The Starbucks at Far East is gone.
I left the guys at Sean' s house, swigging a gin/peach tea combo, all crammed into his room and laughing like hell. I wish I could have stayed.
They were playing bagpipes (at least I think they were bagpipes) at Mr. Loh's wedding; they were entirely lovely. I think weddings must be stressful things. And for everybody. Unrelated, I still can't tell the difference between the Scottish and Irish accent. Brad Pitt's character in The Devil's Own had me clueless 'til they mentioned the IRA.
I wish I wasn't violently allergic to dust, because then I could clear rivers of papers without becoming wavery and watery, and then sick, so I'll just have to cough at everybody and feel like nothing is ever going to happen, feeling this way.
The guy at the VCD store kept shoving chick flicks at my sis and I. "I think Hilary Duff is cute," he says enthusiastically. Okayyy. But anyway. What a job I'd love to have.