FRIED EXTRA CRISPY

I'm sitting here in my office with Anthonie (from the Netherlands, and he's REALLY REALLY TALL) and thinking..when was the last time I had fried chicken extra crispy? Then I remembered that it's actually my tired mind making a connection (which is REALLY BAD) to the state that it's in (extra crispy) to some tired piece of chicken sitting on a plate somewhere (which is really not that bad), but I digress (I hate this phrase and can't understand why people endear it upon themselves to use it all the time, it's saying "like" before each point you want to make, for e.g "I feel, like I dunno, like really fat in this like, you know what I mean, like?")

I am tired. Not enough sleep. Mortality has caught up with me in a sense that I can't stay up anymore. I can't process 20 journals a day like I used to when I was young (that was 2 long years ago, *sigh).

It's getting really spooky by the minute. The office stays quiet after 5, and all the stuffed animals outside my office seem alive somehow, I got to thinking that maybe that Kookaburra birdie just blinked at me for no reason, and what's really scary is I'm thinking to myself that it's normal (spooky huh?) Or maybe the taxidermist is just really talented that you don't notice the difference between dead and live bird (brrrrrrr!!!)

Anyways I better get back home before I freak out any longer. SCARY. If in Malaysia you'll have all this horror stories "Oh this room used to be a morgue, etc..or this place was a hospital once bla bla bla" it's ingrained in you to suspect any moving shadow in the hallways, any form of sound (poor cricket I thought u were a psycopath wielding an axe). Maybe here there are no hantus..hopefully not...ok back home and don't look back, WHAT'S THAT?! kidding kidding..