Yesterday at lunch, the office workers sitting with me were discussing how much they hate smoking. The only man pointed to the smoking room and said “Lung Cancer Room!” in English. The break room is called the “refresh room” and there is one table. Next to it is a small room for the smokers, with vents and the machines to suck the smoke out. So every time someone goes in or out, an awful smell wafts through the table. Last week I went in there real quick to give my supervisor a banana-walnut muffin I made. It was beyond disgusting (the room, not the muffin). I came out and felt like I had tar on my tongue and was still feeling the effects a half hour later. Grosssssss.
That is my supervisor in the smoking room. He is not gross though. He loves Dragonall Ball Z and 24.
The locker room.
Outside our apartment
Your brains could not handle the insane recycling sorting we do.
My clean apartment, a glimpse: the living room.
Yesterday Chris and I busted out the new grill. Flames!
Thanks to Chris for all the photos- sans my room.
In other news, Japanese keyboards are really messing my hands up when it comes to html!
