Apparently I really wanted Neopolitan ice cream sandwich. This is what I learned at the end of my forced outing when the guy at the corner store gave me a quarter's break because he "knows me." We barely speak the same language, and I think he called me "baby" or "sweetie" or something, but I got my ice cream.
On the walk three notable things happened:
The first two involve improbable sightings. They happened RIGHT in a row. The first was, I could SWEAR it was, my East Asian Civ teacher. I could tell by his hair. It must've been him; how bizarre. The second was this kid who was in my study abroad prep class, also going to Japan. He was talking to an Asian girl in English, but she answered in Japanese. So, if I'm to be believed, these two people who I expected to not see terribly often, or at least not anytime soon, both passed me by ON THE STREET WHERE I LIVE within less than ten seconds of each other.
The third notable thing will seem less notable in comparison, but I've just never run into anyone seeing baseball cards out of the palm of his hand to the people he walks by. Actually, I don't think he was SELLING anything at all, but he was putting forth the minimum effort to.
Let me note here, that left-overs suck. They generally look, feel, and taste far worse than the firs time around AND AND AND they are a pain in the neck to make. We really need to hook up our microwave, because I'm SO OVER scraping a sickeningly malodorous shell of nasty off the bottoms, sides, and lips of pans. OK, actually last time Scott did it...
BUT STILL! He doesn't deserve that either.
So, yeah, I guess I should do the dishes. My reward shall be...playing through the bits of Silent Hill 2 that got lost when I died last night...