I just kind of realized how immature I am.

Like, farting is hilarious. I always get a kick out of listening and telling true fart stories to people. Farting and then passing it to your friend via waving-hand motion is really satisfying.

Naked artsy people make me giggle–but I try to giggle on the inside since it’s not really nice to laugh at naked artsy people. I took a life drawing class last year, and it took me a while not to look like I was trying to hold my breath (from laughing) every time a model disrobed in front of the class.

I like pressing buttons, more specifically, unfamiliar buttons, buttons I’ve never pressed before (omfg), just to see what it would trigger. The anticipation is the best part, but sometimes the outcome of pressing a button can be really anticlimactic, aka the one’s that doesn’t work.

And the worst of all (I cringe as I begin to type the inevitable), I own guns…toy guns. Though uh I really don’t feel like explaining what I do with them.

Oh yeah true story, when the workers were cleaning out my bedroom for renovation, the cute younger one came up to me with a box and asked, “Did you want to keep these with you?” Confused, I glanced at the box and noticed that he was holding a box of my toy guns. If there was ever a time I wanted to kill myself, it would be that time.

And the point of all this? Nothing really, I just don’t want to work on my finals. Carry on.

PS – I am still screwed.

If you guys happen to be around Fullerton, Ca I really, really suggest going to a teahouse called Veronese Cafe. Their food and drinks are a bit pricey but the place is so visually striking that you really don’t care what you’re going to buy there as long as it’s good (which it IS).  Picture a backyard with a garden that’s filled with a plethora of vintage junk and weird random knick knacks hanging off the walls, surrounded by couches, chairs, and tables of sorts and you have one great fucking tea house.

My friends and I went there last night.  We ate, we drank, and played Dirty Minds which is a board game I’m not very good at because my mind is usually in the gutter and it can never really get out unless somebody explains it to me.

We also took pictures.  It took us about fifty shots to get one good photo where all of our faces were kept straight and oh so serious (we wanted to imitate those really old creepy photos where no one ever smiles), but even my face in there was a complete joke that Matt thought I was trying to hold in my farts.

On to school, remember that Vietnamese class I was talking about? Well I have a white man sitting next to me, probably in his mid-late forties.  He refers me as “em” which is in Vietnamese, can be used as a term of endearment or correct me if I’m wrong, it can also be used generally for younger people, right? He also told me I was naughty in Vietnamese once.  Yeah, I uh…have no idea where that came from, but I thought that was a little weird.

I also made a new friend in that class, and she’s pretty cool so far.  She can’t see red colors because she’s partially colorblind.  The last time I had class with her, she wore a red long sleeve shirt, so I informed her, “You know you’re wearing green right?” LOLZ.