Timestamp

Last week was the sixth anniversary of my livejournal, and this is the six-hundred-sixty-sixth entry. I have now been at this journal for longer than I've lived in any house or consecutively in any city.

I Do My Best

For lunch, I went to Chinatown and bought two pork buns twice the size of my fist.

big = America
pork = barbecue
Chinese = inventors of fireworks.

Then I went to McDonalds (American) and got soft-serve ice cream (so American). The wind kept blowing my skirt up, even though it was long and heavy (it's been cold here, and rainy), and skirt blowing = Marilyn Monroe = America. To top things off, I borrowed a copy of The Straight Story, an American film by an American director¹ about an American² travelling across America³.

Someone set off fireworks to the northwest of me⁴; I could see the tops of them if I leaned out my window. It was very exciting.

1. Lynch
2. A farmer.
3. On a lawn mower.
4. Therefore not the American Embassy; they all took the day off, with nary a clue on their website as to where the parties would be. American Embassy, you disappoint me yet again.