I had an asian party, and I didn’t eat a lot.

*disillusioned*

*has lost part of personal identity*

*converts everything to sin/cos, adds a clever form of one, and pulls cotxsecx out of forehead*

*regains identity*

I think it was because most of the dishes were either meat (mom’s forte) or oxtail/”rice vermicelli” salad (dad’s forte). Used to subsiding on green stuff and fish, I didn’t eat with much vigor.


There were two young children. One constantly mixed up her consonants (as well as “up” and “down”) but was otherwise smart and cute. The other liked forks, bright lights, microwaves, steaming pots, cups, and styrofoam bowls. Combined, they made the house a waddling mess of flying viruses.

The fork-aficionado is half-Indian, half-Chinese. Just the melange of stereotypes boggles my mind.

He also kissed Mr. Squishyfish.

Now Mr. Squishyfish is kissing the Ionic Breeze.

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