you can find me in the fourth

First of all, I think I have bipolar disorder.
Second of all, I think I saw 50 Cent in a wheelchair in Le Marais today. That would be the gay/jewish/"poor"/trendy area of Paris. I am so serious about this.
Third of all, Friday nights rule. I don't work, but lately I've been staying at home instead of going out because they're really quite nice. Everybody is in a good mood, we usually either go out to dinner (the two preceding Fridays: Italian, Sushi) or order in (last night: INDIAN!!!!!!!!!). There is a table in the backyard and we sat and pigged out and Jacques asked me if there was an Indian restaurant in my "village." I guess he was pretty impressed that I knew I wanted tikka masala without looking at a menu. Also, regular nan is better than cheesy nan. Sorry, it's true. So yeah we sat around and ate and ate and then drank wine and it was soo nice out. Sometimes French suburbia is okay.
Today I remembered why I hate shopping in Paris. I have been eyeing this thrift/vintage store called Free-P-Star for awhile, and recently I read something about how it is THEEE BEST VINTAGE STORE IN PARIS, which I would imagine is saying something, right? Anyway so I get there (this store, along with 50, is in Le Marais). It sucked. It's tiny, about 15000 degrees, and filled with a. shitty clothes and b. ridiculously tiny/beautiful/immaculately dressed French girls. Yuck. Anyway I bought a dress and then left. It's not like department stores are even better. Actually I think they are worse. Seriously, don't go into nice store in Paris if you don't want to come out feeling obese, ugly, poor, awkward, out of place, basically a lot of things...well, maybe if you aren't actually obese ugly and poor you won't feel like that but...well, suffice it to say my self-esteem is somewhat fragile lately. Sometimes I just want to be in Wisconsin where I see people fatter than me on a daily basis.
Do you know what I hate about macs? There is ONE THING I hate about macs and it is: the absence of a key which can delete forward/to the right. I really miss that. And think about it way more than any person should ever think about a key on a keyboard.

I have an awkward problem

I guess some people have this thing where they sometimes go into uncontrollable fits of laughter. And they laugh and laugh and can't stop. I kind of have that, but it's not cute or quirky. It's really awkward. Usually it's when I am alone, in a very public place such as on the metro, in a quiet, serious, museum, or likewise. I start to think of something funny- usually having to do with my family or Michael Scott (that is another problem I need to address)- and then I start having weird spasms in my face, sometimes resulting in full-out laughter. It's so embarrassing. Most recently it was today in Monoprix. I remembered this game that my brother Michael and I used to play when we would sleep in the attic during the summer, called PACINO. As in Al. It's an Olson original by the way, in case you ever want to play it at a party and are looking for somebody to whom you can give credit. It's pretty simple: one person whispers a word that is either the word Pacino, or another word. The other person/people then try to guess whether the word was Pacino or not. WTFFFFFFFFF???? wtf wtf wtf. I was reminded of this game a few weeks ago when Michael sent me a postcard from Costa Rica that had "Pacino" written all over the front of it. Goddamn I miss my weirdo family. If you need further proof of their...eccentricity...look no further:



And just in case you haven't seen the original (where have you been?):




Yeah, they were driving to Florida and my brother Grady asked my dad if they could make a three-hour detour to Montgomery to stop at a flea market. Naturally my dad said yes (????!?!?!?!) and so they drove there, waited for the guy to show up to work, and then I guess bombarded him.

Well, anyway. I miss my brothers. If I didn't already mention it.

Time to go lay outside and think about how great Paris is in the spring. CIAO!

Well. I am back in France. You know how towards the end of a long vacation you start getting really excited to be back home? That happened to me in Spain, except it was really confusing because I kept remembering I'm not sure where my home is or if I was actually going to it. But it is nice to be back. Every time I fly back into France from somewhere else I feel a less like a visitor and a little more like...an expatriate? Hmph. God, this blog is really turning into something of a chef d'oeuvre, isn't? Sometimes I really can't stand my own literary genius. Purely astounding.

While abroad (what does that technically mean? I realize I am an idiot), I had to do quite a bit of soul-searching, considering we were staying in a TINY town (the tiniest you have ever seen) and I really had nobody to talk to, other than a bunch of Spanish guys and oh...wait...I don't speak Spanish. Because I really have no interest in searching the depths of my soul at the moment (maybe that's why I escaped all my issues and moved to France), I instead chose to read every book in sight. Mostly I stole from Clara (12 year-old I babysit for) because I didn't bring enough. All in all, I read: Love In A Time Of Cholera, The Sound And The Fury, Pride & Prejudice, Bridget Jones' Diary, The Secret Life Of Bees, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The last three were all completed over the course of about two days. Not for the first time, I found myself rather infuriated by the overall content of Bridget Jones, especially how recently I'd also read its "inspiration." WTF, woman? Since when can you completely rip off the plot of another book without giving credit? Is naming the principle male character after the original supposed to excuse the blatant THEFT? Well, personally I think it's dumb. On the back there is some comment from some stupid critic (probably from USA Today if I had to guess) that says something like "Reads like Austen and fill-in-the-blank-idiot-author combined. A triumph!" WELL DUHHHHHH!!!! Why am I getting so worked up over this? Apparently I did not get the buena onda vibe the spaniards were going for. Anyway. P&P is obviously much better and I think Darcy is the only fictional character I've ever ACTUALLY fallen in love with. No, seriously.

I guess I have nothing much else to talk about, considering I'm back to the normal stuff. Definitely the most exciting moment at work lately was when Lucas (nine year-old) finally, casually, decided to reveal over breakfast that he goes to school with Johnny Depp's children. I swear to god that he and I have talked about Pirates of the Caribbean in some facon (? is this a word in english? not sure) every. single. day. for the past oh, two months? He has posters of that shit all over his effing wall, but no, I just find out now. Well, needless to say I am going to start actually getting dressed when I bring him to school in the morning. I also told him that if he doesn't get invited over soon, that I won't love him anymore. No, I didn't tell him that. Should I? I'm considering it




I really have nothing else to say at the moment. It's really nice out here. I want more clothes. I am uncharacteristically and alarmingly tan. I don't think I like it.