Marc "that's right, I like Destiny's Child"
Props to the shower and the hotel. One was warm and steady, the other has complimentary bathrobes stashed away in a closet. I'll let you guess which is which.
I feel so much cleaner now. After crawling around dusty-ass, bug infested Post Office counters, its just nice to be able to rinse one's self clean and whisk the night away in a bathrobe. At least it keeps me from being naked. So, thank you Mr. HotelChain. I appreciate your efforts to make me feel at home. In fact, this is better than home. If it weren't for the fact that you set up shop in Texas (and Houston of all places- why couldn't you have chosen Austin?), I'd stay here longer. But, alas, the crotchety, stinky room that holds the bath at the apartment awaits, and I have no choice but to answer its call. I hope there's toilet paper when I get back on Thursday. I just stole four rolls.
On the MP3 Player: "Talking Shit About A Pretty. . ." no, hold on, wait for it. . .
On the MP3 Player: "Jumpin Jumpin" by Destiny's Child. I'm a man. Why you looking at me like I'm a woman. I'm a man I tell's ya.
Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that CNN will be rebroadcasting it's mini-documentary, "The Reagan Presidency". Quite possibly the most captivating piece of small screen magic I've seen since Super Bowl XX. Bears- 46, Patriots- 10. I love how, thirteen years after the fact, Reagan is made into almost a divine-type figure. I was too young to actually remember most of his years in office (I was only 9 when he left), but I'm fairly certain that he wasn't as trouble-free as the show made him out to be. "Quite possibly the greatest orator of the twentieth century." What about Malcolm X? Anyone? Anyone? I'm not ripping on the guy. Trust me, anyone who can move from mediocre actor to ruler of the free world deserves some kind of credit. Don't you think?
On the MP3 Player: "Mrs. Jackson" by Outkast.
I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow, which includes (but is not limited too) at least four seperate Post Office visits, one bout of breakfast, some kind of a breakfast, possibly a small dinner, and BLARGING at night. Phew! How am I going to fit it all in? Cheers to you, and good eve.
Props to the shower and the hotel. One was warm and steady, the other has complimentary bathrobes stashed away in a closet. I'll let you guess which is which.
I feel so much cleaner now. After crawling around dusty-ass, bug infested Post Office counters, its just nice to be able to rinse one's self clean and whisk the night away in a bathrobe. At least it keeps me from being naked. So, thank you Mr. HotelChain. I appreciate your efforts to make me feel at home. In fact, this is better than home. If it weren't for the fact that you set up shop in Texas (and Houston of all places- why couldn't you have chosen Austin?), I'd stay here longer. But, alas, the crotchety, stinky room that holds the bath at the apartment awaits, and I have no choice but to answer its call. I hope there's toilet paper when I get back on Thursday. I just stole four rolls.
On the MP3 Player: "Talking Shit About A Pretty. . ." no, hold on, wait for it. . .
On the MP3 Player: "Jumpin Jumpin" by Destiny's Child. I'm a man. Why you looking at me like I'm a woman. I'm a man I tell's ya.
Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that CNN will be rebroadcasting it's mini-documentary, "The Reagan Presidency". Quite possibly the most captivating piece of small screen magic I've seen since Super Bowl XX. Bears- 46, Patriots- 10. I love how, thirteen years after the fact, Reagan is made into almost a divine-type figure. I was too young to actually remember most of his years in office (I was only 9 when he left), but I'm fairly certain that he wasn't as trouble-free as the show made him out to be. "Quite possibly the greatest orator of the twentieth century." What about Malcolm X? Anyone? Anyone? I'm not ripping on the guy. Trust me, anyone who can move from mediocre actor to ruler of the free world deserves some kind of credit. Don't you think?
On the MP3 Player: "Mrs. Jackson" by Outkast.
I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow, which includes (but is not limited too) at least four seperate Post Office visits, one bout of breakfast, some kind of a breakfast, possibly a small dinner, and BLARGING at night. Phew! How am I going to fit it all in? Cheers to you, and good eve.
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