Orgasms, Served Straight Up

Teuscher (pronounced: toy-shur) Champagne Chocolates are amazing. I remember having a box a year ago, and I nearly died in pleasure. Yesterday, a friend bought me a couple. While eating them, we basically trotted down Newbury Street grunting at suits and Lacoste-clad Europeans.

Anyways, you must try some. They're made with Dom Perignon Champagne, which kind of justifies the price. But it's worth it.

I'm An Intern At CVS

"So Mick's moving to Allston soon, but he got into the University of York in England."

"Wait, so he's going to the university, right?"

"Yeah, but I think he's gonna take a year off and just hang in Allston or something. I hope everything will fall in place like that for me."

"Yup, hopefully it will."

At this age, you are constantly muddled with the idea of grades and extracurricular activities on your college transcript. Ironically, most of us use the lazy excuse half the time to ward of the terrible idea of studying in a sedentary manner. Honestly, does anyone know how much grades and/or the bullshit we go through in high school counts in the end (as in, up to the point where you're questioning your mid-life crisis)?

"Most Asian parents want their kids to go into pharmaceuticals."

"Uh huh, my grandma is trying to convince me that it's the equivalent of all of life's happiness."

"Well, you do get about $70,000 to $80,000 as salary right off the bat."

"I guess so... But I think if I worked in a pharmacy for my whole life, I'd create a pill for suicide in the process."

"Yeah, exactly what I was thinking. It's easy money, though."

I'm young. I want to do something I enjoy doing. I'm a fucking label and everyone over the age of twenty-five knows it. Obviously I want to be making some moolah in the future, but the question is more, how you end up doing just that. If your idea of happiness is a fairly stable and dull occupation balanced out with your (future) family excursions to Disneyland in the family-care-package, then yeah, I guess you would like that very much. Not that I'm bashing that kind of lifestyle, but it's not for me.

I say that I should follow my original life plans and move to Greenwich Village with Diana after adopting a Rumanian daughter named Chloé.

I Happen To Feel Like Writing

So I haven't written in months on some kind of online posting site. I'm definitely sorry that I don't use livejournal, deadjournal, myspace, or xanga. I USED to use asianavenue. Unfortunately, AA has turned into a complete hell hole with adolescent gangster wannabes and/or stupid cutesy Asian girls. Too bad, since you could do whatever you want with the blank space they gave you.

As you all know, I am a Bostonian. And what the fuck do Bostonians do in the summer? We go down to the fucking Cape for the hell of it. I do have to admit though, P-town has a very giddy, and magical aura, especially after you see a sign reading, "Tattoos From The Bearded Lady". Absolute wonderland. Speaking of wonderland, I had no idea there's a station named "Wonderland" on the Blue Line until Wednesday, where I Starbucked my way through the ninety minute fast-ferry ride.

This past weekend has been socially thriving. My soiree on Saturday was a plenthora of calorific Chinese takeout, sweat, and quality German cake. We ended up having a dancing orgy in my sauna-like computer room, my one picture of cutting the cake had some serious cleavage, and I successfully helped my mother in spiting the other side of my small (but nonetheless divided) family. Sunday, I woke up terribly sore and lazy. Politesse little me was supposed to write thank you notes, but I dozed of somewhere in the middle of the day.

I also realize that I'm going to be back in school in about two weeks. The teenage population is divided on "Yes, I am so excited to go back and see everyone, but I'm too arrogant to admit it" or... "No, I still fucking hate that place." I can't decide between the two after I placed my order on my L.L. Bean backpack.

Summer has passed, but I am again journeying into vast lands...or Hell, literally. According to Princess Cruise Package, Grand Cayman has a little village named Hell, all in the middle of tropical paradise. Don't you love that contradiction?

And.... after Sunday... Ta-Da! I'm still awake.




HELL!!!