Really good night.
Drunk as hell.
People shouldn't be allowed to blog when they're drunk.
Whole bottle of whiskey gone. Lemon Cass, almost. It's plastic. I can't break it.
I ate a lot of meat.
Mr. Kwan wasn't at school today. His name is Mr. Kwan, by the way. He doesn't say the first consonant when he says "mister" first. I don't know why. Took me a month to work it out. When he said Mr. Im. Mr. Im is Mr. Kim. Now's as good a time as any to say it. Anyway, I'm worried because I care too much about him. Which is a problem on like a million levels. And Koreans almost never miss work, as far as I can tell. So it must be something bad?
I sat at the men's table anyway and they talked about me in Korean, which I understand too much of now for them to be doing that.
Yes. I can eat lunch without Mr. Kwan. And I can sit at the ajosshi table while I do it.
The music teacher smiled at me at least. And the really handsome gym teacher felt it was his duty to escort me to the cafeteria and open the rice cooker for me because Mr. Kwan wasn't there.
I'm not helpless. I'm just a girl.
No one will get 80% of this except Mike.
Well. I should go to bed. And not think about anything at all. Especially Mr. Kwan.