August 20th, 2004

NewYorkNewYork

(no subject)

I just finished reading The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin. I don't know if it was just my emotional state, if I've just been feeling prone to sentimentality (and I have), or if it really was that damned touching... but I was touched.

If you've read any of his books lately (or read or seen Picasso at the Lapine Agile) then I recommend it to you. MUCH better than Shopgirl, which felt more like take two of LA Story to me, but then I don't have any great love of California to win me over for it.

Now I have to stop sniffling and get back to work.
NewYorkNewYork

Helllooooo Paris

Grande suite with king bed - Spacious sitting room. Dining room. Contemporary paintings. Luxury marble en-suite bathroom with double vanity, tub and separate shower. Direct dial two line phone. Sound proofing, 44 - 55 square metres. Contemporary decor. Air-conditioning, cable TV, CD player, VCR, fax machine, hairdryer, safe, mini bar, trouser press, direct dial phone with voice mail, work desk.


So we've revised the honeymoon. 8-9 days just in Paris instead of splitting it between London and Paris. Leisurely time... we can go to Champagne, we can just wander around, we can spend a day in Montmatre just standing there thinking "holy shit, Paris", we can smoke. ANYWHERE. Because it's Paris and the French smoke CONSTANTLY.
heh


So... Honeymoon down or on it's way anyway.
Just uhm..
Dress (going hunting Sunday with Steph)
Place (narrowing it down. The Hirshorn says no)
Officiant (plenty available)
Flowers (a single bouquet... easy)
Photographer (ugh.. so hard to pick!)
Passport (got my stuff, just need to get in there and do it)
Marriage License (again, got the stuff. Ya know.. uhm.. blood...)

And I just have to find a way not to go batshit crazy with work in the mean time.
NewYorkNewYork

(no subject)

I said... make me a drink... anything... there's some cold coffee.. maybe put some khalua in it?

I got a thing that TASTED like a white russian... but on no food, massive stress, and major amounts of fucking BURNT OUT ON WORK BULLSHIT I NEED TO HIT THINGS AND SCREAM AND THEN CRY BECAUSE I HATE EVERYTHING AND I NEED A BREAK OR I'M GOING TO START HAVING FUCKING PANIC ATTACKS AND I WILL NOT DO THAT ABOUT SOMETHING AS ASSINIE AS MOTHER FUCKING WORK... I'm already pretty buzzed.

So... I should go ask Karl to make me another... just like that one... while I stand outside, sway lightly in the humid breeze and smoke.