Homesick

You never know how much you like something until it's gone. This trip has really made me realize how much I value the presence of Ramen in my live. It's price, it's varieties, it's easy preparation...Recently I came to the conclusion that I can't live without it. I went to two supermarkets by my house to find it, but it wasn't there. I choked back tears as I searched the aisles desperately again and again. A few days passed and I had nearly given up hope when I heard that it could be found in the Carrefour. I put on my tennis shoes and set out on a one hour walking expedition to the store. I went through neighborhoods rich and poor before reaching the store. I eventually found it, but the store was bigger than WalMart. It seemed impossible, going through every aisle it could be in (food in bulk, pasta, easy preparation) before I blindly stumbled upon Asian specialty. The walk home was marked by anticipation, and when I came home to prepare the Ramen in just 3 minutes! I was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. Yum.

Eze/Easy E

I went to a little village called Eze over the weekend. If you say all the letters in the name, it sounds like Easy E. There's a perfume factory there with a free tour. I learned some things there, like did you know that smelling perfume is a special job and only 150 people in the world do it? They aren't allowed to drink or smoke, and they go to school for ten years to train. There are only three schools in the world. They are called "noses" when they graduate. Also, aluminum is better to hold perfume in because it keeps the fragrance longer. And perfume is stronger than eau de parfum, which is stronger than eau de toilette. They gave us a little quiz where we matched the scent to the picture, and I'm pretty sure being a nose is not in my future because I thought the rose was vanilla. The tour ended with a high-pressure sales pitch for kind of pricey bottles in a sales room. I pretended to think about it as I walked around the room and smelled different things while making thinking faces, and then as soon as the sales girl wasn't looking I made a dash for it. Classy.

I made a real joke in French, but Cybelle didn't think it was funny. She was singing this little song in French about having a bad memory and she couldn't remember the words, so I was like 'you really do have a bad memory!' That's funny, right? I just got a little condescending smile.

This is something you just don't see back home

Here are some things that are unique to Europe:

1. Mullets. They're back! Only for men.
2. White pants on guys with huge flashy belt buckles.
3. Tiny dogs everywhere.
4. "Hot Stuff" in every pub all the time. And then in my head. Lookin' for some HOT STUFF baby this evening. I need some HOT STUFF baby tonight. Looking for some HOT STUFF baby this evening. Gotta find some hot stuff, gotta find some LOVE tonight.
5. More expensive to eat at the place than to take stuff to go. So usually I end up sitting next to the same homeless guy on the steps for lunch.

Yep. That's how it is out here.

Doggies!

The French obviously don't understand reality TV. I was watching this show called Secret Story, which is pretty awesome conceptually. There's a list of secrets, and one is true of every person in the house. The members of the house have to guard their secret and figure out the other people's secrets, and the winner gets a lot of money. The problem is that the secrets are not juicy at all. There's a girl with a twin, a guy who likes to break dance...completely banal. The supposedly scandalous one is a guy who thinks he saw a UFO. It was kind of cute though, because one of the challenges was that they brought in this guy's dog to be the house dog and he had to act like it wasn't his. Of course the little dog ran right to him though, so everyone figured it out.
I think I might be equally or more happy raising puppies instead of children. They don't have a rebellious phase or go to college, and they aren't duplicitous enough to understand the concept of reality TV.

"Adventure"

On Sunday night I was sick. Not dying sick, but fever-y and headache sick. I was basically wallowing in self-pity all day and then I called B to complain. I ran out of money on my phonecard, so I went to the store to try to buy another one. I walked all the way there and went to the counter only to realize I was one euro short. That's like being fifty cents short in the US in terms of how far a euro gets you. The guy wouldn't just give it to me, so I walked down the street asking for a euro but no one would give me one. I'm not usually a weepy person, but I will admit that I sat down in the park and started bawling. Embarassing, especially because it was about five minutes before somebody tried to help me. This woman and her kids were talking to me, and I asked for a euro so I could buy a telephone card to call my parents. She asked if I had the money, and I told her it was at the house but I was sick. Given the situation, she thought it was best to go to the police. I thought it was kind of weird, but I went with her. I told the police officer at the station that I was sick and I just wanted to buy some Tylenol somewhere. She said she would take care of it and five minutes later an ambulance showed up with three guys. They jumped out and I explained I just have a fever, but they thought it was best if I came with them. Free healthcare, why not? So I rode in an ambulance to the hospital, it was kind of fun. The hospital was pretty typical; crazy people were yelling and stuff like that. I got some tylenol and left without paying anything. Awesome! They didn't even ask for ID. The doctor wanted to speak in English, but when I told him I was on Birth Control he asked "breath control!?" I didn't end up calling my parents, though.

