The Time I Stole

I was recently asked to tell a time when I stole something.
This is the story –

In my freshman year at UC Berkeley, I lived in a dormitory called Bowles Hall. It looked and felt like the gloomy structure of an exact replica of Hogwarts.

The only difference was the ability to find an amazing woman like Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, or an Angelina Johnson to be walking the halls… because women didn’t exist at Bowles Hall!

Yes.
No women.
No magic.

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A Hot Date (a story)

I was recently asked to tell an embarrassing story.
This is the story –

Two years ago, the girlfriend at the time and I decided to have a home-cooked meal for our “date night.” We planned it all. We were going to make homemade Vietnamese pho and simply catch up on the lives we were leading.

Couple things. Couple goals. Relationship goals.
All those hashtags.

By the way this wasn’t some gentrified Asian-Fusion pho we (she) made. This was some high-quality dish where her ancestors would’ve been proud.

Be jealous.

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