Tanah Merah
If I hear him sing Guantanamera one more time, I will strangle his sorry abuelo ass.
We ate. Chicken. A lot of chicken. Chicken tastes abnormally good here in the East Coast.
Allahu akbar.
Then you burp, burp, slurp, slurp, and you say Alhamdullilah!
“My tooth is sick, can you help me?”
Indeed. His tooth is sick.
I met the real life equivalent of Jason Bourne. It was funny, until he started crying. Then I was just sad.
Then I watched Blue Harvest twice, because it was the only thing I could stomach that reminded me of you. Stewie made me laugh so damn hard, and I felt so much better.
I ate a waffle at a fiesta, and a French person with any knowledge of how good a waffle can be, said it was tres bien, Michelle!
Alors, j’aime les gaufres!
I also learned today that the French do not have a word for “like.” They “love” everything. I could deal with that.
He said he could listen to my anklet tinkle around the corridor all day long.
I was going to roll my eyes, so instead I laughed nervously.
Ethnocentrism is possibly the most unattractive trait in a human being. That, and unkindness. It makes me want to hurl.
It doesn’t matter what your circumstances are, apparently. If you are a mean person who looks down on someone, you will continue to do that even if you are in a terrible place. You asshole.
There is nothing wrong with being brown. I am just as okay as you.
Stupidity.
Being clever is not always the best thing to be.
I heard him whistle today, after hacking for about 10 minutes. I didn’t look up, but he was whistling Scorpion’s Winds of Change.
In Spanish, Die Hard is Jungla de Cristal! WTF is up with that?
I will always know that sound. And how I used to wonder what Gorky Park was.
Tomorrow, isla.
