Iowahawk in ghey Paree:

"So vhat are you doink here? Are you artist or writers or zomesink?" laughs Fille un.

The Doctor and the Professor point at me. "He's a writer."

"Really?" they ask, enthusiastically. "Novels? Screenplays? Have we heard of you?"

I'm still looking around trying to figure out who they were pointing at.

"He's a blogger," offers Professor Jonathan. "He's . . . well, sort of known."

The three filles react to this as if they had learned I wrote school lunch menus or lawnmower warning stickers. Despite his revealed association with blogospheric scum, the filles continue their flirtation with Dr. Carlos, who deftly extracts a party invite for Saturday night.

Apparently, that Burge Magic doesn't quite work across the Atlantic. Which is cool, because that means that the Chicks of the Americas have him all to ourselves.

I mean, I know that I'm married, and all—but it's nice to have that Dove Bar in the freezer you know you'll never eat.

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