This is the last Sunday ever on which I have to get up the next morning and go to class at this particular establishment. This disconcerts; I distinctly remember saying goodbye to the family at Heathrow airport about three days ago. I even remember the people standing in front of me at the check-in desk. And I've been thinking: two weeks, one change of planes in Houston, and I'll be at home. But, I'm at home here. Seriously, I'm riven about this in all kinds of ways. Like, I've done everything here which you do at home: laughed, cried, made out, got drunk and vowed to redecorate on a weekly basis. And I made friends, which I vowed not to do, because it would only be depressing when I had to leave. Bugger.

Also, Americans are hot. I'm sorry, it's a fact. As a rule, they just are.

So tonight we went to see Margaret Cho, and she made me feel better about the world in myriad ways. Even better, she did the 'MY NAME'S GWEN I'M HERE TO WAAAAASH YOUR VAGINA' routine, about which I feel the same as Eddie Izzard's 'Hello, we're the Romans' bit.

Also, ice flumes? The best single aid to inebriation, ever. Or should that be inebriatEON? Hmm?

No. It should not.

Also, the police in this country? Fucking ridiculous. I don't get it. Like, this city has a ridiculously high frequency of sexual assault, and where are the (armed(!)) law enforcement officers? Breaking up house parties, that's where. I blame Bill Clinton. If I were a police officer I know I'd feel thrilled about my contribution to law and order that I spent Friday nights dealing with the Looming Criminal Threat that is drunken college students.

Man. I am opinEONated tonight.

Sorry.