Gay Paris

I'm off to Paris in an hour for a 4-day weekend of sheer indulgence with Jo.

I know. I know. It's SUCH a stereotypical thing to do: Romance in Paris, but I'll have you know that we spent HOURS trying to find flights to more exotic locations that didn't eat away at our friday and monday too much. But there were fuck all.

It's entirely Jo's fault of course, for living in such a tragically unhip county. All we could find from her local airports was flights to melanoma-land-Lanzarote and twat-city-Alicante. Flights to Berlin, Barcelona or Oslo would've cost a whole travel day, which, quite frankly, I'm not willing to sacrifice off a 4-day weekend with my girrel.

So... 3 nights in Paris.

I'm thinking... roomservice, hide-and-seek in the Louvre, a wee boogie down the Gay Quartier, lazy reading over Cafés Russes, indulgent day-time sneak-backs to the hotel and christmas shopping at the souvenir-stand.

A bientôt mes amis!