On Monday, the Lit Gang had our post-exams celebration outing at this very pretty, quaint and tiny cafe tucked away in a corner of Taka called the Royal Copenhagen Tea Lounge. In comparison to the V Tea Room at the Esplanade, the Tea Lounge was not as "Victorian" in its decor, but it had lovely china cutlery handmade by the Royal Copenhagen group and a nice view of the busy street below. The food was also delicious and reasonably priced (for those who don't mind eating small servings). I absolutely adored their raspberry almond tea cake. And hence the sugar and liquor high.

MW complained that I was spouting weird things all day long. Actually I had started saying weird things even before we got to dessert, so maybe I can't blame my insanity on the cake at all. And I had my taste in guys thouroughly disparaged. I said that Wally was cute and everyone was (perhaps appropriately) horrified. But hey, at least I wasn't the one who noticed that he tends to put his hands in his pockets and shift his pants around when he's thinking... O__o

And then I said, ok, I won't say that Wally is cute, but the Tragedy tutor is cute. And MW immediately responded by pushing her chin out and saying that the Tragedy tutor has a "horse face"... =___=; So mean! I suppose I have a drastically different definition of "cute" from everyone else's. I'm definitely not using the word "cute" in the American sense to mean "handsome". I think the way I use it is closer to the Japanese concept of kawaii cute, which is usually characterized by smallness, vulnerability, innocence, a childlike quality and abstraction in terms of design (think Hello Kitty without the mouth). But Wally... kawaii... hmmmmmm...

By the time it was late afternoon, I was really on a high. Diana was telling me about the "sexy" John Donne devotional poem "Batter my Heart" that ends with "Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me" and because I had dreamt of Wally cooking spaghetti one night after the Tragedy exam, I composed this one line of poetry dedicated to Wally:

"RAVISH ME, WITH SPAGHETTI!!!"

This is the first and last line of poetry I shall ever write. And may John Donne rest easy in his grave.