What I'm thankful for

Boba on Thanksgiving.


Grandma who drinks boba on Thanksgiving.

Would you rather...

...Drown in mayo or be stoned to death with pickles? Be invisible or fly? Do cartwheels constantly or be striped like a zebra? Eat a bar of soap or drink a bottle of dishwashing liquid? Speak backwards or only be able to mouth words silently? Be married to Bush or Palin?

And most importantly, drink boba everyday or never drink boba again, EVER?

I think I know what your answer would be. And I think you know mine, too.

Anyways, I'd gone a whole month without boba until tonight, when I hit up Boba Loca near USC. It was meh, but it's kinda like this: If you haven't had ________ in a month, any ________ is good.

I know what you're thinking. And you probably know what I'm thinking, too.



(Boba, of course.)

It's all for you

For my loyal readers: If you don't know this already, Boba Find will hook you up with boba places in your zip code. Of course, this makes my blog less relevant and useful to you, but I'm hoping you love me enough to overlook that fact.

(Thanks to the future Dr. Lin, who introduced me to this gem.)

A first

Los Angeles - This is my first blog entry that's not about boba. Rather, it's about the absence of boba in my life. I think I've gone a solid month without a single sip of boba. A month! How did I function these last 30 days?

I didn't even celebrate the election with boba. (And really, if there was ever reason to celebrate...) That's pretty weird, given the fact that I've actually made up reasons, and possibly holidays, to celebrate just so I could justify having boba.

I think I need a boba buddy. Someone to keep me motivated and on my game. My reader(s) are counting on me, after all.