Every time when I go out, I stuff all my most relevant things into a small purse. These include phone, key, some arbitrarily-sized wad of cash and my alien registration card (yes, that is a thing) to identify me, just in case I get arrested (I mean, you never know).
What I forget every single time, is the card that will open the gates to Komaba II campus. You know, the place I live at.
So every time, I have to climb the wall like some slightly drunk skirt-clad conversed messy-haired ninja. There are no security cameras (that I know of), and I usually dress in dark colours anyway, so I (being as I am usually less than entirely sober at these instances) completely appretiate the illusion of stealthy intrusion.
Problem is, these climbing excercises make me feel so stupidly awsome because I simultaneously a) don't break my neck (or haven't. Yet.), b) don't completely ruin whatever dress I'm wearing at the time (only that one hole once) and c) save my neighboorhood from indecent exposure (I have a very feminine style of climbing brick walls), that I just have to tell someone about how cool I am!
So here goes. Blog: When it comes to getting my drunk ass to bed, I am Assasin's Creed awsome. Deal with it!
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