I have been contracted to write an article about poo.

It better not be Google-able.

You know, just in case someone from my high school happens to Google my name. I'd prefer that the next time a Laguna Beach HS alum wonders what I've been up to, writing articles about poo isn't the answer.

And don't tell me you don't make career choices based on what someone from your high school might find if they happened to Google your name.

For your information, the article is actually about "body cleanses."

Aka "colon cleanses."

Aka POO.

Ack.

You have no idea how disgusting this is to research. Actually I bet you can guess. Just imagine thinking about poo non-stop for three hours. And intestinal parasites. And fecal encrustation. Are you totally grossed out yet???

I am.

But I'm also thinking, is this one of those articles where actually experiencing the subject would improve the discussion thereof? Because, reading all this, you're kind of like, gee, how clean is my colon?

Then again, considering that the colon processes shit, how clean could it be?

Well, I'll tell you. As soon as I'm done with this article.

All I know at this point is that the guy who played Paris Hilton's love interest in her video for "Stars Are Blind" (yeah yeah I watched the making of the music video you know you would have too if you hadn't been watching True Hollywood Story: Hillary Duff) said that when they called him up about the opportunity to be in the vid, he was in the middle of a colonic. Which is sort of a disgusting thing for such a good-looking person to say, in my opinion. But if someone who has kisssed Paris can announce on national television that has gets poo-lonics, then it's definitely worthy of my attention.

Omg, I am so grossed out right now.

Do you know what I'm doing right now?

I'll tell you what I'm doing right now.

It's 1:30 a.m. on a Sunday night and I am eating a supermarket brand cookie that does a damn good impression of a Thin Mint and writing a review of horrible horror flic for which I will receive $10.

Yes, $10.

This is journalism-karma for Malta.

At the same time, it's amazing what I'll do for someone whose e-mail address ends in @latimes.com. Not that this is actually for the L.A. Times. Just a community newspaper owned by the L.A. Times, which is owned by the famously tight-wadded Tribune Corp. In the words of the editor who assigned my story, the pay is "pathetic."

When the fee discussion is accompanied by an abject apology, you know you're in the wrong business. Even making the laughable assumption that my time is worth nothing (hah!), I stand to make $2.25. That's less than one half cent per word.

I wish I hadn't done that calculation.

This editor better talk me up something good to influential editors at the real L.A. Times.

It's not really their fault, I suppose, that I had to waste 107 minutes of my Sunday watching people hack up mutants with pickaxes and flag poles and baseball bats. I chose it on purpose, because I figured if I was going to be taking notes during a movie it might as well be a crappy one. And I thought maybe I'd be pleasantly surprised. By a horror film. Ok I don't know what the hell I was thinking. Because I can really honestly say that seeing the movie was a complete and utter waste of time I could have spent taking in some much-needed Vitamin D. Can I get worker's comp if I get Rickets because I'm too over-worked to ever leave my apartment (except to go to Malta)?

Someone told me that I sounded "over-worked" in a message I left on their voicemail. Which worried me. Do I sound over-worked? Do I sound like I'm losing it? There better be worker's comp for that too.

I was going to tell you about how I have writer's block (also known as Obsessive Complusive Procrastination Disorder), but it's never interesting to read writers writing about writer's block. I think the problem is that I'm paranoid that I'm going to get the facts wrong because I can't remember exactly when the gurgley breathing noises accompanied the action and whether whatsisname was hacked with a pickaxe or a screwdriver or some other grim tool. Can't they give a writer a damn DVD? I wouldn't sell it to distributors in China, I swear. Unless, of course, there was money to be made off of it. HaHA! That's what you get for paying writers Chinese wages, suckaz!

Oh god, my writing is cheaper than a quarter pounder with fries. What have I come to?

Speaking of food, guess what else the editor also offered to let me write?

A "cheap eats" column.

Yes, that is an American flag in the lower left-hand corner. That particular reveler was one of two Maltese girls dressed as American soldiers for Carnival, although I doubt real soldiers wear shorts quite that short (they're under the flag somewhere). Speaking of, it's probably like a felony to use the flag as part of a Carnival costume in the U.S., but hey, if there's one thing to like about the Maltese, it's that they like us. Another thing is the fact that they speak English. Now if only they had Starbucks they would be perfect!

By the way, there is a float coming through the historic gate of Valletta, the capital city. That's what the picture is actually of, but given that my camera batteries went out every three pictures, I wasn't at libery to get a better shot. So suck it up already and praise my innate photojournalistic skilz for accidentally getting a half-clothed American soldier in the shot as well!!

But first!

These are known as pregnant windows. They even come in different sizes - the smallest bumps are 3 months pregnant. Midsize (pictured here) are 6 months. Largest are 9 months! Ingenious.

Also, guess how to pronounce this Maltese word: qaghaq.

No really, guess!

Come on!

Don't skip down.

Sheesh. Ok. Cheater.

"Ah."

Thank god they speak English.

But hey, a journalist's gotta eat!

Maltese tomatoes are excellent, by the way.

In case you think all I was doing was waltzing from four-course meal to four-course meal (which is more challenging than you would think by the way), look in the upper right hand corner of the picture. Yeah, do you usually take notes when you go out to a five-star restaurant? SO STOP ACTING LIKE I WAS ON VACATION!

Pictures of boat tour, karnival and cathedral next!

Powdered sugar-dusted fruit? Moet? Yes please.

Don't you wish you worked in an industry where prevailing wages are 6 cents a word?

What, you want to see the view from my other balcony? My, you are a glutton for punishment!

Ok fine, I cropped out the parking lot.

This was the view from my right balcony (not to be confused with the other uber-fabulous and envy-inspiring balcony on the left).

This is an exclusive action shot of the three minutes of sun in Malta this past week.

Now, I don't mean to complain, but:

(1) It so rarely gets cold in Malta that they don't have a word for "hail," which it did half the time I was there.

And you think the historic structures that cover the island are charming until you realize that

(2) 12th century buildings don't have central heating. Nor do the Maltese seem to have discovered space heaters.

Brrr.

Nonetheless: gorgeous.

And do you know what's even cooler than me going to a press trip to Malta and potentially finding time to blog about it?

Me going on a press trip to Malta and potentially finding time to blog about the fact that I'LL BE THERE DURING CARNIVAL!!!

How much do you wish you wrote for a third-rate trade publication for an industry nobody's ever yeard of NOW, bizatch?!

Ok, I finally got it. Know what's cooler than Vanity Fair? Me! Going on a press trip! To Malta!

Hell yeah.

It's about time I got a frickin perquisite around here.

And know what's even cooler than me spending a week at a five-star resort? The fact that I may find time to help you vicariously enjoy my adventure! Maybe. If I'm not too busy getting tan lines in the balmy 11-degree weather. Celsius of course. It's funny how Celsius always sounds wickedly cold.

...

Oh wait. That's 51.8 degrees F. That is cold!

Heh. Well. I'm sure it'll warm up in the next two weeks. If it knows what's good for it.