I'm still pretty high from Chinese New Year. The prolonged break from the frustrations of ladypose moil, combined with the fact that I'm reading The Travels of Marco Polo, a mostly-true catalog of Marky Marc's impressions of unfamiliar provinces, has my soul incandescing daily with delight at the myriad subtle ways in which the Chinese mode of
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they make it into chips, sometimes.
WHEN THEY MAKE CHIPS OUT OF FRUIT YOU KNOW IT IS GOOD TIMES
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I had a dream last night that we hung out and really got along. I swear it was so real, it might have been the reason I slept 12 hours today.
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In other words, please include more self-portraits amongst the travelogue!
Thank you for continuing to brighten my day with your eminently witty musings. Sometimes, they really help chase a turdarrific mood away!
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