Woot loot.

Got three random shirts from woot.com.  Overall, not bad at all.  Better than last time.   Check them out below. 

What is this shirt about?  Halp. 

Going bananas. I am going to wear this to my ochem (dum dum DUM) exam tomorrow. 

Zombeer.  This my favorite.  And just in time for Hollah-ween!


Bon Mots from English 1A

I was waived from taking English Composition at UCLA.  My IB test scores were high enough for the powers that be (heretofore in this blog referred to as the PTB) to decide that yes, I do know how to read and write English well enough to succeed in post-secondary education.  

Apparently this is not good enough for the PTB at San Joaquin Delta College.  

It's no real hardship or annoyance.  The class is easy enough, and I keep myself amused by coming up with silly titles to the assigned papers.  Case in point: 

"I Got It From My Mama: A study of matriarchal families and value systems." 


That tears it.

...I am so upset right now.  

There are two Canadian geese with their brood of five goslings running across the street in front of Java Aroma.  One is woefully slow, and is running to catch up!  The babies are so unspeakably fluffy!  The cars are stopping to let the geese cross!   Oh!  They are walking towards me!  ONE IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME WITH HIS ADORABLE BIRD FACE.  

I am never going anywhere without my camera ever again.  


Boob toob.

I walked out into the empty living room and there was porn playing on the tv.  WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT.


Hit and Miss

The past month in Stockton has been nothing but a series of eye-opening mini epiphanies.  Revelations include the opening of Java Aroma's second branch in the former location of the old Stockton Royal Theatre on Miracle Mile.  These days, if I want to see a movie I have to go to the Octoplex on West Lane or the Multiplex downtown.  Stockton also celebrated the grand openings of a BJ's, Borders, Lollicup and Panda Express- all things that I had long associated with Los Angeles.  

Apparently everything that has changed in Stockton in the past five years can be visually reduced to a collage of my childhood memories papered over with newspaper inserts of chain outlet advertisements.