One day, Olivier & I were walking around here in Paris with some friends. We passed a shop that I had never seen before & which immediately struck me as being odd. The sign in front read "Vélo et Chocolat". In plain English, it said: "Bicycle & Chocolate".Evidently, you can get a bicycle here & some bars of chocolate. Interesting marketing idea. It's true that chocolate goes with anything, it's just that I had never been riding a bicycle while thinking to myself, "Hmm...yeah...a thick bar of chocolate sure would hit the spot right about now".Naturally, this one-stop shopping idea isn't unique to Paris, or even to Europe at all. Before I moved to France, when I was living in the small town of Loveland, Colorado, there in the downtown area was a fabulous mecca of one-stop shopping: Probasco's.Yep...that's right. Bibles & wigs all in one amazing shop.It looks like both countries like the bizarre two-in-one stores. So, we're not...
Olivier & I arrived at the stadium & found our seats. Moments later, we were blinded by a pink flurry...a pink Cadillac did laps around the field, streaming pink feather boas. The shitty 80's disco music was deafening & asses were shaking it as far as the eye could see.No...it wasn't a gay pride rally. It was a rugby game. Yes, I'm serious.I was hypnotized. I stared in awe & wonder as I watched the pink Caddy filled with dancing girls. For a moment, I had forgotten that I was waiting for a rugby game to start.Of course, the game couldn't actually begin until a giant, golden rugby ball was wheeled onto the field. Try to imagine my sense of amazement as the gilded ball slowly opened to reveal another feather-clad Moulin Rouge girl hidden inside. Just try to imagine it - I bet you can't, though.After she had completely hatched, the...
Last year, Olivier & I flew back to Colorado for Thanksgiving. This year, we decided that we would spend Christmas & New Year's in the U.S. & would spend Thanksgiving in France.What I always find amusing is the Americans who think that there is Thanksgiving in France. When someone asks me, "So...is there a Thanksgiving in France?" or, "What do they do for Thanksgiving in France?" I have the urge to throw books at them for being so ignorant of the history of their holidays.Yeah...American holiday. Look into it.But, I digress.Funny enough, there is Thanksgiving in Paris - among the community of Yanks that are living here. Several restaurants offer a Thanksgiving dinner as long as you've made reservations well in advance.But...I just can't do it. Really, I don't see anything wrong with eating a holiday dinner in a restaurant, but it's bad enough that my mother isn't cooking the food. I'd rather not be fed my holiday meal by...
During the past year & a half that I have been living in Paris, I've naturally eaten at several French restaurants. The French love food & are (rightfully so) very proud of the food here.It often seems that there is a restaurant on every street. There are places with names such as: Taillevent, Le Dôme, L'Epi Dupin, La Charcuterie & La Tour d'Argent.All of those fancy-sounding French names are typical…but what wasn't so typical & the name that came as the biggest surprise to me was: Flunch.Fucking FLUNCH?How does this sound at all appetizing? Obviously, whomever the mental giant was that came up with this one needs to be punched in the brain. It seems quite apparent to me that there are much more suitable uses for a word such as "flunch"."Damn…I just stepped in flunch." "Stop flunching my leg." "Some sick bastard just flunched all over the bathroom floor."I've decided to work this word into my vernacular. While words such as...
One thing I really cannot stand is a ringing doorbell or phone while I'm eating. The fact that she came to our door as we were sitting in front of the TV stuffing out faces got her off to a really bad start.Olivier answered the door and found her standing there. Without saying "hello" or even introducing herself, she asked him if he spoke English. He told her that he did. For some reason, she continued to speak her shitty French in a German accent.Evidently, a neighbor had told her that Olivier is a professional computer geek. She said that she was in school and needed internet access to finish... I don't know - something for school. She insisted that Olivier come to her apartment and fix her computer so that she could use another neighbor's wireless connection. It was "urgent" she said.First she said that she had internet access, then she didn't. Obviously, this person was lying. My theory...
So, this past weekend, Olivier and I went to see Monkey, Journey to the West. If you have the opportunity to catch this show, I highly recommend it.The music by Damon Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz) was excellent. The animation by Jamie Hewlett (Gorillaz) was just as cool as one would expect, but the performers from China were incredible. Sword fighting, dancing and acrobats... of course, there was even a contortionist. Olivier and I were in awe throughout the entire show.Who knew that a night at the opera could be so cool?There was one small matter, though -- the entire show was in Chinese. Okay, no big deal. There were French subtitles illuminated above the stage.French?! Yeah, I got to practice my French, too. What a full night.Oh... and there are two other monkeys that will be making a trip to the west. That's right. Olivier and I will be spending Christmas in Colorado.Not only will we get to spend some time...
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