So after a good nine months, my mum finally discovered I had a cartilage piercing. Surprisingly she didn't scream at me about getting another hole but chose to rant about the cost of getting the piercing after she found out I got it done in England - in pounds.
My sister's a tougher tuition teacher than any I've ever had. She's constantly on my back about a French letter I'm supposed to write to my imaginary penpal giving my age, birthday, favorite subjects, and what I have in my bag. Those kind of details could put you at risk of identity theft. Throw in a spot of Seet family temper and my awful procrastinating and I think she'll be ready to quit in a couple of days. Then again, she knows where I live.
I sobbed through dinner which was English mustard and a side of hotdog. I went a little overboard with the mustard because it tasted really good at Tishen's house a month ago at about midnight, and through my tears, I could just about make out the celebrations beginning at Trafalgar Square after London won the 2012 bid.
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