Postage from abroad

Paris is kind of a weird compromise between the stereotype it is trying near successfully to live up to, hobos with dirty feet, and all the minorities that seem to be represented only in restaurants. I swear I've had dreams about the architecture involving princesses falling in love with unwashed revolutionaries. The men are a shockingly sultry genetic blend, and are always behind on their shaving. My feet hurt constantly, and I don't think they've been clean yet.
Joe is getting constantly more exasperated at my ineptitude, lack of meaningful social skills,and tendency to trip.

Everyone in our group fucking loves Joe, and his Mr. Osman chimney sweep hat and his ugly-ass shoes that everybody's dad has worn at some point. The kids are nice. I have to go, and pay the nice internet cafe man. More later.

I've been away, and am soon to go away again. I'm liking this almost gyspyish nomadism (my feet smell bad enough to warrant the gypsy comparison) and not being in fucking Flossmoor. I'm off tomorrow to go improve my skills in the language that I shouldn't have taken in the first place. And drink espressos and complain about how much America sucks. The more travel shows that I watch, and more Midwestern car trips I take, the firmer this conclusion becomes. I'll come back and share with y'all the hilarity that will ensue when ten southerners and ten Yanks all under the age of nineteen take off to Europe for a month. And detailed descriptions of what I'm putting in my mouth. (The food, not that! Ew! Is that the kind of girl you think I am?) (Actually, my mom approached me with the "Just be safe, ok honey? Venereal diseases aren't fun at any age. The word for condom is the same in French, they'll know what you're talking about.")
I hope your summers are going well, and that Krissy finds a queen for her Enchanted Forest. Buy stuff from black Tori, yo.

Manhole

Good place to think. Wonderful name for a gay bar. There is one in my front lawn. That is all.

Whiny White Women Wallowing

There are few things on this earth as shrill, irritating, bafflingly popular, and wasteful of pop culture space as Meg Ryan. As it is summer, and I am an American, I have been watching a slightly immoderate amount of TV in the last couple of days. French Kiss was on some mostly neglected movie channel that we get, one of those channels designed for chubby divorcees, middle-aged gay men and twenty six year old women who still wear mostly pink and worship people like Madonna . ELOVE, maybe?
French Kiss, for those of you who haven't seen it, features Kevin Kline as this horny, scuzzy, mustachioed French thief, and Meg Ryan, who, as always, has this ridiculous Tinkerbell hair and continuously makes really bizarre assumptions about the opposite sex. Kevin ends up following Meggie, the neurotic (God no! Meg Ryan?) history teacher, because of things he leaves in her bag, and must then chase her and retrieve. (A vine! So he can grow grapes! In a vineyard! Gee, maybe he's got hopes and aspirations! Maybe he's not such a shitbag after all!) Which means putting up with Meg Ryan, who is chasing her cheating fiancee, because when said fiancee sees her, he will realize the error of his ways and return home to Canada, and they will get married and become a boring Ontario couple with Christmas trees and high-achieving kids,and who are kept on a disturbingly short leash by their inlaws.
I didn't end up seeing the end, but is there ever any doubt to how a Meg Ryan movie is going to end?

I'm blogging about Meg Ryan. I think this is a pretty good indicator as to how stimulating this summer has been so far.

EDIT: Kevin Kline was totally hot.

EDIT EDIT: I saw the end. I confess, I was seduced. I mean, they ended up together! And they kissed! They FRENCH kissed! They lived happily ever after! In France! What on Earth made me think that I could defeat the Romantic Comedy? That superiority complex that Krissy shedded all over me ain't worth shit. I'm a lost cause.