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"Being too charming was never one of my faults." - Kill Me Later
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Who knew?
Proofing my rm's part of the paper and apparently Morgan Stanley is "Morgan Standley." Goldman Sachs? "Goldman and Sachs." But best of all, you no longer launch an IPO, you "lunch" an IPO. And no, these are not just typos because they were used repeatedly throughout the paper. Ah. I need to quit being so mean but after four months I'm at my wits end and exploding with stories to share with you. Labels: Annoyances, Heehee, Stupidity and Ignorance
My heart started to hurt on Sunday night. And, no, I don't mean in some metaphorical, "my heart is breaking" way, I mean that I was having awful, stabbing chest pain and I seriously thought I was in the throes of heart failure or something along those lines. Even though it really didn't feel like heartburn (the pain was very localized and too high in my chest) I convinced myself it was most likely just heartburn and went to bed thinking it would be gone by morning. No such luck. I woke up with the same stabbing in my chest and by dinnertime I was a little bit scared that I was going to, oh, I don't know, die? But I went out to Le Petite Marche with Joe, Joe's mom and aunt and Poon anyway (I can't resist those damn passion fruit creme brulee's). Two (okay, maybe three...or four) glasses of red wine later? Chest pain gone. And not just because I was drunk because, really, I wasn't that drunk and besides it's still gone and I'm certainly not drunk anymore. So all that "red wine is good for your heart" isn't just a load of hooey. My new theory is that my heart was missing red wine because I hadn't had any since my single glass at Louis Vins last Wednesday (five whole days ago) and it was DEMANDING that it be given some. Because you know, red wine nourishes your heart and all that good stuff. And here in France where wine is literally cheaper than soda, my heart has gotten quite accustomed to, uh, being "nourished" on a regular basis. Labels: Bon Appetite, France, Heehee
Monday, April 16, 2007
A conversation I had last night reminded me of this hilarious (and true) song from Avenue Q (best Broadway musical ever). Also hilarious? The Internet Is For Porn. Seriously if you haven't seen Avenue Q yet, go! Immediately! Labels: Heehee
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Inspired by some expat blogs I started reading tonight, I've decided that I should probably write more frequently about my experiences here in France. A lot of strange/funny things happen to you when you are an American who lives in France but who speaks very little French beyond "Merci" "Bonjour" and "Je ne parle pas Francais" (I don't speak French). My roommates and I have done quite a few stupid things since we arrived. For one thing we took the train from Rambuteau to Chatelet for a solid two weeks. If you're not familiar with the Paris metros this may not sound stupid to you, but just wait, I'll explain. Being from California we're entirely unaccustomed to walking and tend to automatically assume that everything must be far apart. And, walk? Are you crazy?! So for the first two weeks of class we would walk the two blocks to the Rambuteau station, hop on the line 11, get off two stops later at Chatelet and then walk through a maze of underground tunnels, like rats, until we reached the platform for the RER A. We did this despite the fact that our French friends kept insisting we lived "really close" to Chatelet. Try walking one time! they told us. We kept saying we would but then when it came down to it we all figured it would be some kind of long, arduous journey and one of us would say screw it lets just take the 11 and the rest of us would happily agree. Finally one day we decided to check out the "soldes" (sales, which happens to be a word the French are only allowed to use twice a year, a story for another time) at the Chatelet mall. As per usual we hopped on the train at Rambuteau. Instead of walking through the underground labyrinth, though, we emerged from the Chatelet station unsure of exactly where the mall was. We wandered for a bit and then things started to look familiar and we realized that Chatelet was all of about 6 blocks from our apartment. Yes, for two entire weeks we'd been riding the line 11 to a point that was actually beyond the RER A platform and then walking back through tunnels (which reeked of month-old urine) to the RER A. Basically, the same distance to walk directly from our apartment to Chatelet. We're not in a Master's program for nothin' you know.
It was a very musical day in the metro today. First there was the guy playing an Asian instrument as we waited for line 8. Then there was the other guy playing the guitar on the 8. Then there was the band at Republique (walking to line 8, later in the day). And then finally...the "coup de grace" (cherry on top) our final metro ride of the night where there were some Eastern European teenagers rapping (in some Eastern European language) to Stunt 101 by G-Unit. And doing some rendition of a stripper-pole dance. And gyrating in this one poor girl's face. And showing off their skinny "muscles." Before going through the train asking for money. The white-haired lady a few rows down did not look amused. Ah, Paris, you never cease to entertain.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
I think I've alluded to the fact that, at least to me, living in France is like living in another dimension. One that is sort of similar to the US except that the whole country has lost its collective ability to reason, and the men are soft and womanly. Even the cops. And the "thugs" carry pink (yes, bright pink) razor phones and wear pink (emphasis: pink) LV baseball caps. Everything I thought about Frenchmen before I lived in France...well let's just say now I have concrete examples of why I believe what I believe about them. Hm, I was all set to write out a long post about this with lots of side-splitting examples but I think I'll have to save it for some other time. I just haven't been feeling *it* lately (whatever it is that makes me want to blog). Au revoir, a demain perhaps?
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