In the mood for torture, Vic and I popped in on New Year's Day.



Vic prepares to decapitate me.
(photo by them)



Not sure what's going on here, but it's kinda scary.



All about torture. Worth a read (zoom in and choose your language!).



Are those Bugle Boy jeans you're wearing?



Mark and Cathy preferred Bermuda.



London rocks!



Anne Robinson, that wench from "The Weakest Link," is one of history's "wicked women."



Idiot instructions for the ride at the end of the tour.

January 1, 2003, 4:00pm London time Vic's silky purple bed Buckingham palace was a huge disappointment. I arrived after dark, but I didn't think it would pose a problem since, for some reason, I had expected the whole place to be lit up by colorful spotlights. But it was completely unlit. It looked like an abandoned prison. I could barely make out the ceremonial guards with the funny hats walking around in front of it. Marble Arch was another disappointment. I decided to stop there at the end of my visit and found it cordoned off and locked up. Right in front of it was a makeshift ice skating rink filled with annoying little kids. Then I met up with Vic and went to a New Year's party at her friend's place. The party was pretty good, but there were fireworks between me and Vic. We had another little argument. 2003 was off to a disconcerting start. On the way home from the party, Vic and I stopped at the London Dungeon. OK, but a bit drawn out. It doesn't compare to the truly grotesque Museum of Death in San Diego. Hearing screaming and groaning over the speakers while you're going to the bathroom was quite an experience. And why does every single gift shop on the planet have bins full of round, polished stones and crystals?

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