1. Parisian pigeons know no shame or fear.
Several of them hit me during the course of my stay, nearly knocking the half-eaten baguette from my hand more than once.
2. I do not like French apartments.
The one we stayed at was old and loud during the night, and the heater made noises like somebody opening the door. Oh yes, I got a LOT of
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2. My hotel was on a nice, quiet side street. Suckaaaaaa. Although there were these Italians that came half way through the week and would not shut the fuck up. They had a fiyyyine son though. This still did not make up for the damage they inflicted.
3. In general, people thought I was Parisian, so they'd be asking me questions and such and I would go "Jzeuh NUH-PAHRLE-PAS frann-say BEE-ENN", and they'd run away, showerless, beret-clad, and clutching their ever-present baguettes.
4. Jesus yes.
5. We did not go there, thanks to the aforementioned deity. And such.
6. HEY I WISH MY MOM DID THAT.
7. Well... uh, uh, some creative insult on you. The dank was a little unpleasant.
8. I had no contact whatsoever with French teenagers, although I did meet some college students in Pigalle. They were pretty tasty. But, er... they were headed for Pigalle. So. Y'know. The reason that they were smirking and flirting with me was probably obscene? Plus I didn't understand their French very well? If they were even speaking French, oh my non-existant deity?
9. We had to run through two miles of O'Hare airport, and therefore crazyevilbitchdemonic airport attendants were cosseting us, the like, and we thought we were going to miss our flight, and my mother lost her shoe. Also, conversationally, Clydesdales are not pleasant.
This is good. I was about to go "UpDayTE ur LIVEJourN@l u h0r!!!!11!". And then you did.
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aYE eM VeRRy ThuRsTy.
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