So.  I'm back!  They let me back into the country and everything.  Under the huge shiny silver letters spelling "Welcome to the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA."  Yay for me and my blue passport.

I have so many stories to tell and so many pictures!  This will be good because it will give me something to blog about practically everyday.  And seeing as I have a big project proposal to turn in by the end of January, that means I'll be blogging a lot!

Right.  Christmas was slightly uneventful.  My family went down to Jersey (pronounced: Joisey) to partake in the glory and splendor of my youngest cousin's new fancy house in suburbia.  Christmas dinner this year was sushi at a nearby Japanese/Korean restaurant which was AMAZING because of my battle with bronchitis and some hardcore nasal congestion, I couldn't smell or taste my food.  As you would gather, this was a huge blow to my food-obsessed self but wasabi saved the day (a little).  I could taste my sushi rice, which was good because I love rice vinegar.

Then it was THE DAY!  The most exciting day I've had in a while.  The day to pack up my suitcase and strap my passport to my forehead and head on down to the airport.  I had some errands to do such as get my haircut (finally) so that was done the morning before my red-eye flight.  I went to the mall to "Master Cuts" so that I wouldn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a friggin' haircut.  I took off 4 inches!  And yet my hair is still really really long.  This is good.  I think I'll just keep it long for a while.  Until I can't stand it anymore and I go for the Mr. Clean look.

The hairdresser was hilarious.  The whole time she was smiling to herself because she said my hair was "SO LONG!" and "SO HEALTHY!"  I guess she was impressed or something.  Then we have this conversation:

HAIRDRESSER
You in school?  What high school do you go to?

ME
(HA!)  Do you think I'm really young?  How old do you think I am?

HAIRDRESSER
You look very young.

ME
I'm 25.

HAIRDRESSER
Oh.  So I guess that means you past college.

ME
Yes.

HAIRDRESSER
You have boyfriend?

ME
Yes.

HAIRDRESSER
Does he love your hair?

ME
Uh…yeah.  I think he likes it.

HAIRDRESSER
Yeah.  The boys.  They like the long hair.

ME
I guess so…some boys like short hair.

HAIRDRESSER
Yeah, but your hair, it is nice.  Your boyfriend.  He like your hair.

The conversation almost made me wish I spoke fluent Polish and wore more makeup.  I mean high school?  Really?  Me?  I didn't think I looked that young.  She was very fast and funny and she gave me a good haircut so that was a good start to things.  After the haircut I felt like my hair was VERY SHORT, but really, it wasn't that short at all.  My head felt so light!  Hair is pretty heavy, I guess.

Fast forward 3pm to driving down to Flushing to stop at the Chinatown there with my parents so that they could do some shopping.  I waited around outside since the store was extremely crowded had very narrow aisles and I wasn't shopping for anything.  Lo an behold I witness a psychotic elderly white woman with a bulbous nose waddle up to two middle aged Chinese women who were conversing in Mandarin and start screaming in their faces.  I mean, I wasn't even sure if she was speaking English it was so garbled and strained.  Screaming!  Literally!  At the top of her lungs!  It was crazy.  It got so bad that one of the women reached out and pushed her away so that she would take the hint.  After a few more minutes she started to wander off down the street, but not without stopping and turning around and screaming some more nonsense.  Man.  It must be fun to be crazy.

I wasn't hungry but my parents insisted that I get some food to eat at the airport.  I got a huge Chinese food container full of wonton soup and flat rice noodles.  Mmmm.  Delicious.  My mom gave me a waterbottle so that I could use it to wash down my antibiotics.  Of course, I got to the airport 3 hours before my flight, which sometimes doesn't even seem like enough time.  I waited in line forever to get checked in.  Got waived through an extra security checkpoint and deliberated whether or not to sit and eat my noodles before trudging to my terminal and then saw with my own eyes the horror that was the security line (8 rows deep) and decided that it would be in my best interest to get my ass in that line.  One of the guards saw the waterbottle sticking out of my bag and not so nicely told me to GET RID OF IT because it's NOT ALLOWED.  I took off my shoes and my jacket, put my carry-on bag and my bag filled with wonton goodness through the X-ray screener and then put everything back on.  Half an hour later I was at my terminal slurping my delicious wonton soup and noodles that were still warm.  So much for security.

So that brings us right up to getting on the plane!  Exciting stuff, no??  Longest blog post ever, probably.  Stay tuned for more terribly exciting (boring) posts about my adventure to the UK.  Here's a pretty picture to tide you over:

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