Angelina's chest sure is comfy, whereas mine is just flattish
My brain remains cluttered with chemical equations and laws, and I'm beginning to look like the frazzled professor we've all had at one time or another in university: unbrushed hair, no shower for three-plus days, and no change of clothing. Here I wait for my chemistry exam that seems to have disappeared into the ether (little chemistry joke there), somewhere between here and Toronto, hoping the time comes sooner rather than later to write the damn thing so I can finally begin to forget all those useless things I've been jamming into my poor little brain over the last five weeks, and refill it with things that actually make sense, like what flavour ice cream is best for a dinner alone, or how does one get away with only brushing one's teeth once a week but look like one brushes three times a day. Those things. Spending the weekend at home alone with Dee, who's had a stomach bug that just likes it a bit too much inside his intestines to leave (Mr. Handsome and Em...