le depart

I have a lot of little funny things to discuss. I didn’t do anything major. Actually I just lied. Yesterday, Madame et moi, we went to Montmarte. I literally spent the whole day with her. HAHAHAH it was ridiculous. First of all, she is tiny like a pocket pal. It takes her twice as long to get anywhere, because her legs are so short. Secondly, she never stops talking. She seems to be the expert on most things, and she loves to tell me really long complicated stories. She doesn’t even tell stories as much as just giving me a lecture on various topics. It’s endearing and good for practicing French, but it’s also fatiguing. My brain felt like it was on fire. Girlfriend has a digital camera but decided to buy a disposable one. Insane. We walked all around the hill, and then we stopped to get lunch in a little place. It was really sunny and nice outside, so we sat outside. I had to pee, naturally, so I went inside to use la toilette. First of all, French restaurants are tiny and packed. I’m already a giant in normal sized places, but I look like fucking Andre the Giant squeezing through a mouse hole getting around these places. It doesn’t help that I lack any sort of grace in movement. I’m like a drunk bull in a china shop all the time. Well there was a line for the bathroom composed of only women. Just my luck. I don’t know what the fuck women do in the bathroom, but it takes them a million fucking years to do their business. Literally. I don’t comprehend. You take your pants off. You sit down. You let fly. You clean up. You put pants on. You wash your hands while simultaneously doing a face check. YOU LEAVE. That should take no more than one minute. Two minutes tops. These two women ahead of me took combined almost twenty minutes. WTF. WTF ARE YOU DOING IN THERE. I know they didn’t take a dump for obvious reasons. Did you fall in? Do you have to remove your chastity belt before you pee? I just don’t get it. So I’m waiting in this tiny cramped space for these women to finish up, and to make it better, the waiter breaks a glass. He’s maneuvering all around trying to clean up while I navigate the hallway avoiding him. It was a disaster. Plus there was a little shit of a kid running around touching himself and then everything else. If you ever needed a reason to NOT eat out…Moving on. So there are lots of pretty people here. It’s depressing. Also, they’re well dressed. BITCHES. The worst part is that they’re so blasé about it all. They’re like oh why yes I’m hot and fabulous but look at me wearing this scarf so nonchalantly around my neck with my perfectly messy hair. Fuck. You. The only thing that makes me feel better is that they’re all so fucking small. I’ll be like oh look at this wonderfully gangly glasses wearing French boy with cuffed pants, and then I realize that he is probably no more than 5’5”. HA! GOTCHA! I started to laugh, because then I remembered the surgeon man (for those of you who know the story) was a midget. I was loling on the metro. He probably only came up to my shoulder. Granted, I have a big head. The old people are fabulous too. They are so amazing. They drive around in vintage mini coopers wearing fabulous duds with brooches and scarves. There was one on the metro back from Montmarte who gave me a little speech about how much she hates technology. She was essentially bitching out the teenage girl sitting right next to her who had headphones in. The many withering stares only underlined her hatred. It was hilarious. Fashion tip: all the boys are wearing blue shoes… do with that as you will. Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure Papa Hoge already has two pairs. Madame and I sat down for some coffee, and it was the time of day where parents were picking up their kids from school. I then got creeped on in the worst way. This guy walked by and did that creepy oh yes I like you smile with the up and down with the eyes. Mind you I was wearing what is basically a waxed tent, and I had some awesome frizz going on in the weave-did. In other words, I looked good. Then I see his DAUGHTER walking behind him. In the words of Momma Kim, Wat da hell!!!??!?!? It’s one thing to make eyes at me being gross, but it’s a totally different thing to do it while you’re toting your 6 year old around behind you. Go. Away. Forever. After our coffee, we boarded the bus to get back to Chinatown. I got so lucky. There was the most fabulous/dramatic fairy queen I’ve EVER seen. He was a)pretty b)sassy c)dramatic. His blonde hair and perfect skin were set off by the fact that he was giving the WORST bitch face to EVERYTHING. At one point he was glaring at something, bared his perfectly white teefies in a snarl and he took his finger and scraped around. Then he gave the best, most disparaging eye roll I’ve ever seen. It was straight out of Bring it On or some shit like that. I was dying…internally of course. I didn’t want the wrath of Peter Pan to come raining down on my tent, waxed or not. It’s impossible to describe just how much of a caricature he was. Today I did my shopping. The parentals had placed orders to me for various luxury goods. I was going around Rue St. Honoré with bags of nice things looking like a hobo. By American standards I probably looked fine, but Parisians (especially in that area of the quartier) are a little bit fancy pants. The old fabulous people were probably wondering who this street rat was stealing shit. I had to meet Madame for a movie on Rue Mouffetard, so I really only had time to pick up everything then get to the theater. I took a break to eat a quick lunch in a small park not far by. There was a guy with his dog. Super exciting I know, but just wait. The dog was running around everywhere pissing and shitting like dogs tend to do. However, the guy then told his dog to get on the edge of the fountain, and then he pushed it in! It was so sad. I think he was trying to rinse the shit and piss off of its fur, but it was cold outside. The dog was so deprimée. I understand the concept of having a clean pet, but it’s a fucking dog. They will always have crap all over them. Unless of course you’re rocking some frou frou rat dog who never touches the ground. At the movie theater we saw a film called “Intouchables”. I’m not going to tell you the story, because you can look it up online. However, Madame had sat down at the end of a row, and I left my bags with her to go to the wiz palace. When I came back, the row was full. Unlike normal human beings who would get up so that I could sit down, the sassy bitches of old people sitting down just looked at me like I was crazy. They just sat there. Then they told me to go around and squeeze by the wall to sit down. There was less than a foot of space to get by. I also have a fat ass. I looked so fucking dumb. Bitches…So I fell asleep last night after packing, because I was tired and drunk. I leave today. So sad. Madame hinted that she would like me to stay, and believe me I would prefer that to returning to whatever fresh hell awaits in Thrilliamsburg. Alas, I think my parents would shit themselves if I jumped ship. I must come back to the stink of the RER, and I must board the damn plane.  First, I have to convince myself to get my bum off the pull out couch and get in the showshow. Ok. VAS-Y!!!!!!!!!!!!

