yesterday, i discovered my fear of guns.

After a few hours of watching Brian pack to once again leave New York and head back to Hong Kong, Mike and I got a bit tired and invaded his brother's room for a nap. A good while into our attempt to sleep on the twin-sized bed (fortunately, we are both "little people" as he said), Michael grunted in discomfort and went to adjust something around his waist area, just beneath his shirt. I figured he was fixing his belt until I heard something hit against metal. The noise was definitely too loud and solid to be from a belt buckle. I opened my eyes and what did I see lying right next to me? HIS GUN. This is no euphemism. I do mean his bullet-filled people-shooting gun sitting in his holster sitting right next to my thigh. After a slight freakout on my end, he took it off, took out the bullets, and placed it on a table before returning to sleep.

I decided to get up and try on more of Brian's overly large clothes instead.

I also made a note to myself to always make sure from now on that I check to see if the person I'm sharing a bed/cot/mattress/whatever with isn't carrying a loaded weapon.


Don't be fooled by the cute hat (which isn't even his) or the boyish smile. The NYPD gives guns out to 28-year-old ManBoys like this.

Somewhat unrelated: Brian owns the world's largest beater, as displayed by Michael.



Brian's essentials that he's bringing back to Hong Kong. Haha.

& I enjoy trying on every single article of Brian's closet as he packs.

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