnamese Catholics form all over the nation convene to organize the next three years of national CLC events and all that crap (like I said, the Dong Hanh organization still eludes me…).
Three years ago, my family decided to join them. As a matter of fact, my parents had already been to the national convention a few times, as made evident by their semi-obnoxious shirts riddled with Biblical verses in both English and Vietnamese. This time however, in the blasé winter of 2005, as the years wound down, ready for the slick ’06, we spent our time in Southern California.
My brother and I had developed a certain attitude for things my parents wanted to do that was related to Church. As antagonistic as we were, however, mommy and daddy won out, and we abandoned all plans in order to follow our parents into the unknown darkness that was Dong Hanh.
We had the time of our lives. There was not much of a Youth Ministry in Dong Hanh at this time, so the kids were generally left to their own devices. Sensing this, I found anyone I could who was around my age or my brother’s age and we just played. We did everything together, sharing meals and losing sleep. Our parents were off to do their own thing, so we had no other choice but to enjoy our strangely acquired freedom. I met kids from all over, Han and Francis from Montreal, Stephanie from Maryland (I think), Linh, An and Tam from New Jersey, Savio from Arizona, Mark from somewhere in SoCal, Steve from UC Irvine, Paulina from New Orleans and fresh from Hurricane Katrina and a crapload of others. We owned Dong Hanh, and they didn’t even know it. There was no way they could have had as much fun as were having at that moment.
And when it was time to leave, we were all extremely happy with the new friends we made and were sure we’d have a life experience that would be unforgettable. My brother Matt claims we made a promise to come back in three years, but I don’t remember that.
But three years came. The rather sultry winter of ’08 bled slowly into ’09 and once again, Matt and I found ourselves unsure whether we wanted to go or not. Some of the people we met last time weren’t going to make it, so what was the point. Plus, there was no way it could have been the same as last time, right?
Right. There was no way it could have been the same. It was different this year, and in many ways, much more awesome. All the beauty we captured as a small group three years ago was magnified a hundred times fold. Simply by virtue of a greater population of youth, we were able to find a greater ability to enjoy ourselves.
Familiar faces made themselves apparent immediately, as Han and Francis smiled from Canada and Linh, An and Tam made themselves known.
“Andrew, do you remember our names?” An and Linh asked me.
“Linh and…”
“An,” my brother whispered, out of hearing from the two sisters.
“An,” I finished emphatically.
“Oh, damn,” An replied, evidently impressed. Matt saved my ass many times more afterward.
I then found myself tying bows onto index cards with people’s names on them. I had no idea why I was doing it, but Tam had asked me, and I had followed. There were people with matching red T-shirts walking around, apparently part of a group to which I had not yet been introduced, but I kept my head low, tying and curling the pretty bows…And yes, I lost man points.
That night, we all introduced ourselves, and obviously, I remembered no names. The names tags did not help either, since after that first night, few people wore them. But a night of games and fun forced me into slumber around midnight. Those of you reading this may realize that midnight is early for me. While this may be true, those of you who are reading this may also realize that I pull all-nighters more often than is healthy for the normal human being. It was the night after one of these notorious all-nighters that I had stayed up to meet all these new people. I was tired as hell.
From midnight, I woke up 18 hours later around 6PM, just in time to make it to the evening mass. I had spent little to no time getting to know my new friends, but I reasoned that I would eventually have time to get to know them better.
What transpired over the next few days, I cannot explain. I can only relate the hundreds of thousands of stories and inside jokes that were made, but even if I did so, it would not do the reality justice. All I can say is that there will be few jokes better than the ones to which I laughed this last week, few friends better than the ones I have made, and few experiences greater than the ones I have shared.
And for sure, there will be no love more profound than the love I gave and received. For in trying to avoid God as much as possible before this week and my entire life, I only found Him more true and ringing in my heart and soul through myself and through my friends.
No matter how much you try to avoid things, they will always catch up to you. As I have found, those that do find you and make a lasting impact are always worth it.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A True Underdog Story
Baghdad, IRAQ - Earlier this week during a surprise visit to tour Iraq, soon-to-be unemployed President George Bush was met with a double dose Iraqi love. In a surprise of all surprises, the American President, whose party has recently lost to the the incumbent Senator Barack Obama, D-Ill. for the upcoming term, was fielding questions through a translator during a run-of-the-mill press conference, when he was suddenly involved in what the Iraqi people have recently called "Shoe Loveball."
Unfortunately for the President, he was once again ill-informed about the Iraqi people. The translator was just about to warn the President about the game but was not nearly quick enough. Before anyone could realize what was about to transpire, two shoes from an Iraqi journalist were flung at the Presidential podium.