The Real 'Survivor'

My french class is scary. Some kids got demoted the other day because they weren't good enough, and I'm afraid I'm next. I froze up the other day during this exercise where I was supposed to think of a question to the answer "because our house is right over there." My first response was "why don't you want to buy this house?" but the prof didn't like that answer, so we stared at each other for about a minute and then she gave me an answer that she thought was better. Hopefully I'll do well on the quiz today so I can keep my much-coveted place in French C20.

I'm Cybelle's favorite again! Right now there's me, D, two Russians V and E, and a Czech girl T. Cybelle doesn't like T because she drinks too much and she's a rebel. V and E are out of favor because they locked their room, and when Cybelle was lecturing them on it they rolled their eyes. D's in Paris for the weekend, which means that I'm number 1! No more complaining to everybody else about how I sleep until nine! Oh, yeeah.

I've been really sick of answering the same questions in the same way, so I started to change my answers. I told this drunk guy in the park that I was from London, which went over really well. Apparently I speak French with an English accent, so everybody thinks I'm British anyway. The same day I told these two French guys that I'm from Canada. Unfortunately I was not prepared for the series of questions that followed. "What province?" Uhh, Toronto? "How long from Toronto to Windsor?" It really depends... "Do you know Canterbury street in Toronto?" Oh, yeah, there's lots of stuff on that street. "What is the average summer temperature?" Umm, you know, it's hot, but not really hot. And it just kept going like that.

I have to go ace this test now.

Thanks For Nothing, Billy Blanks

I went out dancing on Friday with my friends and this guy kept grabbing my butt. After a couple of times of craftily dancing away I turned around and slapped him in the face. I've never slapped anyone, and I have to say that I think everybody should try it at least once because it feels pretty gratifying. My sense of strength increased enormously afterwards, and so when ten minutes later some huge guy on the street grabbed me I thought I could take him no problem. I tried to hit him but he grabbed my arm like he was going to break it. Thank God my friend Spoon was around to step in and help me. At that point I realized that hours of Billy Blanks and weight training mean nothing in the real world. Damn.

My Columbian friend A got mugged the same night. She was speaking English to a salesperson and two guys grabbed her bag from her. They were walking away and calling her a stupid American so she yelled that she's actually Columbian. They asked her to speak Spanish, and when they heard her they apologized and gave her back her stuff. And that's a true story.

Hmm, que mas? This guy helped me buy a sim card to prove to me as an American that arabs are nice. He got me a seven euro discount, which was pretty great. But then he told me that he wanted to destroy America. I wasn't really sure what to make of that.
The whole time he was talking to me about the hardships of his people, but then when a black girl walked by he said "those blacks are always dancing!"

I'm done with being from the States and studying Litterature. Today I told somebody that I'm from London studying law. I think I might stop being twenty, as well. And I need a new fake name. On Friday this guy asked me for the names of my friends and I, so I went around introducing them all with fake names. Then when I got to my Polish friend she told me "No, that's not my name!" Way to ruin it.

4th of July!!!!

Yesterday I learned that if you say "Je suis confusee" in French you're not saying that you're confused, you're saying you're sorry. I have been making that mistake for FUCK I JUST BROKE THE CAPS LOCK KEY. OH WELL ANYWAY I HAVE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR TWO YEARS AND NO ONE TOLD ME. Thanks, Macalester. I'm not sure how I fixed that.

I've been in this kind of awesomely easy class for the first two weeks, but this week I decided it's kind of ridiculous. So I asked to be moved up a level, but there aren't any spots in the Intermediate 1 or 2 classes. The only option was to go from Elementary 2 to Advanced, which is from 4 to 7 PM. I made the switch, which really upset Cybelle because it pushes dinner back fifteen minutes. My old class had assignments like "what do you want to do in ten years? I will buy a big house!" This class has assignments like "Discuss the rights of the disabled in your country of origin." Yikes! Plus the students are really serious, and they actually get stressed out about the tests and stuff like that. I miss the days of last week...

Cybelle cracks me up. My roommate D did the dishes last night because Cybelle wasn't home. Usually she doesn't let us, but she was out walking the dog. When she came back she realized D cleaned up, so she brought her into the kitchen and thanked her by complaining for eight minutes about how she does everything by herself. Maybe stop yelling every time one of us tries to help out?

