I take a week off in Paris, and this is what I get?!
I apparently missed a week of lame comics poetry, which I would have cherished a chance to participate in; the latest scientific poopery articles passed me right by; and my micturating indiscretions, which I thought had been consigned to the forgotten compost heap of lameness, are thrown up in my face. On top of all that, Paris in the Spring, so axiomatically admired and lionized, featured rain squalls, a May Day Labor celebration in which all museums were closed, and a Métro strike.
I take a week off in Paris, and this is what I get?!
I apparently missed a week of lame comics poetry, which I would have cherished a chance to participate in; the latest scientific poopery articles passed me right by; and my micturating indiscretions, which I thought had been consigned to the forgotten compost heap of lameness, are thrown up in my face. On top of all that, Paris in the Spring, so axiomatically admired and lionized, featured rain squalls, a May Day Labor celebration in which all museums were closed, and a Métro strike.