Subway and bus rides to work can be a frightening place if you loathe public transportation. Luckily, I don’t. But I do find myself bored/needing a shield from wandering eyes and weirdos. So I turn to my iPhone readers… My favorite being Pocket, where you can read online articles offline… so it comes in handy when I need my fix of ThoughtCatalog and get some other reading done. The other day a guy was looking through my phone (Did I want to cry/shit my pants? Yes) and briefly scrolled through my saved articles on my Pocket app. Thank you, baby Jesus that he didn’t decide to read in depth the titles of my articles, because he would have ran the other way… fast. So I present to you, the 7 most recently read articles on my Pocket.
Lets just say I sit somewhere in between the “Forever Alone” and the “Well Adjusted Single Person”. Why, might you ask? (Or maybe you didn’t ask because obviously you know me too well or can tell from my blog) Well, just read on…
This dude knows my struggles as a non-stereotypical Asian. Ask me for help with your calculus/math homework one more time, and I swear to God I will flip a switch. I’m not good at math you motherfuckers. Just like the assholes in foreign countries (especially Europe) who think that just because I’m Asian I speak Chinese. One time I was walking through the Grand Bazaar in Turkey, and this Turkish merchant looks at me and goes, “Konnichiwa!” BITCH! First of all, I’m not fucking Japanese dude. Second of all, I don’t speak Japanese. Third of all, I don’t speak any Asian language. Lastly, I’m not from the motherland of Asia… I’m AMERICAN. Amurrrica bitches.
Enough said. But I’m not proud… per se.
Maybe not the same reasons. But close enough.
True story. It’s a tough life when the streets of NYC are full of gorgeous, handsome men.
I can empathize with this chick. Can’t call that racist now, can you?
This just justifies my profanity. Apparently swearing is good for you, and makes you feel good. That’s right motherfuckers.
You get the picture. Needless to say, what I read could possibly say a lot about me. Or does it? Maybe I’m not a needy, forever alone, single, hopeless asian racist who swears too much. Or maybe I am. You make the call.