I think I’m in a lot of trouble, diary. Let me explain.
I have a new mantra, diary. “One more leg. Just one. More. Leg.”
You must be getting pretty bored, diary. After all, there are only so many ways I can write “Evil triumphs. AGAIN.” Sigh.
This was kind of a good news – bad news leg, diary. The bad news? Evil still walks among us. The good news? I didn’t start World War Three. So I suppose we’re even.
Today’s lesson, diary, is to be careful what you wish for. I got my wishes alright, in spades. Next time I just need to be a little more specific.
Hey diary, how are you doing. What’s that smell, you ask? Well, for the first time in JB knows how long, it has nothing to do with animal by-products.
Oh crap. Do I have to do this? Do I really have to do this now? Yeah, I know, if I don’t do it now, I never will. You are a harsh and cruel mistress, diary. Harsh and cruel…
Things at the Pit Stop are getting rough. Familiarity breeds contempt; it also seems to breed resentment, childishness, and dumb practical jokes.
That was a trip. In more ways than one, as you’ll see shortly. As I mentioned in my last entry, I got quite a bit of rest before the last Pit Stop.
I decided to take it easy this time. This was entirely voluntary; that injunction Wardrobe took out, barring me from coming within two hundred yards of Phil if I had any detectable alcohol in my system, had nothing to do with it.
This has to have been the longest two days of my life. And most painful. Did I mention the pain? I guess I should start at the beginning.
After Steve and Debra got Philiminated in Cortina (and I could hear them whooping it up all the way to the Sequesterville Trolley), I had to spend two hours getting that Lonely Goatherd make-up off. Then it was eat, sleep, and mingle time.
This is going to be a gig and a half. Official Greeter for The Amazing Race! What an opportunity! I have to say, I was a little surprised to be asked, because I thought they always hired them on site.