I had the most ex-pat kind of 4th of July ever. It was basically just sitting on the beach with a bunch of Irish people and yelling "4th of July!" drunkenly at every passing American. Coincidentally there were some fireworks for Girabaldi's birthday but they were pretty half-assed.

The other day I was at the beach next to an English guy who thought I was French. He was asking me to watch his stuff in French and I talked back in French too. It was silly.

Paging Dr. Doogie Howser

I went to Subway today because my friends really wanted to go, and they were actually blasting techno. In the Subway, at lunch time. It was sooo European.

This guy at the bar yesterday told me he was an engineer for Mercedes. That was probably one of the ballsiest lies I've ever heard. It's not a French story, but one time I was at this lame club on 18-and-over night with some friends in early November. I was dancing with this guy who told me that he was celebrating because he had graduated med school tonight. On a Thursday night in November. And then when he found out I was nineteen he told me he was twenty. Nice.

I hate Sean Paul, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one. Every time a Sean Paul song comes on at a bar everyone surges the dance floor. It's like Mony Mony for my generation. I literally can't distinguish between his songs. I understand if he sucks at writing songs, I mean, I suck at physics. But I don't design airplanes, and similarly he shouldn't push his psuedo-reggae house rap on us.

Talk Like An Arab

Is what Cybelle said to me. And then she scrunched up her nose and smiled. Jesus.

I saw the most amazing museum today! There's a little gallery of Chagall's work up the road a while from my school. It's not as over-crowded as the other museums I've been to in Europe, and the work was beautiful. It was really inspiring because he basically re-interpreted all of the most famous biblical scenes in art. Instead of showing people as terrible and bestial they are colorful and vibrant, constantly searching. God and angels are generally blue and peaceful instead of fiery gold or red. The expulsion from paradise shows Adam and Eve not in agony, but looking forward hopefully. Conversely, paradise before the fall has somewhat foreboding creatures lurking in the background. The suggestion appears to be that the expulsion was inevitable, and rather than regret we should regard the future bravely. It was pretty sweet. I heard the adult tour in English and the kindergarten tour in French. In French: "Chagall loved to paint animals. Can you find the bird in this picture?" In English: "This is Chagall's interpretation of the Eiffel Tower. Can you see the Eiffel Tower?"

I'm putting myself on a budget. My goal is to be able to afford lunch for the entire time I'm here. So I need to start looking for cheap/free things to do besides lay out on the beach. I was kind of thinking that it wouldn't be that hard to be a street performer by night. I could just dress up like an astronaut or something, and then people could take their picture with me for donations. If you have any costume suggestions please let me know! There's already a mafia guy, a pirate, a guy who dresses up in flamboyant hats and sings Japanese ballads, a guy who plays Spanish guitar with a mask on, and a bunch of break dancers. So if you already had one of those ideas, too late.

As Seen On TV

Holy mother of God, I saw the most adorable commercial yesterday. So there's this little hedgehog, and he's in love with the dish sponge (the kind with the green top and the yellow sponge-y bottom). Then when the mom uses the dish sponge to clean the dishes, he's crying and hugging himself. But guess what happens next? It's reusable! So it comes back just the same, and the little hedgehog gets on top of it and humps it a few times before he snuggles up next to it and goes to sleep.

I also saw this avant garde absurdist film on public TV. And that's how I know I'm in France.

The Real Dance Dance Rexolution

I got the computer with the missing letter again, so I'm just going to substitute in x. For example, xalentine's day, xaporise, Xan Morrison.

First of all, exeryone should run to the theatre to see Persepolis. It's soooo good! The graphic noxel is amazing, and the moxie xersion doesn't disappoint. I'xe nexer seen anything like it before outside of short films. I'm not sure if it's out in the States yet, but if it is you haxe to go. And if you see it and disagree, we're not friends anymore. Done.

I had a huge middle school moment recently. Our teacher asked us "what does a lazy person, who doesn't work, use their hands for?" And being the only person fluent in English in the class, it was basically irresistibe for me to mumble "masturbate?" and then snicker to myself. Then the teacher asked what, and I had to be like, nothing, giggle giggle. Oh, Jesus.

Last night I met some English speakers from my school to go drinking at this bar across the street. It's this little pub with two floors, and it was basically dead when we showed up. Exeryone was sitting at their own tables kind of looking around but not talking to strangers. My friend and I went downstairs and started dancing, and for a while we were the only ones. Then we stopped and there were some really awkward girls giggling self-consciously and half-dancing while looking around nerously. Lame. But then the next time my friend and I went up a few guys joined in, and oxer the course of about ten minutes the floor was packed. So yeah, we started a dance party. After a while I had to leaxe because it was so hot and the music was pretty bad, but right before I left this French guy came up to me and said in English "You are the best dancing of all the dancers!" Yeah, I know.

