I'm in New York, in Celine's apartment, attempting to write this paper.
So far it's taken me 2.5 hours, and I'm on the top of page 3 out of at least 5, and I have pretty much no arguement. These stories have no substance, and I such at stretching these things out.
I bought my first legal bottle of alcohol in the U.S., a bottle of Carmel Chardonnay, to celebrate Celine's show. Right now I'm drinking some in the vain hope that it will help me write this stupid paper. And it's tasty.