Hey lovers

I got here. The plane didn't even crash a little, the flight was very nice. I watched three films back to back to distract me from thinking about the fucker falling out of the sky: the latest Pride and Prejudice (sucked), Four Brothers (all hot), and some Emily Watson/Tom Wilkinson/Rupert Everett outing (basculating). I still don't have an appointment for my defense. But Miss C has the nicest loft apartment in downtown Paris with a bed that is looking might-ee fucking comfy right now. I did my usual anti-jet lag strategy; totally fucking with my sleeping patterns for days in advance in the hope my poor confused body just chooses the right one to replace it with once I arrive wherever.

Anyways, being here is odd, but nice, but especially odd. I'd forgotten how the different metro stations smell - then I was just going through a tunnel humming along to Twice Removed, and it was all 'Oh! I smell Chatêlet!' So now I'm going to sleep, then eat, then shop, then meet Miss P and see Stéphane Rousseau. Hopefully at some point within this schedual my school will, you know, stop being criminally irresponsible. If not, I guess I'll just have to fucking well start. It would be fun. I sure have alot of tension to punch out. Might even be more fun than actually defending . . . hmmmm . . .

UPDATE

Tomorrow morning at 11. By the times all you North American readers wake up, it'll be done. The cool thing is that it was proposed 11h30, but my advisor couldn't make that, which means he probably doesn't think this will top out an hour, which means, you know, it's only an hour long. I'm not ready, but I'm too angry to care. And at the moment, too hungry and sleepy, even after a delicious nap.