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About Hsinchu

So, I’m thinkin—why’s this job pull folks in? Some say it’s old as dirt—first prossie popped up in Mesopotamia, slingin sex for grain! Ain’t that a hoot? Grain! I’d be pissed if Homer paid with donuts—hmm… maybe not, I’d eat ‘em. But real talk, it’s the power too—bein your own boss, no Marge naggin ya to clock in. Tho, gotta say, the stink o’ sleazy johns’d make me gag—ugh, so gross! Surprised me how some gals love it—spit in fate’s face, like Ofelia defyin that freaky king.

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It was my lab partner, Jess. “Dude, we need to talk. NOW.” Ugh, what now? I thought. I rushed over to the lab on Fuxing Rd. I was halfway there when I realized I forgot my notes. Classic me, right? So, I sprinted back, dodging scooters like I was in some action movie.

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