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Found a piece of plastic half the size of my palm in my proscuitto pizza at dinner. Fucking plastic.

Caps off a wonderful night of dining complete with an under-dressed bruschetta of un-ripened tomatoes and spongy bread, oysters kilpatrick that almost completely lacked the kilpatrick, and a table that lacked any lighting save for a tiny candle in the corner.

Like I told the manager, the only reason I didn’t cause a scene over the food (particularly the pizza) was because this cold has stripped me of most of my voice. But apparently I death-stared both him and the poor waiter enough to give my immediate family the impression I was going to stab someone.

It’s a shame to get this kind of thing from there, because I used to love the restaurant, but you don’t go back after getting plastic in your food, so fuck ‘em, they’ve lost a customer.

The studying I’ve done in the last two-and-a-half days has shown me that I can learn a lot in a hurry if I can be bothered; I’ve more or less memorised general human and plant anatomy and physiology, at least according to my course notes.

And then I remind myself that barely 1% of this is gonna be in my test on Friday, and my usual pessimistic approach to tests is forcing me to learn everything that could possibly be in it.

This is what I get for considering sub-95% to be a personal failure.

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