Dear Diary;
MAN – I freaking LOVE being here!! Some tweaks are still needed; I can’t figure out where they unpacked my good pajamas, and the hot-tub jets are turned up so high I think my balls are gonna get blown off. But for the most part I’m happy as a clam in shit. Or something like that.

Some things are pretty odd though…  A tampon machine hangs on the wall in the ladies-room-turned-Confessional (makes it pretty fucking hard to feel penitent when a big fat TAMPAX sign is staring down at ya), the Chapel wreaks of stale Jean Naté, which makes me wanna hurl my communion wafer (don’t nuns use ANY other cologne, for crap’s sake?), and one of my dressers is packed full of old wimples, along with a stack of soiled, circa 1967 Altar Boy Monthly magazines (made me chortle!).

On the plus side, it sure is nice to have access to the Vatican Starbucks again. The espresso at Castel Gandolfo sucked donkey balls.