Doesn't that look pretty? And isn't that such a fancy French word?
It means gasoline.
You, my dearest reader ( I am convinced there will be at least one of you) are now involved in a very common, but fascinating incident. The 'Procrastination of Super Important Things' incident. I have a huge test tomorrow, and I'm only hurting myself by not shoving my nose in-between the glossy, smelly, marked up textbook pages. . . but making a grilled Apple-Brie sandwich seemed so much more beneficial at the time.
Sleep sounds pretty nice too.
But passing that exam? Priceless.
What's the point here? There is none.
Someday I'll write an anthropological-esque entry on what I've observed during the day, focusing on the behavioral habits and adaptations of traditional middle-class college students in middle America and it's effects on the psyche of the subject and the culture of the surrounding area.
Until then. . .
Amy
Ciao, dahling.
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