J texted to check out his "show" on youtube. He was wearing an apron that looked more like a kilt and a floral jacket. It was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen on a guy. I didn't even know the designer does male clothings. I thought she only specialized on bridal which, judging from the glorified apron, is probably what she should do. I watched 17 Again with T and F last friday. Zac Efron was terrific. I bet he wouldn't look ridiculous in kilt and floral.
Everyone's going to Europe. My ex-roommate is doing a semester abroad near Paris, and D and M have started Paris IV. I can't wait to graduate and move there. Take a BGF, move into the Latin Quarter, I'd even stay in a dorm if it comes to that. Focus, Ry. A year more, a year and a half at most, and (fingers crossed) I'm off to old rive gauche.
So, last week I came back from WLC in Singapore. Every night of the conference we had to work on the position paper until late, so I didn't get to do a lot of things I planned to do, like visit my old schools and hostels and have dinner with the girls. I only got a chance to meet Y, and that was only because she had a long lunch break one day and I skipped a banner-making session to run off to citylink. I helped her shop for office shoes. Fine, I bought a pair, too, but only because she picked it for me and she had vouchers. One should not waste vouchers. It's rude. The conference was awe-some. I loved every minute. And the cool thing is that I got to stay in the vice-ambassador's place. The post is empty so a friend and I had the entire house to ourselves, with two maids and a chauffeur-driven black lexus. The entire manse and car had tinted windows - very secret service-ish.
Grandma M died last week. She's not really my grandmother, more like my grandmother's cousin, but she's always been a dear. Mother went to her wake and ran into my editor, who excitedly offered more work to finish this summer, interviewing another ambassador. It's probably a necessary part of the long and winding road towards becoming the next anderson cooper/christiane amanpour. Anderson cooper's gay, by the way. Just like J. Every single person I'm into these days turns out to be gay. (Sorry J. Don't worry, you know I'm over it.) Maybe I am turning into a fag hag. Oh bugger.
I took down the samurai from my room's wall. I'm afraid it gives people the wrong impression. Okay, it's actually because I'm reading Anne Rice and the specter makes things on the wall tremble at night and horrifies the poor suckers into paranoia. And last night was kinda windy. And the samurai was quivering a bit. Who needs samurais on walls anyway? I should probably go to sleep. I only blog when I can't sleep. I'm probably going to have a very disturbing nightmare about a kilt-wearing earthquake-inducing ghost who is also, chances are, gay. Oh well.