That’s right, boys! Soak it up!
So I’m on a plane right now flying to Cannes for the the tiny, little film festival they do annually, and I’m having trouble remembering who I slept with/killed to get this opportunity. Also, my 767 jet must be equipped with magic because I’m posting on the site from 1000s of fee up in the air. Eat your heart out, George Jetson. Your future looks like a silly b*tch now.
Come to think of it, no one in their right or wrong mind would request sexual favors from me in exchange for a trip to Cannes. That’s right Stella Artois so kindly sponsored this excursion for me. I plan on living it up on the French Riviera like Jacques D’azur, and attempting to hit on as many women as he has bedded with a simple come hither glance. Don’t post this on my girlfriend’s Facebook wall. She doesn’t read the site.
I’ll be bringing you all kinds of fun audio and/or visual presentations documenting my escapades at the film festival. I even had to rent a tuxedo. With a bowtie. Why do I have a strange feeling I’ll be working this trip off by serving tray passed mini quiches at an after party?
I’m not certain yet what screenings I’ll be attending or what galas I’ll be drunkenly stumbling into, but rest assured you will know when I know. I mainly just plan on donning my tux 24/7 and unsuccessfully trying to convince people I’m Daniel Craig. Not James Bond, mind you. Daniel Craig. Now to secure some piercing blue eyes…
My battery is running out because I lack discipline and don’t refresh it like Apple suggests you do at least once a month, so I’ll say au revoir for now. Keep on checking back for my updates and the use of French words that I pick up at high-stakes poker games and mustache-twisting pow-wows. Kisses, my babies!