Sitting in the coffee shop, pretending to work. Really, I'm just thinking about going back to the UK; that's pretty much all I think about lately. Well, that and food, 'cause I'm Fatty.
I talked to Local Mike (aka pre-London Boy) about how he's an immature and inexperienced wimpy asshat, and once I got over my anger we actually had a decent conversation. It was really nice. He also asked if I might want to hang out some time; I'm definitely not going to start dating him again, but considering I no longer have any friends in Charlotte, it might be nice to have someone talk to.
I really wish the man with the small annoying child had picked a table other than the one a foot away from mine. I also wish he hadn't bought his already hyper kid an enormous sugary drink, causing the irritation factor to skyrocket.
Now I gotta get on this essay-writing shit. Dear Lily, these are the last essays you'll write for Christ only knows how long, suck it up and work. Forcefully, Lily.
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