According to the official rules of Iraqi Shoe Loveball, any person hit twice with a single person's shoe is legally betrothed to the owner of the shoe and bound by Allah into a subservient marriage. If the first shoe hits, but the second shoe misses, then the thrower of the shoe is allowed one suicide bombing in any territory within the victim's ownership. If the second shoe hits after missing the first shoe, it is considered ultimate shame, and the thrower gets to make fun of the victim's mother for all eternity.
However, as stated, only if both shoes hit will the owner of the shoe be rewarded. The thrower in this case, is not rewarded with forced betrothal, but rather, rewarded with 72 virgins in heaven, on top of any accumulated virgins already earned. Only the owner of the shoe gains a new spouse if both shoes hit. The accurate thrower is rewarded in the afterlife and is usually recruited to the Afghan Hills, a friendly hunting team based somewhere in the caves around Mt. Noshaq, the highest point in Afghanistan. Their training is renowned for the thoroughness of its trainees and their fierce diplomatic prowess.
Luckily for President Bush, both shoes missed. According to the Official Handbook of Shoe Loveball, a supplementary pamphlet to the Qur'an with colored illustrations, anytime two shoes are thrown and both are missed, the recipient of the shoe-flinging is allowed to remained occupied in both the owner's and the thrower's countries. If the owner and the thrower of the shoes are from different countries, then the winner of the round is allowed to occupy both countries and gets to roll again.
Occupation of countries with the same color, like Boardwalk and Park Place, are of special value, since rent can be increased astronomically with the addition of hotels.
For example, dodging two shoes from a thrower born in Syria, with the owner of the shoes born in Afghanistan (both Peach Territories) would be ideal in securing oil lines and surrounding larger markets like ever-friendly state of Iran. Such manipulation of international real estate is a valuable and viable alternative to the spiraling housing market of America. Bush thus has made progress.
This game is similar in principle to the American board game of Monopoly, which had a name change from the slightly less-popular "Worlddominationpoly." Actually, Shoe Loveball and Monopoly have nothing in common except for the fact that one party must own everything to win.
George Bush's dodging ability had never been questioned prior to his impromptu round of Shoe Loveball. He has been dodging legitimate reasons to go to Iraq for eight years, and this trip was no different.
Understandably, the game of Iraqi Shoe Loveball is a complicated and convoluted one, filled with ancient traditions and rules. However, one thing is certain: Bush's dodging of the shoes is an adequate metaphor for his regime's foot out the door of American politics. The Bush administration, however, has not completely failed. If anything, this week's shoe flinging finally brought to light the heinous weapons of mass destruction the Iraqi government was hiding all this time.
"I knew it," Bush replied, smiling as if he actually did.
A smile the majority of the country now equates accurately to trisomy 21.
Reporting nude and alone in Baghdad, Andrew Nguyen, AP.
Albert Lamorisse, Charles Darrow and Allah contributed to this story.
Unfortunately for the President, he was once again ill-informed about the Iraqi people. The translator was just about to warn the President about the game but was not nearly quick enough. Before anyone could realize what was about to transpire, two shoes from an Iraqi journalist were flung at the Presidential podium.
According to the official rules of Iraqi Shoe Loveball, any person hit twice with a single person's shoe is legally betrothed to the owner of the shoe and bound by Allah into a subservient marriage. If the first shoe hits, but the second shoe misses, then the thrower of the shoe is allowed one suicide bombing in any territory within the victim's ownership. If the second shoe hits after missing the first shoe, it is considered ultimate shame, and the thrower gets to make fun of the victim's mother for all eternity.
However, as stated, only if both shoes hit will the owner of the shoe be rewarded. The thrower in this case, is not rewarded with forced betrothal, but rather, rewarded with 72 virgins in heaven, on top of any accumulated virgins already earned. Only the owner of the shoe gains a new spouse if both shoes hit. The accurate thrower is rewarded in the afterlife and is usually recruited to the Afghan Hills, a friendly hunting team based somewhere in the caves around Mt. Noshaq, the highest point in Afghanistan. Their training is renowned for the thoroughness of its trainees and their fierce diplomatic prowess.
Luckily for President Bush, both shoes missed. According to the Official Handbook of Shoe Loveball, a supplementary pamphlet to the Qur'an with colored illustrations, anytime two shoes are thrown and both are missed, the recipient of the shoe-flinging is allowed to remained occupied in both the owner's and the thrower's countries. If the owner and the thrower of the shoes are from different countries, then the winner of the round is allowed to occupy both countries and gets to roll again.
