What Did That Mean? Where Could It

It’s My Own Fault, Really. For Believing In Fairy Tales. Not That I Ever Mistook Them For Actual Historical Fact, Or Anything. But I Did Grow Up Believing That For Every Girl, There’s A Prince Out There Somewhere. All She Has To Do Is Find Him. Then It’s On With The Happily Ever After. So You Can Only Imagine What Happened When I Found Out. That My Prince Really Is One. A Prince. No, I Really Mean It. He’s An Actual Prince.

I’ve Never Enjoyed Myself More Than I Have The Past Forty-eight Hours, During Which I’ve Been Trapped In A Car With One Of The Worst Drivers I’ve Ever Seen, Run Up The Spanish Steps And Then Down Again So I Could Be On Time To Wait In Line To Perjuer Myself At The American Consulate. And I’d Like To Continue Doing Those Sorts Of Thing With You On A Regular Basis For The Foreseeable Future.

What Did That Mean? Where Could It Go? He Was A Death Diety. I Was A High School Senior.

That Hurt Querida, That Really Hurt

I Was Too Lazy To Start A Whole New Story, So I Just Stuck A Princess Into The Story I Was Working On... And The Princess Diaries Was Born!