This is what happens when you blog while tired and drinking beer.

I booked all the hotels for our upcoming Italian Jaunt today. Unfortunately, I had to modify my intricately laid Hotel plan I developed last week-end.
I blame it not on myself, but upon the contraction of the rare disease which tends to afflict many males throughout the summer months. Yes, I have contracted a severe case of “too-lazy-to-get-off-my-sorry-assitus”. Symptoms include

· Falling asleep on the patio for hours at end

· Allowing both the desk at home AND the office to become covered in a layer of paper more than 3cm

· Having your wife-to-be (who tends to be more clutter prone then you) comment “man….. this place is a mess, and responding with a grunt. Just for the record I will have you know that it was an intelligent, well rounded and thought out grunt, thank you very much!

· Using the floor as a CD storage unit.



Luckily the cure for this is a trip to Italy, so this vacation now counts as therapeutic, so, I can claim it on my medical benefits. What’s that you say? Bah! Jail-Schmail!!!!!



I look forward to my wedding and the trip, but I also seem to be yearning for a return to normalcy in my house. Although in all honesty I don’t know what that is.



So anyway, due to the above noted affliction, the hotels that I had chosen no longer had rooms available. I set out with my trusty Frommer’s guide to find new places in in the total of about an hour had booked everything. What’s the Moral of this story? I spent hours looking at Hotels and researching, because the internet travel experience allows it. There is so much information out there nowadays that we can research the hell out of anything, then in the end, we still have to rush to make decisions.
I LOVE being wired. But, sometimes I hate the internet.


Tomorrow brings more shopping. Perhaps an iPod for this geeky rambler and a night out with the boys. Kind of a Stag Night. We are going to a place Called “Dave & Busters”. Which I can best describe as a Chuck-e-cheese for big boys.

Hear that? That was the sound of any doubt that my inner five year old runs this show escaping.


1 week and half an hour to my wedding day!