Occupation of countries with the same color, like Boardwalk and Park Place, are of special value, since rent can be increased astronomically with the addition of hotels.
For example, dodging two shoes from a thrower born in Syria, with the owner of the shoes born in Afghanistan (both Peach Territories) would be ideal in securing oil lines and surrounding larger markets like ever-friendly state of Iran. Such manipulation of international real estate is a valuable and viable alternative to the spiraling housing market of America. Bush thus has made progress.This game is similar in principle to the American board game of Monopoly, which had a name change from the slightly less-popular "Worlddominationpoly." Actually, Shoe Loveball and Monopoly have nothing in common except for the fact that one party must own everything to win.
George Bush's dodging ability had never been questioned prior to his impromptu round of Shoe Loveball. He has been dodging legitimate reasons to go to Iraq for eight years, and this trip was no different.
Understandably, the game of Iraqi Shoe Loveball is a complicated and convoluted one, filled with ancient traditions and rules. However, one thing is certain: Bush's dodging of the shoes is an adequate metaphor for his regime's foot out the door of American politics. The Bush administration, however, has not completely failed. If anything, this week's shoe flinging finally brought to light the heinous weapons of mass destruction the Iraqi government was hiding all this time.
"I knew it," Bush replied, smiling as if he actually did.
A smile the majority of the country now equates accurately to trisomy 21.
Reporting nude and alone in Baghdad, Andrew Nguyen, AP.
Albert Lamorisse, Charles Darrow and Allah contributed to this story.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Rosebud...
The following is a list of things I want to accomplish before I die. The beauty of this list is that I don't have anything vague in here, such as "fall desperately in love" or "find eternal happiness." Those kinds of wishes point to the weaknesses of indecision and lack of creative happiness. If your are reading this, I want you to make a list and post it to me as a comment. And be serious (that's for you, Jag).
EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that a simple IM is better than a comment, so do whichever gives you most comfort! =)
25 THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH BEFORE DEATH:
1. Graduate from dental school.
2. Watch 5000 movies.
3. Garner a massive, wall-breaching DVD collection, only consisting of movies I love.
4. Take a cross-country road trip.
5. Have my honeymoon in Tahiti.
6. Visit the following places: Vietnam; Amritsar, India; Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, China; the fjords of Norway; Ireland, Wales, UK; the Mediterranean coast; Jerusalem; Dubai.
7. Spend a whole day with the woman I love watching and singing along with Disney movies.
8. Have one of my good friends preside as a priest to my wedding (and baptizing my children too!).
9. Have my brother be my best man at my wedding, since it would be impossible to decide which one of my many good friends would be best man. I'll probably have 5 other groomsmen, haha.
10. Get (good) season tickets to see the Warriors.
11. Be able to bench press 250 pounds (and no more!).
12. Live to see marriage rights for same-sex couples, so all my friends have a right to get married.
13. Not say a word for an entire week.
14. Be involved in the making of a studio film, be it writing, acting or directing.
15. Win an Oscar (or at least get nominated).
16. Visit Disneyland everyday for a week with a group of friends with whom I know I'll never get tired.
17. Spend a whole day at the movies (that's the first showing of a movie until after a midnight showing).
18. I'd like to grow my hair out until I get a ponytail.
19. Then I'd like to shave my head.
20. Make a YouTube video that would get 1 million views and a 5 star rating.
21. Sing a duet with the woman I love in front of a large crowd.
22. Take a cruise across an ocean.
23. Finish my education in Spanish and Vietnamese. Learn Korean and French.
24. Own a sport bike.
25. Write a best-selling memoir.
As you can see, I will delay studying for finals for as long as necessary.
EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that a simple IM is better than a comment, so do whichever gives you most comfort! =)
25 THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH BEFORE DEATH:
1. Graduate from dental school.
2. Watch 5000 movies.
3. Garner a massive, wall-breaching DVD collection, only consisting of movies I love.
4. Take a cross-country road trip.
5. Have my honeymoon in Tahiti.
6. Visit the following places: Vietnam; Amritsar, India; Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, China; the fjords of Norway; Ireland, Wales, UK; the Mediterranean coast; Jerusalem; Dubai.
7. Spend a whole day with the woman I love watching and singing along with Disney movies.
8. Have one of my good friends preside as a priest to my wedding (and baptizing my children too!).
9. Have my brother be my best man at my wedding, since it would be impossible to decide which one of my many good friends would be best man. I'll probably have 5 other groomsmen, haha.
