Those probably aren't cashews, gorgeous.
So I'm done for the semester. Hooray? The last exam was a bit brutal, though. My Writing Systems prof is a treacherous bastard when it comes to writing exams. The wonderful lectures lure you in, his quaint Texas drawl and cute anecdotes making you lean in closer and closer, but it's all a ploy so he can stab you in the face come finals season.
I has a fireball! I happened to be taking out the trash when that fucker went off last night, though I was far enough away that it was more of a whoomph and a warm glow on the horizon than anything. Shit's got to stop blowing up in this town.
And for some reason I just can't stop laughing about the Muntadhar al-Zaidi shoe toss. That took diamond cojones, though I fear that he's going to have a one-way ticket to Guantánamo for his efforts. I hate to say it, but Bush also did a remarkable job of avoiding. He's spry! I guess all that draft-dodging was good practice.
(On a related note: Wikipedia, is there anything you can't do?)
