Sunday, October 28, 2007

Dickhead

I've been here nearly two years now but have yet to receive my Carte Vitale (yeah, put that in your movie, Michael Moore!). Because I'm able to see doctors on Fred's card and hate doing paperwork and reading instructions, I could have gone on like this forever. As a condition of my new employment, however, I had to produce a card or at least an attestation that I was in the process of getting one. I received the attestation and my card was supposed to arrive the following month. Instead I received a notice that France is introducing new cards that require a photo I.D. The other night, the only night I had on make-up, I finally mustered the energy to take the photo. We arrived at the Saint Michel station photo booth a few minutes early before meeting a friend for dinner. I stepped in the booth and was ready to go. Luckily, Fred is more astute than me and said “if you use this booth that will be in the photo”. I focused on my reflection and turned around to examine the giant penis and scrotum scribbled on the plastic backdrop. I tried standing up, rearranging the seat, having Fred hold up my coat as a back drop, all to no avail. I considered just taking the photo with my head perfectly framed by male genitalia. Certainly a giant penis growing out of my ear would convince a doctor that I was worthy of medical attention.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Want to hear something gross?

I'm traumatized and am seriously considering a thumb amputation. I called the elevator at the airport today because I was lost and in a hurry (just so you don't think I'm lazy) and while I was waiting some gross woman walked up. She was sniffling and wiping her nose with her bare hand like a three year old. We entered the elevator and I chose my floor. She couldn't wait the millisecond for me to move away from the panel and brushed her slimy snot hand up against mine thereby depositing a pool of glistening mucus on the tip of my right thumb. I spent the entire time in the security line trying not to touch anything. Of course, I couldn't stop off at the bathroom because I was late for my flight; a flight that I ultimately missed, which in a way is good because it gave me the extra hour I needed to try to scrub my thumb clean.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Socrates, alive and well on rue Daguerre

We entered the Greek store on rue Daguerre to treat ourselves to some baklava. Fred placed our order and the man behind the counter asked if we were espagnol. I said no, he is français and I am américaine. While ringing us up, another owner chimed in and referred to us as the le français and la canadienne. I seriously don’t know why I even bothered, but I said that I was américaine. That’s when he explained to me that because Canadians, South Americans, and “Indians” are American too, I can't just say that I’m américaine. I explained that I was aware of the make up of the continents; regardless, we are called Americans/américains. Canadians and Argentineans, for example, don’t refer to themselves as Americans when asked their nationality. I asked him what I should have said and he said that I should say that I am from the United States. I explained that I would have said that had he asked me where I was from versus what I was. I asked him the French word to describe a person from the United States – an innocent woman who had just walked in overheard my question and offered “américain” – exactly! It’s a French word, if he has a problem with it he can take it up with the French minister of culture. Plus, he’s an idiot because since Canadians, South Americans, "Indians", and "people from the United States" are all Americans, then my answer was correct, I am American! According to him, all people from India are Americans too. I was willing Fred to tell him that his French was crap and that he should shut the *F* up. See how agressive I am? Now if that's not American, then what is?!?

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Not even a little?


When did France get so strict?!? Another myth down the drain! I was shocked to learn that French women do get fat. That bad French food does exist. And now this? What happened to, "in Europe it's totally acceptable for women to have a little red wine during pregnancy"?

There is a simpler way to make yourself Chinese.



When I saw this ad, I was in disbelief. "There's no way it would have run in the U.S.," I thought to myself. But, it seems that Wanchai Ferry is a division of General Mills. I'm curious if anyone saw this ad in the States?