George Carlin Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. "How old are you?" "I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead. "How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16!" You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life . . . you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony . . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!! But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed? You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHIN...
By David Farley The cab driver stopped on the bustling boulevard Pho Hue and pointed at a mishmash of incongruent four and five-story buildings across the street. I hopped out and dodged buzzing motorbikes and exhaust-belching cars, trying to get from curb to curb. Then I spotted it: Banh Mi Pho Hue (118 Phố Huế; 84-4-3822-5009), the no-frills sandwich shop named for the Hanoi street on which it sits. Nearly everyone I’d asked had said Banh Mi Pho Hue served the tastiest banh mi in Hanoi. But the family that’s run the shop since 1974 has a reputation for closing it whenever the cooks run out of ingredients. So when I arrived at 7pm on a Saturday and found it still open, I was delighted. Life in Hanoi. (Hoang Dinh Nam/Getty) Translated simply as “wheat,” the banh mi is a delicious and ever-varying combination of deli-style pork, pate and veggies (think carrots, cilantro, cucumber, etc), stuffed into a soft and crunchy French baguette. Regional variati...
It was evening and the ordeal of my 12 hours flight from Taipei had ended with a bus ride from the airplane to a very large building that I later came to know as the Tom Bradley International terminal, Los Angeles. Inside the huge building I got line for immigration, and what a long line it was. And there were so many more just like the one I was lost in. After shuffeling for what seemed like forever, with strangers bumping me, being rude with cell phone, coughing germs all over the place and doing other things people do in line, I finally was front and center. It was my turn! The INS officer official in his demeanor and smile, asked me several questions. I smiled at him and he continued as he smiled back...in his official way, big bright shinning badge, creased uniform and bald hair cut. "Mrs. Ton welcome back to America". I was a bit stupefied and tongue-tied. And his official smile....and that shining badge. A warm feeling and I realized that...
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