bow to the half-queen
Wednesday, May. 12, 2004 @ 6:46 p.m.

I served a mafia wedding, and they had two six-foot roasted pigs from which they were slicing ass-meat to feed angry italian mothers. The mayor was there and I was chastised by Mme. Paletta for being in the same room as her silver platter.

There's a prince coming to my hotel. He owns a seven star resort (my hotel has a bajillion stars! [3]) and he's one of the richest men in the world. The reason for his visit to our putrid toilet bowl city is common to any other: he will be receiving an honorary bachelor of science from McMaster University. Students eat your hearts out: apparently you don't need the information to say you've got the education!

Mention of these extravagances brings me to Hockley Highlands which, as we've learned, is an origin and point of culmination for the entire hospitality realm:

I've decided to become half a manager at the Highlands, with Amy as my other half.

Which brings me one half-step closer to divinity.