10. Get (good) season tickets to see the Warriors.
11. Be able to bench press 250 pounds (and no more!).
12. Live to see marriage rights for same-sex couples, so all my friends have a right to get married.
13. Not say a word for an entire week.
14. Be involved in the making of a studio film, be it writing, acting or directing.
15. Win an Oscar (or at least get nominated).
16. Visit Disneyland everyday for a week with a group of friends with whom I know I'll never get tired.
17. Spend a whole day at the movies (that's the first showing of a movie until after a midnight showing).
18. I'd like to grow my hair out until I get a ponytail.
19. Then I'd like to shave my head.
20. Make a YouTube video that would get 1 million views and a 5 star rating.
21. Sing a duet with the woman I love in front of a large crowd.
22. Take a cruise across an ocean.
23. Finish my education in Spanish and Vietnamese. Learn Korean and French.
24. Own a sport bike.
25. Write a best-selling memoir.
As you can see, I will delay studying for finals for as long as necessary.
Friday, December 12, 2008
More School
I know it's not quite as late as I normally post, but I thought I'd be better off dedicating the rest of my night/morning to the age-old habit of studying. As old as time itself, pulling all-nighters has been a tradition of college students globally. Who am I to break and challenge tradition?
Tonight I feel obligated to relate a story. In lieu of my friend Travis leaving next semester, I thought I'd mention him before year's end. He came in my room today, accompanied by the ever-hilarious Craig Jeong (strangely not of Korean descent, but that's another story for another late night).
We swapped stories about fights and what-not. Charles relayed some hilarious ones about how he cried in the fifth grade. It has been awhile since I have personally been involved in a fight. Surprisingly, I haven't gone fist-to-fist with anyone here yet.
The closest I've been to a fight, as I told it to my four friends, was when I was at a house party a few months ago.
It was a rather large party, probably a bit over a hundred people there. Some people were intoxicated, and I'll refrain from revealing my own physical condition simply because I don't want to get too personal on such a public forum.
Anyways, people were intoxicated. As such, people got boisterous. As a matter of fact, there were multiple very loud people, many of which were Lakers' fans. Being from the Bay Area, I am naturally a Golden State Warriors fan. Inevitably, our love for our respective basketball teams clashed. It was an interestingly heated exchange, my one to their multitude.
So I was exchanging insults with a crowd of Lakers' fans, among them my roommate, Danny. One of these Lakers' fans had a friend named Steve, who was not a fan himself, but rather, was friends with the general crowd of raucous malcontents. While this exchange was happening, and it was happening rather chaotically, Danny was yelling at me, defending the honor of the beloved Los Angeles Lakers.
"Andrew!" he joked out loud. "Wanna take this outside? HUH? HUH?!"
I obviously had no desire to leave the premises of the party in order to engage in violent combat with a person from whom I slept six feet away every night. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to fight either.
However, neither of our opinions were shared by Steve, who quickly grabbed my collar and brought me close to his face. Now, Steve is not a very tall man, but nor was he lacking in strength. As a matter of fact, with that grab, I fully began to appreciate the bulk of his muscles. His biceps were roughly equivalent in size to a newborn rhinocerous, or a rhino calf (though I like Yahoo! user Nemo's answer best).
So he brought me close to him and said to me, "Hey. You better cool it. Your friend says he wants to take this outside. We can go outside if you want."
So yes, Danny almost got my ass kicked. I repeat, Danny almost got my ass kicked.
I'll let the reader decide whether Danny was drunk or not.
Tonight I feel obligated to relate a story. In lieu of my friend Travis leaving next semester, I thought I'd mention him before year's end. He came in my room today, accompanied by the ever-hilarious Craig Jeong (strangely not of Korean descent, but that's another story for another late night).
We swapped stories about fights and what-not. Charles relayed some hilarious ones about how he cried in the fifth grade. It has been awhile since I have personally been involved in a fight. Surprisingly, I haven't gone fist-to-fist with anyone here yet.
The closest I've been to a fight, as I told it to my four friends, was when I was at a house party a few months ago.
It was a rather large party, probably a bit over a hundred people there. Some people were intoxicated, and I'll refrain from revealing my own physical condition simply because I don't want to get too personal on such a public forum.
Anyways, people were intoxicated. As such, people got boisterous. As a matter of fact, there were multiple very loud people, many of which were Lakers' fans. Being from the Bay Area, I am naturally a Golden State Warriors fan. Inevitably, our love for our respective basketball teams clashed. It was an interestingly heated exchange, my one to their multitude.
