72 degrees, sunny, and no class on Mondays, bitches. Too bad that the majority of the day must be spent on all the homework I neglected over the past three days, and not on having a picnic in the park.
Fake pearls from sidewalk vendor, grey Forever 21 ombre tank (I saw Susie Bubble's ombre tights and thought "wait a minute, Forever 21 can do that for me! On a tank top! And I won't have to scrub my sink! ... but it's not quite as dramatic a gradient as I'd hoped), Hudson jeans, trusty gold Steve Madden flats that I should've bought in bulk last summer.
Currently, there are two fillets of red snapper lounging in lime juice in our fridge. We are conducting the Great Ceviche Experiment of 2008 to answer the question of whether or we should really pay a restaurant to serve us something we can make at home without ever turning on the oven. Yes, ceviche can occasionally look like cat food. No, we have never made ceviche at home before. Yes, there is the slight possibility that Noah and myself will be suffering from some regrets after eating marinated uncooked fish.