.

Today's word of the day is - Tramp Stamp and/or  Slut Butt

Weeee for Edumacation!

I hear from Cindy that the two stars of The Notebook got together.

rawr?

Wow, I arrived at work at 6pm.

Right now it's totally dark in this room. I can't find the light switches and I am almost tripped the fire alarm. So right now, I'm working in the dark looking mad shady with the computer lighting my face. I actually got to talk to Ranuka who is working too. He gave me an update on his life and I updated him on the rest of us guys. 5 months of not talking and we get into a conversation of Canada's strip clubs. haha

All right, I actually do have work to finish by 8AM today. I swear!

I'll probably be arriving earlier than 6 pm from here on out since I parked in the sorta illegal free parking spot and not the one my company pays for (because they were taken! those bastards)

Bonus!

On the type of girl I like and relationships

    I once said that I liked girls that could sing. I lied about that. It's actually a girl that has a strong sense of who they are and can live independently of anyone else. I feel attracted to those girls who don't seem to be carrying around emotional baggage in which I have to deal with playing psychiatrist. (I've had enough of that just being friends with some people.) But I can understand why I like them now that I've pondered on it for a bit.

    When I get really cozy with someone I like, I find myself pulling back. It's not that I am not interested, but that I know that dealing with myself is a responsibility that keeps my hands tied up. I have trouble keeping myself looking sane to the world. When I have to add in the responsibilities of having a relationship, that's when I start to feel that the relationship thing isn't right for me.

    And sure, you can bring up many other cheesy lines such as "she has to support you too" and whatever other things you can think of, but in the end that's the reason for not taking that other step. I'm still immature.

    Relationships will have to wait.

    I just found the lightswitch.

I was working in excel on a weekly report I have to submit by end of day today and I went into work and doze mode. I exited the program without saving. Wow what a waste of time.

As far as I could remember, there has always been "the store".  

I remember second grade, walking home after school with my friends in the wake of nor'easter.  Laughing and running in the streets, we breathlessly climbed the steep snowbanks and covered our faces from the sharp blast of wind-carried snow as we breached the peak.  The harshness of winter could hardly dampen the enthusiasm of little kids.   In the distance, I could see the store disappearing and reappearing from view, approaching ever closer, as we conquered each snowbank.  I could almost make out a face, standing at the doorway, arms clasped around her chest, waiting patiently.

The store sits neatly at the corner of the street on the first floor of a larger apartment complex. It was a small structure with large windows to offer a view inside. Through the windows I can make out the Asian groceries, cans of Hoisin sauce, jars of hot chili peppers, and bottles of soy sauce neatly arranged and stacked on the shelves.  The vegetables and fruits, lay on the table beneath the window offering a glimpse of their glorious ripeness and fresh greenery to passerbys, a sharp contrast to the sterile whiteness of the snow outside.

As I arrived at the doorway, my mother, who had been overseeing my progress through the snow, returned to her work, picking through the withered green mints and sweet basils, which were not sold last week.  The dry cracked skin on her calloused hands reflected the harshness of this work.  Without pausing from her work, she pointed me to the hot cup of cocoa she had prepared to defrost my cold cheeks and red nose.  Even before I had finished the cocoa, she had already reminded me to change out of the coat and to begin my schoolwork promptly.

The store was the dream into which my parents poured all their hopes and energy.  After arriving in America with nothing but bare hands and a dream, they worked nights and weekends to save money.  With a small bank loan, an opportunity offered by the capitalism of the United States that had not existed in Vietnam, they built the store.  Of course, such opportunities did not come without sacrifice.  My mother left her job as a tutor teaching English to Vietnamese immigrants at the local schools to manage the store every day from morning till night.  My father, a test engineer at a computer manufacturer, woke up at before the break of dawn several times a week to drive to Boston and pick up produce for the store.  It was a labor of love that consumed all their energy and passion.

As we grew older, my brother and I became the de facto employees at the store.  Restocking the shelves, mopping the floor, and stacking boxes of inventories, we contributed what we could.  On certain weekends my brother came home from college to help out at the store.  After a few hours of hard labor, lugging sacks of jasmine rice about the store, we sat and sipped glasses of sugarcane juice.  My brother would inquisitively ask my mother, who sat there poring over books of receipts and bills, “Why do you work so hard?”  She would reply simply with a smile, “This is how we pay your college tuition.”

There is a certain truth and poignancy to her answer that means so much to me.  In many ways, the store is a manifestation of her dreams for my brother and me, a hope that hard work, dedication, and perseverance will yield success, not for her but for us.  The store has taught me of the courage and determination that is required to succeed in life.

http://www.cs.wright.edu/~pmateti/InternetSecurity/Lectures/WirelessHacks/Mateti-WirelessHacks.htm

4 Years ago, I got an instant message from some random person.

[Random]:hey
[Vinh]: Who is this?
[Random]: Ish me amy
[Vinh]: I don't know an Amy and what is an "ish"
[Random]: oh sowwy
[Vinh]: the fuck?

User Random is not available

How could I have known that it was an omen. An omen signaling THE DEATH OF ENGLISH

Since those 4 years, English has been butchered left and right. Senseless butchering that doesn't even make sense.

Example : Historicall noat: Dis is de verie music dat convincd DJ Jeanie to be frenz wif Mirander

Come
on! I can understand if you're trying to shorten your words but
Historical is an extra l away from being spelled correctly. You have
more incorrectly spelled words than correct words. Now I'll never know.
Why?

Because I felt so angry, I stabbed my eyes with a pencil to stop the pain. Oprah calls that self empowerment.

But
what really grinds my gears (+3 points for Family Guy reference), is
that in those scant 4 years, children at the age of 14 are now 18 and
are still spelling this way in college.

If you're one of the people who still type that way in college... You need your ass kicked.

Rock - Ish

Rap - Ish

Breakfast

Lunch

Dinner