I am a bad, bad, uninformative Expatella.
Some excuses for not writing? Two going-away parties, a birthday, a lost cellphone being held for ransom by a pissy gypsy-cab driver, and Gerard Butler won't stop harassing me with his love*.
And I MOVED! Closer to downtown, a bigger bedroom, regular internet access, nine fewer teapots, and a third flatmate added to the mix.
All of this will be explained.
*I may have just watched 300 for the fifteenth time. (Sixteenth time for that scene where he's naked.)
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