Loose Cans

I think this may be one of the longest vacations I've ever had from Loose Cans Inc. Though it wasn't actually a voluntary one. I just couldn't get to a computer. Although it was a relief to see how well everyone kept the flame alive in the delightfully burgeoning comments section. Unfortunately, I must delay everyone's gratification yet a little while longer. As said many, many times before, I hate blogging at Halls. Which is of course where I am. Also, I am about to keel over and die from exhaustion. I dropkicked Mike into a taxi at 2:30am this morning (we had a lovely time, about which I suggest HE comment, because frankly I really don't have time now), went back to sleep until 7:30, then headed over to UCD for the first leg of the Dublin Tournament, where I think I played, in all, more hours than I slept. I just walked home, the skin of my feet is barely clinging to the bone, and I have this bizarre bump on my knee from when the ground came up and I came down. Furthermore I have to pick up Rebecca at 9am tomorrow (up at 7:30 again!), to say nothing of write a bloody paper. So I am writing only to let you know that I have not forgotten you, meine lieblings, and you shall soon have all the blog you can eat.

So sorry for the fits-and-starts blogging; it's awful hard when you're hosting. Just a few things to report. First, Mike and I had a lovely time playing Ultimate today in godawful, filthy weather. Second, we go to Paris tomorrow. Blogging will likely occur, as we will be staying in my friend Claude's spacious flat in Montmartre. Alone. Just the two of us, with the run of the apartment. Hostellers, eat your livers. We will be there till thursday evening. Finally, Mike has his heart set on seeing The Passion with me. I am, as Joyce wrote, "of twosome twiminds." I feel like I need to see it (and of course if I don't see it with Mike, the only other Noo Yawk Jew around, I won't see it at all), but on the other hand, I really don't want to see it, as I have no tolerance for gore at all, and this movie's supposed to be really horrendous. So we have agreed on this: we see it thursday. We drink heavily beforehand. I don't want to see this, but if I must, I have no intention of being able to see it straight. And we sit in the theatre, loudly read the subtitles in Yiddish accents, make snide comments (when they nail him to the cross, go "WHOOMP THERE IT IS!"), laugh at highly inappropriate moments, and wear running shoes.