Status check on my life now.

I'm now 35 pages from finishing Paulo Coelho's novel Eleven Minutes (cos 11 minutes is supposedly how long it takes to have sex), and 77 minutes into watching Le Cercle Rouge (which I've halted to go sleep). Neither will be completed tonight but the book is definitely leading the race.

I'm drinking more coffee in a bid to stay awake but it has become less effective on me.

I miss clubbing. Or rather, I miss dancing.

I've friends who:
only hear "wa wa wa" when I talk too fast;
find the MacDonald's ad amusing, especially the part when a figure steps next to the Golden Arches and taps on it;
can find me a discount on rabbit fur coats if I ever need one; and
like me, still can't understand Americans, their president or their election results.

It's good to be me.