In the second grade there were 4 females that I found attractive. One was Darla from the Little Rascals. One was Cindy from the Brady Bunch. One was a cartoon which I think was either Penelope Pitstop or Tinkerbell. The last one was the only one that I had seen in real life. She was a girl named Diane who was in my class. I liked the fact that she was honest because when we played Seven Up, sometimes I would press her thumb down and later if she correctly guessed that it had been me I would deny it and thus not lose. Actually thinking about it now this speaks more to my own dishonesty.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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