I just heard random thumping from the apartment I'm moving in to, with comments about a bronken door casing. I just mailed the lease this morning, so I was a bit concerned and asked them what was up. The apratment's fine, but the appolgized for the mess ("We're taking everthing to the dumpster, don't worry." "Worry? You haven't seen my place, dude.") and offered to leave anything I want. The couch I like is, unfortunately, structurally damaged, but they said they'd leave me all the bookcases (small ones) and the stereo. And there are random dressers for all the new clothes I'll buy once I throw my old ones out in the move. Um, not that I'll need more clothes.
The Doc and I had the following email exchange yesterday: The Doc: I just noticed, I can't find your England Report on your blog, you say you will tell people what happened but I can't find the actual info
Teru: Hmm, I should put that up, shouldn't I
The Doc: Only if you want to go into details about your booty call ;-)
Teru: Hmmm, I'm still uncertain about how much information I want to share on the web. It might get me more readers though :)
The Doc: Don't mind what you tell people, let them know how badly I was at sex, I don't care... tell them how you got ill and had to be cared for. tell them about the time I ran out of money and had to ask for NTL to put my money back into my account. you have my consent.
Anything you want. But most importantly of all you MUST tell people how much I love you, and how much I smiled and how much we kissed in public.
Oh and don't forget the meet and the reading bit. Since he said I could tell all, so
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