You know, you'd think that I'd be used to the cold. It's not like I come from somewhere extraordinarily warm. It might just be that I'm used to the snow when it's this cold--there would be snow everywhere and you'd get to walk through something pretty, rather than streets that smell like piss near the alleys.

I will look into purchasing tickets for Barcelona later today and/or tomorrow. Must speak to Rachel to see if Christmas plans are cemented--in which case I would be an extremely happy upstanding citizen.

[I like this whole paying job thing--too bad it equates working upwards of 70 hours a week.]

Sometime soon I will check out this tattoo artist a friend from work gets stuff done by. I'll get my tattoo sometime soon--and, no worries, Mom, it won't be somewhere tacky. Besides, it's literary--can you ask for anything better?