Apparently, the Chinese word for automobile is Qui-che. And here I thought that was some kind of gross pie. I awoke this morning to a fridge full of chicken balls, crab rangoon and fried rice. My house guests, in town for a bachelor party which I also attended, spared no expense upon their return to the apartment last night. I think I snuck home around 10pm or so. The operative word being think. It was a rough one.
My fortune cookie read “To work hard is to be able to play hard without guilt”. And yet I can’t help feeling guilty that while I meant to behave this weekend, I’ve actually ended up sitting here wondering how I got home from Dick’s Last Resort.
