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So the brother walks into the bathroom while I'm washing my hands. He looks in the mirror and scrunches up his face and asks "Do I look scary?" I look up at his reflection for a second, shake my head and say "No...you look like the Pho King" (ahem AP gov/US people should know...) He then procedes to throw a mini tantrum complete with foot stomping whining "Stooop iiiiit!" My brother is a sixteen-year-old high school junior. The same person that my mom believes will help me with my math come second/third/fourth/fifth/tenth year when I'm taking my calculus and upper-division math classes. Scary thought.So I'm back in Irvine, land of barely edible food and 1/4 ply toilet paper. I missed my playlist. But that's about it. Ha. Anyhow, I'm in for my third quarter here at UCI and I'm dreading it. Whatever. I passed writing (whhhheeeehaaaaaaaaaa!!!!) and yes...what happens happens.
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