(no subject)
So, I was looking at photos on facebook and I realized something: My hair is never blonde at my birthday. My 19th it had just been stripped of the scary black and was a fairly nice brown; for my 18th it was pretty lame and ugly, but still brown. I know that my 16th (at least for the party) it was an interesting shade of reddish brown. I have no idea what color it was senior year, but I'm guessing brown based on precedent. So that's interesting. I'm a brunette in winter.
That was just a random observation. And here's some more:
This is the only place in the world that anyone can ever say, "You're very beautiful, would you like to go to monaco with me?" Seriously, in what world is that a pick-up line? Nicoise men apparently enjoy inviting women to Monaco. I don't know why; I didn't think Monaco was that great (although that may be related to my losses at Monte Carlo). It would be less weird if I hadn't been invited to Monaco three times by three equally creepy older guys. Alas, this is France.
The book "French Women Don't Get Fat" is full of lies. There need only be a pamphlet explaining why French women are skinny. That pamphlet would have a picture of the landscape of this lovely country, and it would say quite simply, "French women don't get fat because they spend half their lives walking up these absurd hills." I now have leg muscles to rival a female hockey player. It's scary.
Indian food is better in England. (DUH!)
I know Jews think they're the chosen people, and Israel is special and whatnot, but....... America is the promised land. Because we have good air conditioning. That's all.
You forget about lack of air conditioning, though, when you get handed a wine list. And never get carded.
Or when you do tequila shots.
Or absinthe.
Hopefully Nick will come visit at Christmas, and we can get our AWESOME matching tattoos. (Please don't comment on the matching tattoos thing. I know it sounds utterly retarded, but they won't really be identical. Just the idea is the same, and the meaning. FRANCE.)
I really would love this muscle in my calf to stop aching. It's sort of killing me.
Oh, and I have the most amusing sunburn ever. It's hot. It's the a farmer's tan, but backwards. I look like I wore a tube top and arm warmers. So stupid. Oh well... Shit happens, especially in FRANCE.
I'm really excited to come home, but I know I'll be missing France in like three days. (Sixteen days at the most...since that's when school starts. FUCK.)
That was just a random observation. And here's some more:
This is the only place in the world that anyone can ever say, "You're very beautiful, would you like to go to monaco with me?" Seriously, in what world is that a pick-up line? Nicoise men apparently enjoy inviting women to Monaco. I don't know why; I didn't think Monaco was that great (although that may be related to my losses at Monte Carlo). It would be less weird if I hadn't been invited to Monaco three times by three equally creepy older guys. Alas, this is France.
The book "French Women Don't Get Fat" is full of lies. There need only be a pamphlet explaining why French women are skinny. That pamphlet would have a picture of the landscape of this lovely country, and it would say quite simply, "French women don't get fat because they spend half their lives walking up these absurd hills." I now have leg muscles to rival a female hockey player. It's scary.
Indian food is better in England. (DUH!)
I know Jews think they're the chosen people, and Israel is special and whatnot, but....... America is the promised land. Because we have good air conditioning. That's all.
You forget about lack of air conditioning, though, when you get handed a wine list. And never get carded.
Or when you do tequila shots.
Or absinthe.
Hopefully Nick will come visit at Christmas, and we can get our AWESOME matching tattoos. (Please don't comment on the matching tattoos thing. I know it sounds utterly retarded, but they won't really be identical. Just the idea is the same, and the meaning. FRANCE.)
I really would love this muscle in my calf to stop aching. It's sort of killing me.
Oh, and I have the most amusing sunburn ever. It's hot. It's the a farmer's tan, but backwards. I look like I wore a tube top and arm warmers. So stupid. Oh well... Shit happens, especially in FRANCE.
I'm really excited to come home, but I know I'll be missing France in like three days. (Sixteen days at the most...since that's when school starts. FUCK.)