Because I am lazy and hate having to repeat myself

Cheng! To the UK! Rock!

I will make an effort to haul my ass to London. DATES, give me DATES. Like I can be bothered to check the BMC website... I doubt you'd care for Bangor - it's too great outdoorsey for you, so I'll go to London for at least a bit. The nice thing about Bangor is that I don't feel half as frumpy as I do in London. Bring your coolest clothes for London, or go shopping while you're there. One is never cool enough for London. They don't wear jeans there, that's my memory. (They do here!)

I'm cool. I was going to dash off a hasty note in reply to your "is there anything but men in Wales?" jab, saying that no, in fact, there isn't, and I've been engaged in a 3 week orgy being sexually pleasured by nothing but hot steamy Luke Wilson look alikes wearing penguin socks. For heaven's sake. What do you take me for?

Then I got distracted by boycapades. Confusing confusing boycapades. You're not allowed to drunkenly tell me that we are just going to be friends (but just for a week? or something?) and then fondle my thighs the next day. It confuses me. However the fondling thigh incident leads me to suspect that we will in fact be friends, and he wasn't just saying that as some conciliatory measure.

Anyway I am fine and remarkably happy, cheerful, and pleasant. Even a spotted sow looks black in the middle of the night. Even when he was telling me these things, I behaved quite nobly and didn't slap him or do anything uncouth (other than weep). I am proud of myself. He bought me an ice cream cone and his best friend gave me cookies and tea. He is missing out on the GLORY THAT IS ME! Ha, I'm way too full of myself to ever be down about being broken up with. If that's really what happened (??) Confusing little man. I still like him heaps.

Life is grand and it is beautiful. I'm almost ridiculously happy here, almost all of the time. My classes rock my world (haven't I said so?) and I have the best vocabulary in all of them, and I read a LOT, like a HUGE AMOUNT, and do not spend all of my time drinking contrary to popular belief. On Thursday I attended a lecture on antarctica and the shelters people have left behind when they've finished flirting with death exploring. It involved many penguins. My friend Rob asked if penguins smelled. Horribly, it would seem.

Meanwhile I am cooking the HOBO DINNER tonight. HURRAH! CHICKEN CARROTS ONIONS MUSHROOMS WINE COOKED IN FOIL and the secret ingredient is... looooove!

Pray that I don't explode my face while attempting to light the gas stove.

I need to see bowling for columbine. One of these days...

Love,

Margaret

2003-02-09, secret ingredient

before / after

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