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"Being too charming was never one of my faults." - Kill Me Later
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Bonjour, good morning, and all that jazz
So my apartment-mates have discovered that I? Suck at being a girl. The other day Joe and I were in a Sephora looking at this white pencil. His first instinct? To draw on my cheek. My first instinct? To draw on his hand. Then we realized it was a "nail pencil" (huh?) and started coloring on our nails. It didn't look very pretty but neither of us could figure out what the hell a nail pencil is for. (What IS it for?). That was when he concluded that we both make crappy girls. Also, there are some massive sales going on here in Paris right now (weird Frenchie fact of the day: there is actually an honest-to-God LAW about when French stores can and can't use the word "sale" - they can only use it twice a year when the whole country goes on sale in January and in June) and I desperately need sweaters as I only brought one (and a half if you count the three-quarters sleeve sweater as a half) and it's now literally freezing...but every time I step into the mall or a store I start to feel uncomfortably warm and a little voice in my head starts shrieking "Get me the hell out of here." I've never been one of those girls who loves shopping but I especially hate it when I'm wearing 3 layers of clothing, plus a scarf, hat, gloves and earmuffs - all of which I have to hold while I try to dig through racks of clothing in a very mob-like environment. Shudder. (I'm parentheses-happy today). I think I'm supposed to go clubbing again tonight to celebrate Younnes' birthday (who's birthday dinner I already flaked on) but it's so frickin' cold outside and my joints feel like they may just be on the verge of rebelling...plus I was looking at one of my friend's clubbing pictures and I realized that this is another way in which I suck at being a girl. I hate dressing up. I hate putting on makeup. I hate being touched by sweaty strangers. I hate getting hit on (okay, that's a lie, it is a bit flattering, but I still don't like being touched). And in France-land I hate the unrelenting cloud of cigarette smoke and the fact that I have class tomorrow morning (Saturday). Okay, so maybe the last few things don't make me a sucky girl, but I'm under the impression that usually girls like to get all gussied up and spend a night on the town. Me? I'd much rather be at home in some jammy pants ("How do you get into your pj's so fast?" - Joe, after seeing me in pj pants two minutes after getting home from school), rockin' my eyeglasses, hair in a sloppy ponytail, drinking Orangina and watching WWII documentaries. Or Scrubs. Whatever.
Comments:
i think those observations are superficially feminine, and not trully effeminite.
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