Paris: A little catch-up

Are you wondering why I've been in Paris for 3 months without blogging once? You wouldn't be alone. I've had some queries. Granted, no one "reads" this blog any more than one might "keep an eye on" Haley's comet or "track" bigfoot. Still. It seems, if you know me, like there's somethin' exciting happening and I'm not spilling to Beans.

So even though I don't believe in a correlation between life lived and life blogged about, here are some tidbits.

1. I live above a Subway. Not the means of transportation, the means of Fake Bread Waft. The Fake Bread Waft in France is identical to the one in America. It's sweet and nasty and comes at a very powerful waft, like a red-bell-pepper fart by a great dane.

2. Speaking of Danes, Amsterdam is my new favorite place (a 4 hour train from Paris) and NO, not because of the whores and drugs. But not despite them either.

The Dutch make a great, simple mint tea.


and a world-class stoned retard.

3. The Ferris wheel in Paris, in the jardin de Luxembourg, cycles slowly for 20 minutes, goes really high, and is, despite being jammed in a weird makeshift carnival, awesome. This is how I felt about it:




4. Paris hates people over 26. Everything is cheaper if you are "moins de 26 ans." Under 26. But if you, like me, have lacked the vigilance to keep yourself from creeping all the way into 27, well then, Missy, you are going to have to pay twice the price for that museum admission. This may seem like small beans, but at the SNCF, a train ticket that ran my 25 year old infant boyfriend 50 Euro ran me over 100. Keep the olds from traveling! Those creaky 27-year-olds will stink up the train with Jergens lotion and death!

Just waiting for a French bureaucrat to come riddle them with bullets.

Often, student IDs and student discounts will not be extended to us over-26s. "You may still be a student at 27," they seem to say, "but that's your fault." If you are still enrolled in some sort of graduate program at 27, attempting to chisel knowledge into the petrified sap of your mind, you deserve no more public support than a grown man who insists on diapers.

"I'm just really busy"

5. Olympic commentators on French TV say "Oooh la la" a lot. It's great when you're watching something like Judo or Weight Lifting, something really brutish and grunty where one 400-lb Ajerbijanian lifts something heavy and three French commentators trill out three OVERLAPPING, fugue-like "Ooh lalalallalal ooohlalalala OH LA, LALALALA."

Bobbe Costasse, in today for Franque Gifforde.


Get hungry for a food post at some point.