Please accept my warmest and frothiest New Year's toast from a juggled snifter of V.S.P. Cognac given a good to-and-fro, dancing with a tall glass of bubbley pronounced like Christopher Walken's "champagnye."
I seem to have a recollection that my parents were visiting me over here in this god-forsaken country, but they flew back sometime today.
So that's good that they came over, right? But you know it sort of makes me feel guilty, like i should have just come back to visit them instead, but whatever, you know, parents, right? uff.
So I think I can echo what Brad said about grad school: i won't know until another 3 months at least, until then I feel like these professors are just shredding up my applications and smoking them like cheap, homemade cigars and getting kicks with my fate in these wooden conference rooms with wooden faces. Cheers to that.
And so forth.
Oh i forget about the port
where is the port?