Enough F1 talk. I tend to blabber endlessly about it until my friends call me to shut up. I really should, actually. The only other girl my age I can talk about F1 to is Stella, but half the time she speaks of how "Kimi is so hot" and "how Lewis is such an asshole". It's still good talk though. Better than nothing. My dad used to watch with me, but he doesn't anymore. I assume it's due to the fact that I'm a much bigger fanatic that he is, hence he gets annoyed when I over-react: lose my cool. The few things that keep us together is that we both dislike Lewis' driving and we both support Takuma Sato and the rest of the Japanese co.
I feel sleepy. Cough medicine....wearing in....taking its toll...noooo.
Yeah, I'm done. This stuff is overly sweet. I'm sure most dieticians would not approve of it, especially those in the diabetics department. To add to that, it's a sickly pink.
Though if the syrup makes me better, I won't complain.
This is the part of my post where I explain to you I have nothing to write about. Let me think. Hold on...
*closes eyes. Concentrates real hard*
Bingo! I have it. I had pizza and pasta for lunch at Fratini's. I had pizza at Pizza Hut on Thursday night. I like pizza. In fact, when we did reflections in Science class, I mirrored the word 'pizza'. I can't see how one can resist the delights of cheese, tomato sauce and other toppings on a flat dough base. Especially when it's hot and the cheese is stringy and chewy. Ah... Please give me a moment to indulge in my imagination.
I like Indian food too. Heh. Conveniently born on Deepavali, I was.
My dad used to tell me I was adopted from the circus and I was a terrifically ugly baby. No, wait, correction. He still does. Talk about being persistent with your theories.
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