p.s. I read somewhere that donkey meat is called poopy. HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA

the usual

I decided not to post yesterday, because I didn’t really do anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t get the fuck out of bed in the morning. I’M IN MOTHALICKING PARIS, but I still don’t leave the house until around noon. I spent all of yesterday at the Louvre. I’ve been there enough that you would think I remembered the layout. That place is a fucking maze. I was lost in the painters of the Netherlands section for an hour. A FUCKING HOUR. I COULDN’T GET OUT. By the time I got out I had to take a break, because I had been walking in circles for so long. By the way…when going to a museum make sure you wear quiet slip-proof shoes. For the quiet part, I was tromping around in my boots like Tyra Banks/a peasant making so much noise. The Louvre is surprisingly quiet in the galleries, which I became painfully aware of as the bitchy guards stared at me. They really are sons of bitches. The meanest people ever. I didn’t want to take pictures of a million things I already have pictures of, so I took pictures of ridiculous things. Look for an album soon. Highlights include sassy dead people and the fattest man ever. So many gems. The highlight of my day was seeing a female version of Kim Jong Il. I kid you not this woman was the scariest/best dressed person I’ve ever seen. I almost died laughing in the Italian painters hall. I loved her. After the Louvre I realized that I was mothalicking starving so I made the trek to get falafel in the Marais. I just couldn’t hold out anymore. Too bad it was pouring when I got out of the metro. Still got my falafel. I did, however, eat it in a doorway looking like a hobo gypsy woman with my scarf around my head. All the trendy gays and their fashion hags looked at me like I was trash. And maybe I was, but that falafel was worth being trashy. Speaking of trashy, I just ate an entire thing of tabouli and I’m cracking open the Pringles. CHEERS KATE! (what makes them taste better here? I have those granola chocolate cookies for later in my luxury pull out couch). Today was very much the same. It was beautiful outside, so I walked through the Latin Quarter all the way to the Tuileries. It’s a really easy walk, and I love doing it. I sat outside reading my book. I hope to finish it in time to have lengthy discussion with Ray about it. It was sunny, but it was still cold as balls. When I stood up I thought my ankles were going to snap in half. AGH ALMOST FORGOT. Before I got there I stopped and got a sandwich from my favorite lady. She’s the cutest woman ever, but I don’t think she remembers me. Triste. She has the best baguette sandwiches with sun-dried tomatoes, mozzarella, AND feta. GET OUTTA HERE! Plus you get a drink and any dessert all for only five euro. That is insane. So I ate that while I read my book. I looked so native. Except Parisians somehow still manage to look somewhat classy as they eat baguettes. I just look like I’m deep-throating it.  Anyways, I went to Musée D’Orsay afterwards and walked around. They finished the renovations, so the whole thing was open. I forgot how huge it is. It is also here that I learned to not have slippery shoes. The marble floor was almost the death of me, and my boots have no traction. I did that awkward slip yelp thing about a million times. Humiliation. That just made me realize what a sketch ball I look like to people. I’m just this creepy gargantuan person walking around in a trench coat looking crazy. I keep having memory flashback when I’m walking, and then I realize that I’m smiling/laughing to myself. WEIRD. Anyways, I told Madame last night that I’d like to see Alix and go to dinner with her. It’s now evolved into a day on the town with her. I think we’re going to Montmarte for some lunch, then we will pick up Alix from school. She also wanted to go to a play. Love Madame, but it’s a little bit out of control. She did discuss the inability of French people to dance today. She suggested drinking something to loosen up. Such a wise woman. I was so tired after the museum, so I sat for a long time staring at my Paris Pratique deciding the fastest way to get home with the least amount of walking. I was starving, so I stopped at Monoprix to get a snack on the way home. The lines there were so freaking long that I just left without buying anything. Another instance of me looking like a sketchball. I went to Ed instead. HATE THAT PLACE. It is the most disgusting and ghetto grocery store ever. There was this insane woman who was just talking to herself but also to everyone about everything. I had to get the FACK out of there. Also, of course they only have the mint tabouli. So annoying. One last thought: I saw men jogging in cargo shorts. J’ADORE PARIS!

