You were born on leap year?

In light of this year's leap year, which is tomorrow, I figured I'd talk about the summer's warmth and how when the sun hits your skin, it blossoms into the feeling only a peacock could experience. DJ, PLAY THAT BACK!

In light of this year's leap year, I figured I'd talk about...this year's leap year. Everyone jokes around about people who were born on the 29th of February in any year like, "Ohhh, hahaha you're only four years old today!" when obviously, you dummy, he/she is 16. Not a funny joke, not a cool friend, heard it all before--although I know not of anyone who was born on the 29th so that last statement is untrue.

What if though, in some opposite-Robin-William's-Jack-kind-of-way, your body only adapted to the official day you were born. So somehow, the universe knew you were born on the 29th of February and would only grow in a year increment every four years? Woooooah (Insert: Keanu Reeve's voice and eerie music).

Btw, leap year is when there's an extra day in the year to keep the calendar year synchronized with the astronomical or seasonal calendar. Basically, February every four years has 29 days instead of 28. Thought I'd throw that out since two people I asked what leap year is had no idea. And if you want to get scientific about leap year, shaaadapp.

Flushing the toilet on February 29th once every four years (or twice if my stomach is all hamajang),

Loa

Food Paparazzi

I sit here on a plate and I am pissed. This girl who has just ordered me is once again taking out her camera phone to snap a photo of me. I say once again because before I was cooked, I watched my cousin get broiled, put on a plate and brought to the same girl. She whipped out her camera, laughing with her friends trying to get the perfect shot to document her choice of food and make everyone jealous by posting it to her social media sites. Poor, Cousin Pork Choppy IV. I'm about to be another victim.

I wish we could go back in time. Generations and generations ago, there were no camera phones and we were just simply ate. No one posted us on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. We were only there to satisfy a hunger or taste--now we're labeled as "food porn." Um, I know what food and porn is, so like, ewww! How can I now be in a category under the word porn? I feel like I'm being wrongly exposed to strangers around the world.

We food are like those human celebrities trying to relax underneath the sun and everyone's taking pictures of us. No one needs to know how good we look. Why can't you just keep it to yourself? These fools with camera phones are abusing us. They don't pair us up with good wine or a tasty beer to make us happy as we are consumed--they take a picture and eat us like we're nobody. Well you know what, I'm someone! I said, I AM SOMEO...

Dammit, I'm in the belly of the beast.


Flushing the toilet from inside a stomach,


A Dead New York Steak

We want Jeremy Lin to retire, love Harvard

Dear Jeremy Lin,


We are the Harvard Student Council, and we'd like to personally congratulate you on your sudden success in the National Basketball Association (NBA). You have reached new heights in an area where we Harvard students do not usually prosper.

On that note, we'd also like to say that you are a traitor. You are now getting high praises for what we Harvard students do not strive for. We are academics, and academics only. At first, we were worried like, "Oh my, Jeremy entered the NBA draft!" But then you didn't get drafted so we were happy. Then you got picked up by the Golden State Warriors and we were worried again. But then you were released, picked up by the Houston Rockets, released, in the D-League, then picked up by the New York Knicks. All was still well because we knew you weren't going to get any play time.

Then we all know what happened: Linsanity. Ha! What a imbecilic and mindless nickname! You think you're so cool hanging out with that Carmelo guy who has those tattoos and that Amare guy who wears those glasses. Pssh...well you know what, you're not as cool as you think. They're not your people Jeremy, we're your people!

Excuse us for our informal speech, but we are just so fed up with you, Jeremy! We hold a high regard that no Harvard graduate should ever have as much success that you've managed to receive as an athlete. What would the man we named our school after, John Harvard, think if he knew that a graduate of this school was actually thriving in a sport rather than being a politician, businessman or an orchestra professional? He'd be rolling in his grave!

Remember you used to play the violin, and we'd all call you Jeremy Vio...lin? We would even use that pause when saying violin because you said it was humorous and it tickled your funny bone. Where did that Jeremy go? Who is this new Jeremy? Do you remember Henry Montgomery II? He bought 300 basketballs and inflated each and every one of them to give himself some hope that maybe this all was a dream.

We students at Harvard have initiated the "Don't Play Another Minute in the NBA, Play the Vio...lin" petition and believe me, the signatures are multiplying everyday. We'd strongly advise you to consider this letter as a caveat, and retire from the NBA to start working on getting a job in the economics sector since you did get your degree in Economics, right?

Again, you have not done the university a favor by playing this sweaty, stinky game called basketball at the professional level. Please do what we have asked and there will be no further actions on our part.



Flushing the toilet with sincereness (but not really),


The Harvard Student Council

Two separate horns in a car

Whenever you're driving, whether it'd be on a bumper-to-bumper street or a fast-paced freeway, you're bound to hear a few car horns honked your way or to a fellow driver. What car manufactures haven't thought about is a solution to vehicles only making one car-horned sound because you really don't know what the horn is suggesting. I say, make vehicles with two car horns.

