Dodedoo

I couldn’t really think of a title for this entry. So I’ll summarize what happened in the morning. Nothing, nothing, pokemon, nothing, nothing, blah. We went to Mister Donut again (oh god), and then afterwards we went to the mall to look around and get some real lunch. I had a hankering for McDonalds. I donno what these people are thinking, but their idea of seasoning is “lets put more salt on it.” Their burgers have salt, their fries have extra salt, and Im sure their receipts are made of salt. And you know what? Their employees are salty. Not the very bright bunch and not the very happy. Like a normal McDonalds employee! Anyway, while we were sitting and eating (hardly), an old woman sat across from us (sorta) eating her chicken stuffs. After she was done, she got my attention and showed her receipt and then pointed to mine. Assuming that she wanted it, I handed it over. Cause remember, they have a lottery with the receipts, so what was I going to do with it? We handed our receipts over gladly and then went along our marry way.

After we did our “shopping,” we headed back home. Pretty much as soon as we got home, dad got home and we planned what we wanted to do. We all decided that we had unfinished business with the Shilin Night Market. We went there through the back this time, and some of our little group got separated a few times cause the market was CARZY busy. No biggie. We ate at the same place we did last time and I didn’t have a very good appetite…I donno. It was just kind of a “this is what we did” night. Not too much to go into.

Although when we were coming home, I was minding my own business when a middle aged man in a suit standing across from me on the train started talking to me. He started asking me where I was from and such. The conversation when a little like this:

Man: Where are you from?
Me: USA
Man: WOW! Are you from east coast or west coast?
Me: West coast.
Man: You like Yankees?
Me: No.
Man: WHAAAATT??

And then he started falling around everywhere, losing his balance and whatnot. Falling like, forward and crashing into me. Then I figured it out, the man was smashed drunk. He kept muttering about something I didn’t understand and kept asking me if I liked the Yankees. Eventually his brother stood up out of his chair and stood next to him to hold him up when he would fall over. The guy just couldn’t understand why I didn’t like the Yankees. Dad eventually had to explain why no one in America really likes them. So, as soon as I could, I ran off the train and laughed. Good times.