When you think about it, it’s not the weirdest thing in the world to imagine the lead singer of the Rolling Stones as a travel writer. For one thing, he’s been touring for over 40 years--I mean, where hasn’t the guy been? And anyone who could pen the line “I’m Jumping Jack Flash, it’s a gas, gas, gas” obviously knows how to string two words together. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that aside from the fact that he’s a world-famous rock star and I’m an American woman toiling tunelessly in frugal anonymity (well, that and the fact that I could probably eat Mick for breakfast and still want seconds on toast), our lives aren’t really all that different.
Except I have a blog and he doesn't. Poor bastard.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
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