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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