Vacation is so over, and it’s back to school time. Woo. Hoo.
Had a great time in Europe. I survived the world’s largest Ferris wheel, the London Eye, though it’s resemblance to my childhood bicycle wheel worried me.

Here’s something else that didn’t exactly comfort me.

Don’t touch because you don’t want to break out the Windex, or don’t touch because I could fall through and go plummeting to my death on the cold, hard concrete below? Just asking.

My cats also survived the nearly two weeks without me. One of them (the psycho one who is frequently on mental-meds) has followed me around all week. Just staring. At first I thought it was like, “Oh, I cannot let you out of my sight, for fear you will disappear again.” But now I’m thinking it’s probably more like, “If I keep my laser stare on her long enough, maybe she’ll catch on fire and run away again.” It’s not working, Psycho Kitty. I am resistant to your beady, creepy gaze.

This was the longest time away from Internet and my cell phone for me. It was actually quite nice. But you know what I missed the most? My Britney/Lindsay updates. Seriously, every time I would call home it would go something like this: “How are you? Uh-huh, great. And Britney? And Lindsay? What?! Nothing? Surely you jest! You’re playing with me—torturing me from across the globe.” It’s like E! couldn’t do their job, knowing their most faithful viewer couldn’t tune in. And the second I get back, Brit jumps in a pool topless with a college guy. It’s like entertainment time had stopped for me, only to resume again on my return. Could a girl ask for anything more?

So more vacation details later. I have some fun, super meaningful pics to share. But you probably do need to know that I committed a crime in Paris. I took a picture of the American Embassy. Apparently you cannot do that. The guards blew their whistle and yelled at me from across the street. I had to cross the street, weaving through perilous traffic (okay, nobody was coming, but with those crazy drivers, you never know.), and present myself to the uniformed gentlemen.

“Are you an American?”
“Yes, sir.” (Insert heavy Southern accent here in case anybody found it the least bit cute. They didn’t)
“Did you take a picture of the Embassy?” (Said like I had just pledged my allegiance to Osama Bin Laden)
“Yes.” Please don’t shoot me with your big guns.
“You can’t do that.” And he sticks out his hand for my camera.

Now at this point I am all smiles and manners because I had hundreds of pictures on this camera, and I didn’t want to lose them just because a “friend” asked me to take a picture of the stupid embassy. (Kids, a real friend won’t ever ask you to steal, do drugs, or take a picture of the American Embassy in Paris.)

“Do you want me to delete the picture?” As in please don’t touch my camera.
Another guard pipes up. “Am I in the picture? If so, you don’t have to delete it.”
Me. “Really?”
“No.” Oh, Embassy jokes. Those are the BEST!!!

And then they watched me fumble with my camera (my thumbs wouldn’t work) and delete the offensive picture. And that was it. Or was it?

See I’ve watched enough Alias in my day. I know these people will now be following me, tapping my phone, searching my computer when I’m at work to see if I had truly taken more than ONE picture of the Embassy. Desperate to see if I was more than just a simple tourist with a rogue point-and-shoot finger. Probably by this time next week I will have a new identity, go by the name Myrtle T. Doody, and will disappear, only to mysteriously reappear on an isolated section of Bora Bora.

All because I took a picture of the American Embassy.

I believe there’s a lesson here for all of us. If warning you of the dangers of snapping trip pics of the Embassy is all I accomplish in this life, then it was well lived. If I can save just one of you, it is worth it.

If you never hear from me again, please know that I shall have a happy life wherever my new identity takes me.

Think of me fondly-
Myrtle

I know you’re just dying for all the juicy details about my Euro trip, such as my altercation at the US Embassy in Paris (pictures = no no), getting frisked at the airport (hand violations!!), and almost getting taken out by a manic biker (I didn’t know I was in “her lane.” Excusez moi.). But it will have to wait. I must catch up on drinking ice tea (when will those Europeans see the light?), laundering my undies (no laundry=commando), and pulling myself out of the deep depression I call “Thirty-six hours until I have to either return to school or throw myself in front of a bus.”

But in the meantime, I want to share this video my good friend Tiffany sent. I don’t want to like it–in all its cheesy glory–but I do. It’s like a happy pill for my back-to-school blues. “NIV with the ribbon bookmark. NIV with the ribbon bookmark…”

“And if you’re Catholic, there’s even more.”
See? It’s hard not to like it, right? Kinda like Hannah Montana. Darn you for being so cute and clever!

“She’s got good doctrine…” His mad rhymes put me to shame.

More updates later. I need to clean some litter boxes and download a million pictures. Sadly, no Prince William sightings. The Royal fam was off on holiday. I take that personally–like they knew my revamped stalking strategies and I were coming.

One day, Will, you must face me. It is destiny. And I will introduce you to the important things in life.
Like ice tea.