So I was exchanging insults with a crowd of Lakers' fans, among them my roommate, Danny. One of these Lakers' fans had a friend named Steve, who was not a fan himself, but rather, was friends with the general crowd of raucous malcontents. While this exchange was happening, and it was happening rather chaotically, Danny was yelling at me, defending the honor of the beloved Los Angeles Lakers.
"Andrew!" he joked out loud. "Wanna take this outside? HUH? HUH?!"
I obviously had no desire to leave the premises of the party in order to engage in violent combat with a person from whom I slept six feet away every night. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to fight either.
However, neither of our opinions were shared by Steve, who quickly grabbed my collar and brought me close to his face. Now, Steve is not a very tall man, but nor was he lacking in strength. As a matter of fact, with that grab, I fully began to appreciate the bulk of his muscles. His biceps were roughly equivalent in size to a newborn rhinocerous, or a rhino calf (though I like Yahoo! user Nemo's answer best).
So he brought me close to him and said to me, "Hey. You better cool it. Your friend says he wants to take this outside. We can go outside if you want."
So yes, Danny almost got my ass kicked. I repeat, Danny almost got my ass kicked.
I'll let the reader decide whether Danny was drunk or not.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Bioinformatics, FTW!
bi·o·in·for·mat·ics n. (used with a sing. verb)
The use of computer science, mathematics, and information theory to model and analyze biological systems, especially systems involving genetic material.
So my bioinformatics report is due in less than 12 hours. I think I've made great strides in finishing it, though. After my peer review, which was done by the great Doo Lim, I got the paper to be more focused. I must admit, though, Mr. Lim is a very interestingly concise and good peer editor. His comments on each section of my paper were astonishingly in-depth, as exemplified with my favorite comment below:
"Abstract: Nonexistant"
Needless to say, his other critiques more than made up for it.
Yes, I'm screwed for this.
Anyways, this week AXE, my fraternity, is selling holiday grams near the Univeristy Center. Since our banner is too large for the table, we had to duct tape it to a light pole on one end and to the end of the table on the other end. People can see us better that way.
Yours truly did the taping of the duct, but such rigorous manual labor forced me furhter into insane thought: Why is Gorilla tape so awesome?
It's "incredibly strong" but I don't think it's quite comparable to a REAL gorilla's grip. Plus, why would you sell a product that has a hairy arm holding it? Gorillas are just scary. Their arms are unnaturally hairy. I mean, how does hair like that even begin to develop?
That kind of hair reminds me of my friend Jagmeet. He's hairy. He's also a covert terrorist. He told me he reads this blog, so I thought I'd return the favor and indulge his hairy ego by mentioning him.
I'm scared though. He might praise Allah all over my residence hall.
I hate racist jokes like that. I hope it was funny enough to compormise my morality though. Jag would compromise his life for his religious morality. F-ing AYrab.
Yeah, I really dislike racism.
But seriously, I taped that banner well, almost too well.
It was gorilla-tape-nice-and-tight.
The use of computer science, mathematics, and information theory to model and analyze biological systems, especially systems involving genetic material.
So my bioinformatics report is due in less than 12 hours. I think I've made great strides in finishing it, though. After my peer review, which was done by the great Doo Lim, I got the paper to be more focused. I must admit, though, Mr. Lim is a very interestingly concise and good peer editor. His comments on each section of my paper were astonishingly in-depth, as exemplified with my favorite comment below:
"Abstract: Nonexistant"
Needless to say, his other critiques more than made up for it.
Yes, I'm screwed for this.
Anyways, this week AXE, my fraternity, is selling holiday grams near the Univeristy Center. Since our banner is too large for the table, we had to duct tape it to a light pole on one end and to the end of the table on the other end. People can see us better that way.
Yours truly did the taping of the duct, but such rigorous manual labor forced me furhter into insane thought: Why is Gorilla tape so awesome?
It's "incredibly strong" but I don't think it's quite comparable to a REAL gorilla's grip. Plus, why would you sell a product that has a hairy arm holding it? Gorillas are just scary. Their arms are unnaturally hairy. I mean, how does hair like that even begin to develop?That kind of hair reminds me of my friend Jagmeet. He's hairy. He's also a covert terrorist. He told me he reads this blog, so I thought I'd return the favor and indulge his hairy ego by mentioning him.
I'm scared though. He might praise Allah all over my residence hall.
I hate racist jokes like that. I hope it was funny enough to compormise my morality though. Jag would compromise his life for his religious morality. F-ing AYrab.
Yeah, I really dislike racism.
But seriously, I taped that banner well, almost too well.
It was gorilla-tape-nice-and-tight.
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