Say you're driving on a street, and you see your friend biking on the side of the road. He's bumping his head and his earphones in, so you know he won't hear you when you go, "Hoooooo, Larry!" But he will hear you when you honk your horn. You honk twice, he looks your way, and he shakas in response to your honking. What you don't notice is the guy in front of you who thinks that you honked at him. He sticks his hand out of the window, eyes you out in his rearview mirror as to say, "Yeah, you think you so cool honking your horn, but you know what, you're not! Stop the car, let's fight to the death!"

The honk was taken in the wrong way.

Say you're driving on the freeway, and the car next to you unknowingly cuts you off, and you beep your horn and hold it down as to say, "Um...exxxxxcuuuuuse me! Who the hell do you think you are?! Stop the car, let's fight to the death!" But he hears the horn, smiles back at you in the rearview mirror, and throws out the shaka in response, thinking that it was a beep from his friend 'cause heck, he can't tell the difference in horn honking, it all sounds the same.

The honk was taken in the wrong way.

It would be very convenient if there were two separate horns in your car: one to say, "Hey, how are you?" and one to say, "I hope you go to sleep tonight with one eye open." That way, each receiver of a horn honk will be greeted according to how the horn honker intended to with no assumptions.

Another creation that would be helpful, and in no way against the law, would be a screen that is mounted onto your back window that allows you to type whatever you want the driver behind you to read.

If the car behind you is driving too close to your car, all you would have to do is type: "Hey man, you think you could be one car length behind me instead of being all up in my GRILL?! Lay off the gas, bro!"

If the car behind obviously looks super dumb and a dude is is driving it, and you want to start a fight: "Cool car, bro. Is your wife the mechanic of the house?"

If you accidentally cut a person off, and you felt the need to apologize because they honked one of their two horns in their car that honked negatively: "Sorry for cutting you off, can I buy you a 40 at the next gas station?"

If the car behind you is your grandma and you need to deliver a message: "Hey grandma, dinner at mom's house was changed from 6:30 to 7." She might be a bit freaked out, but it's better than texting her cave-woman's cell phone, and getting her into an accident (this device GUARANTEES you no accidents).

Whether it be a double-horned car or a screen that's mounted onto your back window, there needs to be a consideration to communicate what we're actually trying to say to the other car while driving. Help us, car manufactures, help you. Help us...help you.


Flushing the toilet while yelling HONK, HONK, HONKKKK,

Loa

I don't want to buy girl scout cookies

First and foremost, my apologies for not having written anything in a minute, I've been one, lazy, two, a girl, and three, lazy (I hate when people mention three things, but it's really only two things, with one being said twice. It's like, just because you can't think of a third thing, doesn't mean you can take the easy route and mention one thing twice).

"Would you like to support our soccer team and buy some cookies?" a little girl will ask me before I walk into the grocery store.

Her tone of voice and eyes make it hard to lie. "I'll get you guys when I come back out," I'll say in hopes that they forget me and what I said.

Trust me, I'm no A-hole, but I go to the grocery store merely to buy the necessities, and not to splurge on those tasty and tempting cookies.

Sometimes I'll catch the girls turning their back to me--"Perfs timing," I say to myself and hurry past them into the store. Other times they'll be talking to another grocery customer--"Perfs timing," I say to myself and hurry past them into the store.

Like I said, if they do in fact get in contact with me, I'm able to shut them down with my "I'll catch you on the way out" line, no problem. You'd think kids would be so damn cute and innocent that you couldn't help yourself but purchase at least a box of cookies, but it's actually the parents that I can't turn down.

When the girl asks me if I want to buy cookies, and her dad is standing behind her, staring at me like, "You better buy these damn cookies, or else you'll have a date with my fist in the parking lot," then of course, "I'll take a dozen of the Shortbread cookies and six (the dad squints his eyes at me even more), I mean a dozen of the Thin Mints too."

The girl joyfully turns around to her dad, "Daddy, daddy, this man bought 24 boxes of cookies!"

"Wow, what a great and giving man he is!" he tells her.

And now I'm left with only $15 to buy $120 worth of groceries. Thanks, pops.

If I keep up with my selfish ways where I avoid these little, ambitious kids, my future kids are screwed. No one will buy a single box of cookies from them, in no way do I have the physical appearance to eye out a customer behind my child to force them to buy cookies, and I'll have to buy their plane fares every single time for their sport trips.

That's why I'm writing this though; I've come to this realization that I have to support the children in their endeavors, so I've set up a jar, labeled "Girl Scout Cookies Fund" and I will be prepared to buy cookies from these blood sucking children!



Flushing the toilet with chocolate chip droppings,

Loa