Hello millions of fans...

I realize it's been a long time since I've posted anything. Here is my excuse: I work at ten in the morning and I have a twenty two minute walk down what can only be described as a vast and cascading precipice to work. When I arrive, I walk the beach all day until 6 p.m. collecting money for beach chairs like a god forsaken meter maid and bringing refreshing drinks and spaghetti bolognaise to hungry beach goers. I don't really know who wants piping hot spaghetti in 100 degree heat, but to each their own. All day I sweat more calories than a one ton man giving a round of applause, and to be honest, the last thing I want to do after work it is handwrite anything. Or think at all for that matter. But today I can write because I am not working.

Why aren't I working, you ask? Well, Sophie and I have had a change of heart - a big one. We've decided to sell all our material possessions we brought with us and move to India to do charity work with the untouchables. You know, Slumdog Millionaire bullshit. Just kidding. It's a much more selfish change of heart. We've met so many people throughout our time in Ios - most of whom are visiting in the midst of a Eurotrip. And, well, we're jealous. we're starting to get the travelers itch here. So we gave our 1 weeks notice a few days ago and on Sunday we're starting a Eurtrip of our own.

I must pause and take this time to worship four people: our parents. We debated so long about how to tell them, thinking they would be disappointed with us for not sticking to our guns, but their response was beyond amazing. They are completely supportive and excited for us. This is making us much more excited and honestly we could not be more grateful to have been born to such special people. Luh ewe guyz.

We are obviously wicked excited and are open to suggestions as to where to go. Bare (sp?) in mind that neither of us packed any clothing that reaches past our mid-thighs, so places like the Swiss Alps or Everest might be a no-go.

Important Things to Note About Today:
1. Today is the day after Finnegan's second birthday.
2. Today is Catherine's half birthday.
3. It's two days away from Jesus' half birthday.
4. My birthday is one month from tomorrow. This is the most important of the four.

Last night Sophie and I went out after a couple days of much needed rest. Here are some highlights:
1. Sophie and I developed a new policy of introducing ourselves to people we don't want to know as Deborah and Sylvia. I'm Deborah. Sophie's Sylvia. Tonight I might be Gladys. I have to consult with Sylvia on this one, I don't know how she feels about consistency.
2. This new bar we went to was pumping some classic hits. Sophie and I were singing, grooving and photobombing pictures that groups of completely shithoused Scandinavians are taking when Kid Rock's, "All Summer Long," comes on the stereo. Say what you will about the song, but we eat this shit up. I take a sip of my Sex on the Beach and observe the scene. People are generally just drunkenly jumping and swaying, save Sophie and my friend Christo. They are standing in the middle of the dancefloor, but not dancing. Christo is looking extremely confused and Sophie has him by both shoulders, shaking him, saying "Are you kidding me? You don't know this song? You don't know 'Sweet Home Alabama'???" I am in disbelief. Then I am laughing. Then I am wiping Sex on the Beach from my nostrils. Then I just watch as the third chorus comes around and it dawns on Sophie. We are both laughing. Christo remains confused.
3. That is all.

Things I've Noticed:
1. The milk here is delicious. Seriously. I don't know what it is, but it is the most delicious thing ever, here. Those two sentences were pretty circular, but I'm gonna go with it. They used to sell small cartons of it at the grocery store, but it appears I bought out the entire island. Not to be deprived of this udderly (ha.) scrumptious beverage, I have gotten into the habit of buying litre bottles and drinking them on the way to work. It's like a gallon challenge. Ron Burgundy is quoted as saying, "It's so hot, milk was a bad choice." I say nay. It is the most glorious drink on God's green earth, despite the temperature being so hot that I get cleave sweat despite my complete lack of cleavage whatsoever.
2. Greece's World Cup offender, number seven, looks like Jesus Christ would had he vacationed for a few months in your run-of-the-mill concentration camp. Only he didn't die for our sins, he blew it and cost Greece their chances in the final. Damn you, Jesus.
3. When Sophie and I wake up late, we take the bus to work. Not because it gets us there faster. Actually it usually gets us there slower. It is because it means we're too hung over and ill to survive the walk down to work. Yesterday, the bus driver put the bus in park after we get on and went over to a telephone poll next to the bus stop and removed tacks from it. For about ten minutes. For no apparent reason. He picks the day of the epic hangover to dawdle when Sophie and I are five minutes late for work and counting and viciously battling to keep our insides inside us.
4. We have determined that the Serbian Chefs at our restaurants were dweebs in their youths. The more we interact with them, the more obvious it becomes. Sometimes they are lovable dweebs. Sometimes there are dweebs you want to give dangerously long swirlies to. It varies. Usually with the severity of our hangovers or exhaustion.

Sophie and I went to a bar-b-q hosted by the failing watersports company whose station is on the beach where I waitress...or used to waitress...There are about 100 people there, all aged 20-25, frolicking in the pool, swimming and basking in the pool chairs. Give someone a microphone and it would've been MTV Spring Break 2010. Sophie and I, having nulled our sexual desiribility by doing cannon balls and playing WhoCanSwimUnderTheWaterFarther and Let'sThrowABallAtSomeoneJumpingOffTheEdgeOfThePoolAndTryAndCatchIt and LetsTryAndDrownEachother, remove ourselves to take up pool chairs and calm down. Then, up behind this group of girls with their feet in the pool comes this kid, no older than three, with his orange speedo at his ankles. He is peeing with no hands. This goes unnoticed by most as Sophie and I try not to wet our already soaking bikinis when his Babooshka or whatever notices. Having been caught red handed - or no-handed I should say - he scampers away. Actually he waddles considering his suit is suit is still on the ground. I shall call him Willy.

America plays today! Down with Algeria! Wooooooooooo.