And if you have five seconds to spare, I'll tell you the story of my life

Had my first experience with London theater tonight. Not too bad, I guess. I saw The Shawshank Redemption, which would not have been my first choice but it was for my London Theatre class. My only problem was that we were supposed to watch as critics, and take notes and whatnot. It turns out, I really don't enjoy plays when I'm criticizing them. If I'm just going to watch, I can usually just disregard any mistakes, unless they're really blatant, or the show is just really bad. Tonight, though, all I could focus on were the things I didn't like. And the show really wasn't bad at all, but apparently Critic Lily is Ms. Negative, and only wants to see the bad in things. Oh dear. I really hope this class isn't going to ruin my ability to enjoy shows. That would be tragic.

Last night I rode the London Eye, and like a genius forgot my camera. Taking pictures is basically the only reason people even go on that thing. Sometimes I want to punch myself. Afterward, though, we did a (school organized) pub crawl on the South Bank. I love when my educational institution provides me with the opportunity to feul my delicious vodka-y habit. When was the last time Hampshire ever organized a tour of Amherst's finest drinking establishments? Never, that's when.

I totally just burnt my arm on the oven, and I'm not happy. My arm is even less happy. I can tell, because it's red and kinda shiny, which for an arm means sadness.

Now my sad arm and I are going to eat a vegetarian "ckicken" sammich, because it's the reason my arm is in the state it is, and thus we must seek revenge.