I think I met my soulmate. She's from Rio de Janeiro. When we were introducing ourselxes, she said she liked Nouxelle Xague cinema. Plus she shares my loxe of girl punk and disco lo-fi. We haxe a moxie date tomorrow! I think I sounded like a total jackass when introducing myself. I said I liked indie music and indie films. Then when asked what I didn't like I thought about it for about a minute while the class waited before coming up with 'green beans'. Good one!

Ewww, this morning I was getting a yogurt and Cybelle told me I had to eat the prune one or it would go bad. Not haxing the courage to express that it was nexer good, and that in the US prunes are for the constipated, I agreed. Yes, I ate prune yogurt. And I xomitted prune yogurt about two hours later.

On The Beach

A couple of days ago I was swimming around in the ocean when these french guys started talking to me. I couldn't understand what they were saying because of the waves, so I kept asking "what?" After a while I got out and so did they, and thinking that I didn't know French they had a conversation about me and my German friend right next to us. Basically they were trying to decide what to say to us, some of the contenders were "do you like to come to the beach?" "do you want to go out with us tonight?" and "do you want to meet us at the beach tomorrow?" Eventually they decided to talk to me:

Guy 1: Do you want to go swimming again?
Me: No, we just went swimming three minutes ago.
Guy 1: Oh, yeah, but we could go again.
Me: Umm, no thanks.
Guy 2: So, you're tanning.
Me: Yeah.
Guy 2: You need sunscreen.
Me: Yep, I just put some on.
Guy 2: Well, maybe we could help you and your friend put it on?
Me: No thanks.

Then they started talking about how I actually understand French but my friend doesn't, and I went to sleep. I was woken up by a pebble thrown at me.

Guy 1: I didn't do it!
Guy 2: Me neither!

So I shrugged and went back to sleep. Three minutes later:

Guy 3: It was me!

These guys were twenty-somethings. It's crazy.

It kind of hurts my feelings when I go out with my German friend and everyone hits on her but nobody hits on me. She's a model, and one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. But it kind of sucks to be the normal-looking sidekick. I want to be sexually harassed again!

I made three friends. Proud? The girl who is now living with me and two guys from another French class at school. Sweet!

I am that cute little euphemism, "hung over". I was drinking with some Australians last night, and they really hold their alcohol well. Or maybe they don't, I was too drunk to tell. Ouch! Never again.

Stereotypes and the French Dr. Phil

Overheard over the weekend: 1. A French person saying "Sacrebleu!" 2. A German person saying "Scheise!"

I saw another movie, this one was called American Vertigo. It was pretty bad. Plus it was advertised as English with French subtitles, but the majority of the movie was just a French narrator. The whole thing was footage of America with a French person talking about it. The highlight was Mall of America, which is apparently representative of the End of Civilization. Who knew?

Other than that, nothing much happened except that another girl showed up at the house and she seems pretty cool. My German friend and I went to the beach a couple of times, and I look like a lobster.

I've been watching plenty of French TV. My favorite show so far is this one where couples with problems are videotaped, and then they watch the videotape with a therapist who invariably asks: and what do you think of a person who (does whatever they're doing wrong)? There was one where this pregnant woman wouldn't let her husband look at other women, she even took away his mountain biking magazine because there were pictures of women in it. But then with the help of a therapist she became comfortable with his love for her and they went lingerie shopping. It was kind of cute. Then another one was about this guy who loved everything Country Western, and it drove his wife crazy. He had these confederate flags everywhere and big American eagle statues all over the house. That was hilarious, but he learned how to pay attention to his wife's needs. I also watch Scrubs and ER in French, awesome!

And now I will search for a nutella crepe.

Hating Children

Happy fete de la musique! There's this big thing in Europe for the next few days where there are tons of free concerts. And we're rapidly approaching the fete du cinema, which means three days of movie tickets for two-sixty USD. Why is there not one of these things in the US? I went to the Children's Choir last night; they sucked. It was supposed to be cute, but it was actually just annoying. The conductor had this whole thing set up where he came in acting very somber and then they march out banging on a freaking drum and singing out of tune. Hilarious. I was probably the only person there over the age of six but under the age of sixty.

