Tomorrow, as many of you are acutely aware, is July 7, 2007, or as I can annoyingly truncate:
That's right. It's one of those dates that's not quite a palindrome but has a lot of the same numbers, so it's really ominous and shit. Even if 777 is a bit luckier than that puzzlingly controversial 666.
What's so bad about it? A whole sagging titty full of weddings, that's what. First the ceremony of the union of evil shrike Eva Longoria and Tony Parker and then about 10 billion more. I'd rather have the Satanic stuff, personally.
But July 4 and 7.7.07 will have to get wrapped up, at least for me, into one extended event, as admittedly, I'm one of those assholes who took pretty much the whole week off because the Fourth was on a Wednesday.
How have I spent it? Well, I travelled to experience a July 4th in New York with Ufford, which I was sure would entail the following:
But then I get there and it's nothing but hot dog eating contests, Stella being friendly and not even one 'SPLOSION. What a gyp.
Enjoy the weekend.