There he goes, off to write his hit song, "Alone in My Principles!"

I feel in a bit of a funk, as nothing this week has really set the days apart. Uneventful is wonderful, I'm not trying to tempt fate. But I couldn't tell you the difference between Tuesday and Thursday. Unless one of those was the day we had that midget porn.

I do have movies at home, that would even spice it up a bit more than the TV show marathon. We have Kamikaze Girls(at my sister's recommendation), Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (which is going to be mediocre at best with two good lines, you know it), another disc of The L Word and...oh yes, Nightwatch! That I actually am looking forward to a bit. We ran it at the Angelika, and though I never watched it, it certainly had some cool looking moments.

But luckily, here I am at work printing thousands of pictures of Spain for Mr. Ass Clown Franklin. How embarrassing; no one told him that Italy was so the place to go this year. (As evidenced by the thousands of pictures everyone else brought in). Except for that one family that always goes to DisneyWorld. That actually usually makes me feel better. Thank God I was in Dallas and not DisneyWorld. Right. Who the fuck am I kidding--I'd take DisneyWorld any day of the week over Dallas, it's all a lie.

The students always go to London, the rich families always hit Italy, the ones with kids hit Disneyland. African safaris get more screen time than you'd think. I never could decide if the uber-touristy aspect appalled me or not. Like I'd go to Africa without the aide of guides.

I'm still waiting for pictures from the Czech Republic (read me arrogantly assuming I'd fucking recognize pictures from the Czech Republic) or shit, how about South America? China? No one goes to Asia. I mean damn! Japan has Tokyo Disney Sea, which is one of the most delightfully fucked up things I've ever seen!

Hmm. I guess most people don't shoot for 'fucked up' in their vacation plans. Knobs.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have my oh-so-obvious honeymoon to Ireland to plan. Not that I have any idea what I'd like to see...I mean, aside from Kilmainhem (I so fucked that) Gaol and the GPO where the Easter Uprising started, there's not too much on the list. Just...you know...Ireland. Pretty. Beer. Enjoy. And I'm quite happy to leave it at that--I just don't want to get home and go, "D'oh!" Shoulda done fill in the blank.

And SQUEE! Derek is taking me to Tokyo One tonight for my birthday, which is very exciting. Have not been in ages, and they have every single kind of Japanese food you could ever want. YUM. Except sushi--gross, who cares. I know he wanted to take me on Tuesday (my actual birthday), but he is learning that patience is not my strong suit. I apologize, but I happen to have a hankering for going out tonight, it so seldom happens...So I must throw together a most foxy ensemble this evening, especially as I have been a less-than-doting fiancee all week, mostly slothing on the sofa draining vodka and West Wing. Hot, I know.

And on a totally unrelated side-note, I just discovered that I cannot always lie well off the cuff. The personnel manager walked in and started making fun of the ex-owner's (previously written of as 'Crazy Train') cackle (as he was visiting us, apparently). I yelled after him as he left, "Yeah, I know! I heard it earlier!" Enter Crazy Train. "Heard what?" I mean jesus, we even have construction going on outside but do I reference this? No, I make some lame ass reference to FuckWit Knob that made no sense whatsoever. If he weren't crazy, that would have been such a bust. I'm a disgrace to lyin' bitches everywhere.

Still can't look at that man the same way ever since Mark and I stumbled across his sex journal while cleaning out his old office. Shudder.