Wednesday, March 24
2:53 am

does that come with fries?

well, class with the McHottie was just a big yawn with words. in treading the line between paying attention to his monologue (whilst paying equal attention to his fine, fine self) and playing pacman to keep the mind from snoredioactive meltdown (the lesser known of the meltdowns), i realised my steps took me quite comfortably to the dot-munching latter. but for all those who doubt that my love for him remains true, scoff not, for as long as this heart beats, my love for hotties will persevere.

besides, if you steer him in the right direction ("those darn engineers!", "speaking of bigamy sir, will you marry me?"), i bet he's a great conversationalist.

slacking through crim pays unexpected dividends though, i did better than expected for the assignment - by two grades, no less (which, considering what i got, says a lot more about my expectations than it does the grade). lunch afterwards saw 6 of us seated quite comfortably in Still Waters' merc, heading, at L's and HM's insistence, to some food court in moe that was featured in makansutra. let me just say here that it is near impossible to state, with a straight face, to a security guard that your only business at the official headquarters of our education ministry is "to, uh, eatatthefoodcourt."

by the by, dear biopolis planners, the underground carpark? serves to affirm every sad stereotype about dorky scientists / engineers / whateverthey'reallthesametome that has ever passed through the mocking minds of us literary types. "matrix"? "genome"? the laugh-laugh-snort sounds must've been deafening in the lab. tsk. you guys are nowhere near as cool as us law students. nowhere at all. (and here you'll just have to suspend your disbelief and pretend i linked to a post about survivor: law school and our memorably named tribes. you'd think someone would've blogged about them.)

oh, and in case you were wondering (and i know you were), the food wasn't all too bad. which, balanced against the legendary petrina embargo on all places smelly and gross, is praise indeed. bear in mind though, i only had cheese prata and some violently orange chicken. which, balanced against the equally legendary petrina love for all things dairy and poultry, is pretty much limiting the value of what i'm saying to "there was prata. and chicken. it was orange."

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