Also, does this kind of freak anyone else out?: 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2111298/Meet-Indian-couple-children-set-new-record--worlds-biggest-ALBINO-family.html

the return

So I am back. Getting here was a wee bit of a nightmare though. On the flight over I sat next to an elderly (I think Korean) man. He not only took about ten minutes to sit down, therefore blocking the whole plane trying to board, but he also took over the whole goddamn arm rest. I don’t mean he took the armrest and left me to my seat. He jutted his fucking elbow out so that I was basically hanging over the edge of the aisle in danger of being taken out by bitchy stewardesses with their carts of pig slop. I was in such a bad mood that I couldn’t sleep the whole way. The one nice thing I will say about him is that he FUCKING FARTED THE WHOLE FLIGHT. No nice things. Only hate. On the plus side I watched three movies: Cedar Rapids, Moneyball, and Sideways. Cedar Rapids was a little disappointing. Basically everything funny was in the trailer. Moneyball was really boring. It was the slowest sports movie I’ve ever watched. Sideways was a little more depressing than I remember it being. However, the argument over ordering merlot was still just as funny. Wow, sorry for that really boring movie review, but I’m too lazy to go back and delete it. NO! WE MOVE FORWARD ONLY! (shout out to my companions in space). Getting through customs was a breeze. Side note, I just devoured a thing of tabouli (poulet grillé DUHHH). It’s just as good as I remember. Anyways, so baggage claim was a carnival of freaks. My favorite was the bootylicious woman wearing her juicy across the ass sweat suit. Also, her hair was so nasty. It looked like one of those Halloween witches wigs that get all tangled and disgusting. Then she turned around and I swear to God I thought I was staring at the cat lady (Jocelyn whats-her-face). I had some problems getting on the RER. I thought that I could change money at the RER station, but I forgot that there is nothing but a Relay and ticket machines that don’t take American credit cards. That is one thing I wish we would catch up on. Can we just get those damn chips in our cards so that we can use them abroad!?!?!? I swear every other country I’ve been to has those. I had to get back on the tram and find a money exchange. It’s always startling changing money, because you get back so little. It’s sad. Also, euros are so small you feel like you have NOTHING in your pocket. MONOPOLY MONEY! When I got on the RER it was like coming home to an old friend. I forgot how ugly and gross it is. I also got lucky enough to sit in the car with a woman who had a box of what had to be rotting fish, because it smelled so badly. Then of course the dopey Asian tourist girl sits RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I don’t understand people’s perception of available space. Literally, the whole entire car is open and she sits next to me. The ride was nostalgic, hitting all my old stops. As soon as we got to Châtelet, the waft of that sickly sweet cheap cologne that every greasy street rat in Paris seems to wear hit my nose. I knew I was home. HA! When I got to Madame’s finally, I realized that I had technically told her I would be arriving YESTERDAY. I’m an idiot, and I didn’t account for the time change. WOOPS! Thankfully she was home (I think I woke her up), and super lucky, Demitrii was here too! HAHAHAHAHAH. Also, he was sleeping in my bed….awk. I literally fell asleep and didn’t wake up again until 4pm. Pathetic. So my first day in Paris has been spent in CDG, the RER, and bed. I did just leave to find an Internet café to send the Big Kimchee and P.master Hoge. I obvi had to stop at Monoprix to get food, because I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Which is how we get back to the huge thing of tabouli. YAY IT MAKES SENSE! I also bought myself a bottle of the finest 1euro vintage to stun myself into 8 more hours of sleep tonight. Plan is to wake up TRET TÔT and hit the musées! Another side note: I started reading the actual Hunger Games (not just my sad version of fat girl games in Sadler) and I am NERDING OUT. I bought the first one to read on the plane, but I finished it that night. I bought the second one at Hudson News for TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS. That’s so many drinks….if you’re drinking Rainier. BUT STILL SO MANY DRINKS! I didn’t let myself buy the third one, but now I wish I had. The second one barely got me to Philly. I have the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo to read now, but it is going very slowly. Rachel likes it though, so I’m trying to read it. Four years together…you wouldn’t believe how quickly you run out of things to talk about. Speaking of four, I had a four-hour dinner with Madame. Topics this evening ranged from the horrendous tranny Barbie doll who lived with her last semester to fortified medieval castles in France. Typical evening. I’m dying from exhaustion even though I’ve only been up for a few hours. I’m a fucking sloth. Sloth woman out.