Oh. Hell. Yeah. It's probably a sad indication that my life is full of pointless things, but living without an Internet connection for close on 3 weeks has nearly killed me.  I mean, I feel like I know nothing.  The world has passed me by.  I am bereft of both purpose and meaning.

So, onto AOL.  We signed up perfectly easily.  That should have been the first warning.  You never sign up for anything perfectly easily, unless its gonna fuck you in the ass in a couple of days time.  As it turns out, AOL is a cable broadband service, a fact mentioned not one time during sign up, and only on a confirmation  letter sent to my parents.  What good is that?  My parents here "cable", they think "wires".  And all computers run on wires, so whats the problem? Anyway, two engineers came along:

"OK, this is what were gonna do.  The box sitting in the bottom corner of your garden.  We'll run the wires along this fences, I'm going to have to channel out a small tunnel that I'll later fill with some Insta-Drive(tm).  Then, the cable runs through this wall..."

"But, thats the lounge.  The computer is the other end of the house."

"Right.  OK.  Well we could run it through the garage, and drill here..."

"Look, what is this about drilling?"

"To make holes, you see?"

"Yes, I see"

"You see?"

"I certainly do.  Look, let me just go speak to someone who, you know, actually built this house and run your drilling plan past him"

And that was the day the Internet was no more.

OK, onto other things.  We went to Disneyland Paris which was good.  Space Mountain isn't as great as I remembered it to be, but the new Rock 'n' Rollercoaster is really bitchin'.  It's very similar to the one in Orlando, with the accelerated start that takes your breath away, and I'm pretty sure its faster all the way round compared to its Florida counterpart.  Plus, you have Aerosmith playing in the background.  What more could you want?

Then there was the funny stuff.  We went to a steakhouse on the last night.  When our order came, we were missing some onion rings.  The waiter was walking off:

My Dad: Excuse me. Sorry.  Excuse me. HOLA!

Me: Wrong languange by a mile, Dad.

(Waiter comes back)

Waiter: Sí señor, cuál soy el problema?

Me: Oh for fucks sake.

Anyway, he later denied saying hola, instead insisting it was a noise of some form, which I forget.  Maybe mola or wola or something.  Either way, I'm not sure its a good excuse, let alone a better alternative.

Second funny observation.  At Birmingham airport, there is the usual sign that says do not take onboard the aircraft the following things:  Nail scissors, metal combs, tweezers, the usual lethal implements.  At Charles de Gaulle airport, the sign is a bit different.  It says "do not take on the following items: gas cannisters, solvents, fireworks, proper big blades, machetes..."  The French have the right idea.  Who actually ever thought of attacking anyone with a metal haircomb before the UK airports said you couldn't take on onboard?  There's probably been a rash of hair-maintenance related assaults since September 11th, that so far, no-one has tapped into.  And whose to blame?  Alice is to blame.  I used to feel bad about blaming Alice for everything, but then she ditched everyone in the last week of term to go sunbathe.  Plus, she very well may not exist.

Hope everyone has a good weekend at James.  I'd be there, but its Sale weekend, and I'm busting my ass to afford stuff in the future.

That's as much as I care to remember.

Speak soon,

Craig