Hey, hey the gang's all here.

My luxurious 5 bed room that I had to myself is now crammed with my studio mates and their luggage. This is merely temporary, owing to the hotel overbooking promised rooms. Needless to say, there is already tension and class hasn't started yet.

Thanks to SkypeOut, I and everyone one else will be able to call any phone in the U.S. for about $0.024 a minute from the lab computer or our laptops. This is a welcome development because most of my family doesn't have broadband nor is familiar enough with their computers to download and install Skype. It may mean some odd hours in studio, but, oh wait, that's normal.

Yesterday in Tesco, I heard some American girls yelling at each other across the store in housewares and decided to check it out. They were buying hangers and pillows, so I asked, "What program are you with?" The girl glanced at me over her shoulder as she walked away and said, "NYU." That was it. No, "Hey, you're American? What program are you with?" Not even polite conversation. She couldn't have dismissed me quicker.

I have heard that this is not uncommon for the NYU kids. They act as though they're still in L.A. or Houston or where ever, yelling across packed trams as if the intermediate people don't exist or don't understand English. (I would like to think New Yorkers wouldn't act like that.)

Last night, M. and I did B 52 shots at a restaurant. These had a twist: First the Grand Marnier was replaced with Absinth. Second, they were on fire. We sucked them down with straws. I am having too much fun here.