Stink
Sunday, April 8th, 2007These are trying times. First the gruesome week-long withdrawals from quitting coffee. Then this.
“150,000 applications for 65,000 H1B visas - that’s what the US immigration services received within the first few hours of opening petitions for H1B visas. Since the number of applications received was already more than double the limit, the US immigration service office has now stopped taking any more petitions for this visa…
The US immigration services says it will now use computers to randomly pick visa recipients from the applications recieved. It is the first time that a lottery system is being used to pick H1B candidates."
Double the quota in one day! Last year I believe the quota was reached in a month. Two years ago: 4 months. How un-shocking that this year became this way.
And then there’s the awesome lottery system. I have never won any type of random drawings in my life, so forgive me if I don’t like my chances. And this is not to RECEIVE the visa, but merely to get processed.
I don’t even have a plan for if my deepest fear came true. And that’s rare. I’m a person with plans. So I find myself a little distracted lately: missing freeway exits, leaving my cellphone at work, drooling… (last one’s untrue)
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Somebody sent my office this delish bouquet from Edible Arrangements. I’d never heard of them before, but apparently they’re kinda popular. Good idea for Mothers Day (May 13th).
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Already it’s been a month since I moved to the house my brother lives in. I get the bigger room, obviously. And because we have full use of the kitchen, we’ve been eating a lotta bakso (my specialty) and fried rice (my brother’s). We’ve also had a huge spat. Yes, already. My confrontation style (debating) bugs him and his (silent treatment) bugs me. I’m a blower-upper, he’s a clammer-upper — great recipe for healthy siblingship. NOT. I realize though when I’m stressed at work or about the visa or the masters application, I lash out on that poor boy. I really should work on being nice to him even though he lives in the World of Warcraft.
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And a non-contender, Ringo. The only reason I’m on it is because, for some odd reason, it’s popular among PCC grads.
Ladies and gentlemen, the award goes to Facebook for letting us do SO MUCH and still keeping things under control. This is how a community website should be. The news feed, mini-feed, pokes, wall, My Mobile, My Events, and my favorite: the Friend Game.
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Watching the series House has helped my eating habit, believe it or not. When I’m munching on total junk, I get this vivid mental picture of my veiny, red heart beating really loud and then foam coming out of it. Or of some kind of ugly stone swimming along and then clogging my blood flow. Or of my brain getting electrocuted. Or of Sarcoidosis, Neurocystercercosis, or other really bad, smart-sounding disease names.
So my appetite for the family-size Cheetos pretty much goes away after all that.
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A tip for Indo’s who plan to eat durians in the States:
Don’t crack open the fruit in someone else’s house — they will kill you. Or at your own house when you know guests are coming — they will shun you.
I still don’t get why the odor offends some people, who have described it as smelling like "garbage, moldy cheese, or rotting fish.” I’m proud to say my mouth still waters at the smell, no matter how Americanized I may be.
Anyhow, durians are banned from a lot of public places in Singapore:
*I stole the pic and quoted from Han Tan’s Facebook Notes.
Also, speaking of offensive smells, Americans do not appreciate mothballs either (English for “Kamper”). You know that scent coming out of your luggages when you unpack after your trip home to Indo? Yah, they hate that. So don’t even think about putting them kampers in your clothes drawers in your dorm room. My non-Indo roommates would’ve drop-kicked my Indo roommate if I hadn’t interceded.
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Throwing birthday people into pools never gets old. Not even after college.
The distressed birthday girl — I crack up at how helpless she looks here:
