Damn You, Amazon dot Com
As I clicked on the “Place Your Order” button, having once again spent more money than I make in a week on Amazon, I realized I didn’t care. Because I am getting books. Deliciously bad books, the reviews say. If I end up destitute, selling potatoes roasted in a rusty barrel, it will not matter, because I will be the most obnoxiously well-read roasted potato(e) vendor in Beijing, and all anyone wants out of life anyway is a little originality.
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