Anniversary in Athens

Anniversary in Athens

Five years. Five years since I've worn a dress. Five years since I've had my feet in a shiny new pair of girl shoes, standing next to a crazy French man in a funky pinstriped suit with a pink ribbon in his hair. Five years since we stood there next to one another, in la mairie du 18éme arrondissement in Paris, listening to some very official-looking guy who rattled on in French. I barely spoke any French at all then, but it seems that very official-looking guy was jabbering on about wedding vows. I didn't really understand any of it, but apparently, we got married that day.I've read that the typical gift for a five-year anniversary is wood. Fucking wood? Sure, wooden things are nice, but, um... no thank you. Usually, on our anniversary, we'll go away for the weekend, or pick a really nice place for dinner because Olivier and I really dig a nice quiet atmosphere where we can be alone....
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Lebanese Cuisine: A Love Story

Lebanese Cuisine: A Love Story

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food."  -George Bernard Shaw *In the winter of 2004, I had the brilliant idea to take a trip to France.  I thought to myself, "Sure... this'll be great.  I'll go out there all alone.  I've been talking to that French guy on the Internet for the past few months... yeah, this is a good idea."Ok... so it was a little wacky.  But, my gut said that it was a good idea, even though my head was making fun of me constantly, using words like "careless" & "daft".But, hell... since when do cautious & rational have all of the fun?It was November.  The plan was set for me to spend 2 weeks in France during April of 2005.Fast forward to April in Paris.Skip ahead to me & him, in his apartment in Montmartre."I rented a car," he said.  "I thought that next week, we'd...
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International Internet Dating: Poop, Pajamas and Paris

International Internet Dating: Poop, Pajamas and Paris

It was about 5 years ago. I was sitting in my apartment, writing in the dark, chain-smoking and getting drunk. I wasn't lonely, but I was. I had recently been dumped. Part of me was pissed. Part of me didn't give a shit. Another part of me wanted to be alone. Another part of me didn't.I briefly tried dating. I sucked at it. I wasn't into it. Asshole that I am, I sometimes didn't even show up for a date.Those online personal ads and dating sites kind of freaked me out. Sifting through people from the intoxicated comfort of my own home was somewhat appealing. I didn't have to sober up or bother with changing out of my dirty pajamas with the food stains running down the front.The problem was - I don't know if you've noticed - but there’s a lot of goddamn freaks on those sites. Sure, you might meet a normal one, but for every regular person...
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Damn…Two Years Already?

Damn…Two Years Already?

It feels like it was only about a week ago that Olivier & I were being bombarded by all of that fucking rice.But...it was two years ago already. Damn.The traditional gift for the 2nd anniversary is cotton. Fucking cotton? Whatever. It's true that I really would like to have my own special room filled with nothing but cotton balls just so that I could jump in it like a giant, silent pile of leaves...but Olivier is always throwing that phrase "it's not practical" at me whenever I come up with brilliant ideas like that.So, no cotton ball room...but, I was actually coaxed out of the house by promises of delicious Greek cuisine. I had completely forgotten how much I hate shoes & pants. Olivier was a walking snot-faucet & had himself all jacked-up on cold medicine...No, really...he was sick. I'm sure that you're thinking it was the past couple of years that gave...
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