I was reading French Women Don't Get Fat. It's hilarious. Gave me insight on some gastronomic wisdom. But eventually I had to but down the book because well, it made me feel guilty, and I was beginning to think like pretentious francophile. So naturally, I decided to read my old french notes which have been collecting two years worth of dust, and test myself on old french phrases I've learnt. I don't know shit.

Discouraged, I gave up. Turned on the TV. Watched some trash. MTV's MY OWN was on. And it happened to be the Justin Timberlake episode. Until...The doorbell rang.

I thought it was my family cause they've been out the whole day. But no. It was the pizza delivery guy. I was stunned for a bit because I don't remember ordering pizza. Also, there I was clad in my stupid holy black tee, really ugly brown pants, hair like Niagra falls looking worse for wear. I opened the door anyways. (Now, wouldn't it have been funny if I had actually changed. For the pizza guy?!). I scared the dude for a good 10 minutes insisting I didn't order any pizza. (Who rejects pizza, K?!) Yeah, turns out my mum ordered it for me. Bless her soul, she still wants me to live.

I'm back from KL. Man, it was a blast! =)
I'm gonna miss it, the withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. Haha.
My friends are fucking amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better bunch of people to go on a trip with. Yay.
I'll load pictures from the trip soon. Maybe.