The problem with dating someone with whom you don't share a language and culture is primarily that no matter how many times you try to explain yourself you can never be sure they understand what you are talking about - also if they do something to make you angry how do you know whether they are being insensitive and generally acting like a jerk or is it a language problem or possibly they are sending you cultural signals that are completely over your head. I honestly don't know why I bother sometimes.

Overheard on the bus today:

"Silk D&G underwear is not gay - you have to protect your jewels. That's as straight as it gets."

I am still laughing my head off.

I usually read non-fiction where men in suits are running around doing sketchy things and someone ends up dead or in jail but not before havoc has been wreaked on the world by their actions.

Last night I read - more like devoured - "The Colour Purple". I, a supposedly educated, independent female with a world of opportunity at my feet, can completely relate to this book. I am totally not sure how I feel about that.

I have wanted a big, red couch ever since I became aware of the possibility of decorating my own home. It is looking like a real possibility within the next year or two but for now remains imaginary.