...after the porno theatre became a revival house...

By some miracle of the football gods, we beat Korea today. Thank the lord for Karimi and Mahdavickia. I would love to be wealthy like my cousins, who can satisfy their soccer urge and then some by having already purchased airline tickets to Germany for two years from now. The furthest soccer excursion I can fathom is going to 1001 Nights with my dad and cousin to watch the Iran matches.

An afternoon spent furniture shopping at Ikea with my parents. Shopping with autocratic Iranian parents is always a pleasure. They dutifully listened to my opinions and suggestions (it was my room we were shopping for, after all) - then proceeded to disregard all my thoughts, and go with their own, completely based on functionability, ideas. So, now I have a set of very useful and competent furniture for my room - all in different colours, none of which matches. Gotta love'em.

It's three o clock. At 5:30 I will meet the Nickster, and we shall meander towards Burwash for the reunion. I am decked out in pink. Pink is how I want to feel, so Pink is how I must dress. It's all very simple, really. My parents decided to go to Oakville for the weekend. They will leave after they drop me off at the train station. I could still get out of this if I so desire, and go to Oakville with them. But I won't. Because once upon a time I took my gin like a man. I have a reputation to live up to, ya know? It's how it is.