Yesterday I went to H&M. I went there about two years ago and decided it sucked and hadn't gone back since. That was a huge mistake. I realized that it's actually really pretty sweet, and then when I was walking around later it became clear that everyone shops there. I found a lot of stuff that I swear I've seen at Urban for five times the price. Anyway, they have my endorsement and some money that was formerly mine.

I saw the new Tarantino movie, which apparently is called Death Proof in the US but here it's Boulevard de la Mort (Blvd. of the dead). When I was watching it I thought it really sucked, but I've been thinking about it more and now I'm not sure. Okay, so the dialogue is bad, the editing sucks, the acting is atrocious save for Kurt Russell, and the storyline is off. But it's obvious that it's intentional, and referential to the genre. Like Snakes on a Plane, the intent is to imitate a style and thus to comment on it. How post-modern! But on the other hand, there are elements of Tarantino. The music choices, the camera angles on the dance scenes as well as the nacho scene, the dialogue with Stuntman Mike and Butterfly, the black and white, and the Kill Bill references (the Acuna Boys cup and the cell phone ring) all mark it as a Tarantino film. And the fade from color to black and white is suggestive of the sudden change in color of an old television, which along with the film quality and the costumes and props further suggest the genre. So it's a mix. I didn't really think it was a good movie, but I guess I appreciate what he did.

I kind of like Cybelle. I mean, she's super racist and pretty crazy and she gossips a lot, but whatever. Her food is really good and she's really consistent about getting stuff done. Yesterday I tried to make a joke in French. It was real stupid. She was talking about her dog's teeth, and I said "you're a dentist for dogs!" and then she said "no, the word is 'veterinarian'". I let that one go.

And now I'm going to the beach. Jealous?

Je N'ai Pas d'Amis

Or, I don't have any friends. And it kind of sucks because I can't walk around by myself. Last night I went to see Shrek Le Troisieme and ran into three girls from my class while walking to the theatre. Embarassing. At least they didn't ask what I was going to see.
I think I'm getting better at French though, because the first time I saw the Persepolis trailer it was completely over my head and this time I understood almost all of it. Apparently it's the talk of Cannes, I'm pretty much counting the days until it comes out.

Cybelle and I had a talk about international relations, and it re-assured me that I have no backbone. I agreed to the following: 1. Muslims are dogmatically violent
2. Anyone who is not from France, England, or America is probably bad 3. The only okay religions are those that follow Jesus. I've been keeping up some lies pretty well, most notably that my family is strict Anglican and my parents are together. Also, my ancestors are all from France or England. I'm surprised she's not still pissed about the Hundred Years War. Maybe tonight we can talk about how miserly Jews are. We really need to find a solution for that one! Like, you know, a final solution.

I'd like to take this opportunity to disavow everyone of their romantic notions of the beaches in Nice. They are rocky and dirty. There's actually not any sand at all. And the only women who sunbathe topless are those over the age of fifty. I think I saw the saggiest boobs in the world yesterday.

It's kind of funny how Macalester French class set me up to be a typical Mac student here. I don't know words like fork or knife, but I do know a lot of vocabulary about globalization. Oh, Mac.

Bertha Antoinetta Mason Rochester

I need to write this without the letter after "u" because that key doesn't work.

I think that my host family is crazy. Reasons: 1. There is a sign on the door to their room with couches and films (you know what kind of room I am talking about) that reads the word which means "opposite of public" 2. The mom was changing the sheets last night for a bed that no one sleeps in 3. the son will not talk to me 4. the mom displays her wedding pictures with her husband obiously cropped out. Now I know how Jane Eyre felt. He's probably locked up in the so-called "spare bedroom".
Last night my German friend, the host mom and I ate dinner together. There has not been a time in my life prior to that when I felt so fat. They were congratulating each other on how skinny they are, and talking about fat Americans. The host mom gossiped about her former students all night; I wonder what she will say about me. This morning she told me to make sure I didn't use too much Nutella or I'll get fat.

