A few things you should know about our present digs--firstly, it's pretty damned sweet. We have a stellar view of York Racecourse, home of the Ebor Handicap...this is from the balcony of our room.

Told ya, not too shabby! Oh, and in addition to the view of the racecourse, we also have a huge tree full of wildlife. Case in point:

These guys have been nesting here for pretty much the whole time--I feel very Tippi Hedren circa The Birds. We also have a number of reDONKulously fat bunnies who come out every night, graze, chase each other around the lawn, and consistently avoid my camera (stealthy little fat asses!).

The hotel staff is extremely nice, and the chef of the restaurant downstairs even told us to let him know a day in advance, and he'd make us whatever we want just because he knows eating the same thing over and over again can get dull. We kind of wound up doing that anyway for a couple of nights, firstly because we were jet lagged and by the time we woke up, McDonald's was the only thing still open, and we returned there last night because I'm covered in hives, look like a leper, and prefer avoiding public until it dies down a bit. Not sure if it's because of the damned feather bed or the bath products in the room, but let me say a word or two about said bath products. This shit right here...

smells distinctly of what a nursing home would smell like if submerged in lemon-scented pinesol. It's UNGODLY putrid and shall be my Christmas present to you all, BWAHAHAHA! Whoa...sorry about that. The crap must be gettin' to my brain! Also putrid-- and I believe it must simply be the lemon as that's the common thread between the two--the 7Up. Don't let it fool you! This 7Up tastes fine...until 3.47 seconds have gone by. Then it hits you. You pause, smack a few times, then realize that the only possible conclusion is that you just drank a canned cocktail of urine, lemon, battery acid, and a hint of vomit (to be fair, that could be your own as a result of the first three ingredients, but one can never be quite sure). I hope you appreciate your introduction to the 7Up of Death! Doesn't he just look ominous?!

Okay, just two more things about the hotel, then I can get to the fun stuff. First order of business, I have henceforth decided to tell people my weight in kilograms without specifying which unit of measure I'm using...DAMN, that's not going to work so well now that I've told you all my plot. Nonetheless, the scale in the bathroom amuses me. Please observe the two units of measure on this scale...

For those of you with less than stellar vision, that's kilograms and stones. TEHE! Okay, so maybe it's silly that I find that so hilarious...kind of like my amusement over the aging of the Queen on their coins. Oh, didn't mention that? Please observe the growth of the chins of the Queen--but do so respectfully--she's the freakin' queen, yo!

The papers here have been discussing a lot the weather phenomenon about the marked increase in precipitation in the last 40 years...I think the queen's hair in these effigies should be considered as further evidence. Doesn't increased rain make your hair get bigger, too?

Okay, so back from that tangent, it's time I introduce you that other most important aspect of our hotel life...our alarm clock. Meet Prudence.

What? Prudence is a plant, you say? Well, yes, yes she is. She's also an alarm clock. But...but HOW? Well, my dears, the answer to this is quite simple. Prudence likes to come out to play...and as an alarm clock, she helps us greet the brand new day. Ten points to everyone who gets what the hell I'm talking about. =D Prudence loves Lady Gaga. She loves Lady Gaga so much that she begged me to sing along with her as she serenaded Ric yesterday. This is how we woke him, this is how Prudence prefers it, and well...Dear Prudence simply must have her way. That's that, folks. Rules are rules. Anywho, must get last night's pictures together, optimized, etc. so I'll be back later to tell you all of last night's adventures...yes, cops were involved. 'Til then!