paleo And The Quest For The Holy Papaciness

For Cardinal paleo, life is nothing if not complications. The Real Popehoodness™, my life's ambition, is being thwarted, no white smoke, no dancing in the street, just calls from Immigration and Customs Enforcement, wondering about my background.The questioning was ferocious, particularly when they learned that I was into adults.

I suspect it was the doing of that Cardinal Scalia, Diocese of Opus Dei C. Bitch has been jealous since the day we wore the same cossack to Timmy's to-do, I was a-dorable, he, well, didn't really pull it off. At all. (Hag.)

I.C.E. eventually turned me loose, I mean, I like to arriviste fashionably late, but the conclave was locked and I had to berate a footman to get a damn cup of espresso, much less let in the door, they took my stylish man-bag and found my back-up Blackberry (I am sooo naughty...), so no tweeting, sorry my loves.

Trouble, trouble, trouble. And now Archcardinal Mahony is doing his lip-sync routine to the CHANT! album, attention whore. Poo.

I'll update when I can, once some of the older conclavists get into the Mogen David it will be easier to get some privacy.

Delirium Tremens, ta-ta!