Last night I took another shower, and despite trying to keep the water strictly inside the tub I managed to spray it upon the floor. I'm already pretty scared of this mom, so I used my own towel to mop. That was fine, but the bathmat was still wet. I tried to wrench the water out, and when that didn't work I took the mom's hairdryer and tried to blow-dry it. That worked for about six minutes but then the outlet stopped working, so I brought the mat to my room with the blowdryer and worked from there. After about fifteen minutes it became clear that it was impossible to do this, so I decided to let it air-dry for the night and get up before the mom so I could blow-dry again. I got up at six and decided it wasn't worth getting caught with the blow-dryer so I snuck the stuff back, but at six-thirty I changed my mind again and worked on it for thirty minutes at which point I heard the mom walking around. I decided I had no choice but to run for it, and with bath mat and blow-dryer in hand I collided with the mom. I swear, this is all true. The confrontation was kind of a letdown, the mat was still pretty wet and she told me I was the only person to make this mistake about nine times. Apparently you can't put the shower on strong. It's not so much a shower as it is a spongebath. Anyway, she didn't notice the hairdryer, so I brought it back to my room. I was so disoriented by the whole thing that I left for school an hour early thinking that I was late. When I realized my mistake I went back to the house, realizing I forgot to sneak back the blowdryer. Unfortunately, upon my return it became apparent that Cybelle had gone through my bureau in the ten minutes I was gone and taken the dryer back herself. I'm anticipating another lecture or four on that one, probably similar to those I got for putting my toothbrush in the bathroom.

I miss Minnesota for it's lack of sexual harassment. I'm really tired of not being able to walk alone without getting yelled at or grabbed at. It's hard to find a sense of comfortable solitude when men are constantly and openly staring at me. It isn't how I thought it would be; I guess I had a picture of myself like Daid Sedaris in his essays about Paris, quietly regarding the passage of people and time. Maybe I should cut my hair and buy some gay pride t-shirts.

Nice in Nice

Okay, that was my last Franglaise pun.
I got into Nice from Italy at about 4:00 PM yesterday, and found my way to the host family. The house is absolutely beautiful; hardwood floors, spacious kitchen, and a windows overlooking the fountains below. The woman hosting me is a super-stylish fifty-something named Cybelle with a little dog named Leo. She doesn't actually live upstairs with me, but her son (who I haven't met yet) does. Anyway, she's pretty chatty and she repeats herself a lot, which is good because sometimes I don't understand what she's saying.
After I put away my stuff, I asked to take a shower. Cybelle showed me everything, and told me not to put the shower hose on the holder, because water will spray everywhere. Unfortunately, I took her to mean that it's normal for water to spray everywhere when you shower, don't worry about it. She's pretty much a huge neat freak, so after that happened she really freaked out. She said she might start crying, and kept repeating to herself "pas grave, pas grave....Ahh, mon dieu!" (Not a big deal, oh my God!) It was pretty awful. I was relieved to watch cartoons until I fell asleep that night at about 8:30.
Today I got up and had some toast with Cybelle. We made small talk, which went pretty well. She's kind of adorable. We had a miscommunication where I thought she was using a word to mean boyfriend, but she meant friend. On her end it probably sounded like: "So, are you going to make friends?"
"No, I already have a friend."
"But you can make another friend."
"Umm, but I like him, and that doesn't really work..."
But we figured things out. Cybelle introduced me to another girl studying at a different school next door to mine who speaks almost no French and some English. So much for total immersion; we're having dinner tonight. She's twenty-two and German, already married to a boxer. We walked to school together while she smoked a cigarette and talked about how much she misses everything.
The school is pretty small, I tested this morning and was placed in a class. I'm not sure what level it is, but I checked the list and I'm with a bunch of Japanese people (and we all know how smart they are!)
I had to buy a brush, so I went to the Monoprix. I splurged on the 7 Euro brush, which would probably be four dollars in the US but who's counting? I guess I should be, but it's so depressing. This brush better last for the rest of my natural life. Another price comparison: I know it's bad, but I went to McDonalds for lunch. I really love the Chicken Mythic, and it's really hard to stop eating them. Anyway, the so-called value menu was 6 Euro. Roughly $7.80 US. Is that the same? I also had to get some pajamas that aren't (as my sister pointed out) completely transparent. I hit the mall and tried to shop at the C&A (basically the Sears of France with only clothes) but to no avail. Most of their pajamas were Snoopy-themed, and the nightgowns would only be appropriate for romantic evenings or retirement. I took it as a message that I was supposed to go to Etam Lingerie instead. I got a nightgown with a little parrot on it. I know it sounds stupid, but I really like it. 28 Euros well-spent, in my opinion. I also found a dress at this place called the Supermod, but I'm thinking about it.
I noticed that the American import stores (like the Adidas store) have greeters, like in the US. I hope that doesn't catch on in France, I hated greeting when I worked at Victoria's Secret and the Gap and I don't like being greeted either. I wonder if they have to have pep talks here, and if they discuss conversion and shrinkage.
I think I'm going to go to the movie theatre tomorrow, and a Baroque Choir concert on Thursday.
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