Tomorrow, we leave at the break of dawn (probably before it, actually) and head back to Frankfurt and then back to SFO. I am not terribly excited about another 14 hours of travel, but them's the breaks. I've got my big book about the Gulag, because I'm not entertained by literature unless I'm reading about pain and suffering. Who knew the Bolsheviks were such assholes? I've got my bizarre selection of CD's, although I've exhausted those and may have to move on to Alex's. And I've got mom's cache of illegal prescription drugs, which she'd better be willing to share. We're flying something called "Coach Plus" which already has my eyes rolling. Coach Plus, my ass. Damn you, steerage!
I'm quite ready to get home and start work, as well as gear up for the Bonnie (1/26) and Beth (1/28) birthday extravaganza. I think Bon's turning 29 again. Wahoo!
Under the category of "No Fucking Shit", Italy is amazing. Jenny is doing beautifully, as she was the reason for our visit, and it was great to spend so much time with her and her rag tag gang of jet setters. I spent my last Euro today on some ridiculously Eurotrash sunglasses, and plan to stroll around San Francisco wearing them and my big hat, Euro-kissing hobos and screaming "Ciao!" at everyone. I'll be back tomorrow at 4:30, which means home by 7 and at the bar by 8. Sa-weet. Hope you didn't have too much fun without me. I'll update the blog this week with a series of embarrassing and appalling photos, so check back.
Spots is once again, en route...