"Back to School Collection"? I thought I'd gotten Lucien's Back to School needs squared away but it appears I forgot the sexy bra and panty. Wow... I never realized how much I hate the word "panty." Ouf, stop it! Stop saying it!
In other news, the ads on the side of the Conciergerie are becoming just plain cruel. Look at the nonsense that's up there now --
Really, Conciergerie? Isn't that kinda mean, featuring a painting of Marie Antoinette without a face, and a title of "Ghost Save the Queen" on the side of the building where she was held prisoner right before she LOST HER FACE and WAS NOT SAVED? All that's missing is the slogan, "Hey, folks, DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD over this Samsung thing, yeah decapitation!"
You're being kind of a dick, Conciergerie
Let's all just cool down for a minute. Perhaps Loosh's drawing of a Tyrannosaurus Rex will soothe us --
Works every time
On Sunday I took a morning-long walk with Coco in the stroller. I left Alex and The Loosh at home sitting in their underwear watching cartoons. (very nice mental picture for you and you are welcome)
You know what I love about Paris, what I will miss with my whole heart? Every time I take a leisurely stroll, I encounter wonderful things. I encounter surprising things I never thought I wanted to see and yet when I happen upon them I think, "Yes, this completes me as a human."
This time it was basketball in front of Hotel de Ville. And not just any basketball -- horrible basketball. I watched them for twenty minutes and didn't see a single basket made. It still made me happy to watch them, and to listen to the accompanying bone-rattling hip-hop music.
Cokes and I wandered into the Marais. How is it I've never been down la rue des Rosiers? Just when I think I've seen everything, I find a delightful street full of Hasidic Jews and falafel -- two of my favorite things in the whole world! I really should have come to this street sooner.
On our way home, we swung past Camille Claudel's place on Île Saint-Louis so Cokes could give a shout-out to her namesake --
Yo, other Camille
On the Pont Saint Louis, we found several men inexplicably dressed like safari guides. One was jamming on a piano, one a bass, and the other was singing into a bullhorn. They were hella fun. I hope my neighbors in Seattle dress like safari guides and sing into bullhorns from time to time. It's Seattle -- place is full of weirdos -- so I probably won't be too disappointed on that one.
It's a piano on a bridge
I've been on a mission to find a dress for an upcoming Mad Men themed party. I hate themed parties because of the pressure they put on the attendee -- pressure besides the usual "don't get drunk and make out with a stranger" pressure. There are vintage clothing shops near me but I would have to pay hundreds of euros to get a Betty Draper-ish dress and I don't want to pay that much to look like that horrible woman. (Maybe I should go for the Joan look since I have such a great rack?)*
*You may not realize this, but that's the funniest thing I've ever written.
I went into one vintage store and ended up buying a bunch of cool stuff that had absolutely nothing to do with Mad Men. The groovy dude working liked my accent. He, like most French people, thought I was English. When I said I was American, he was surprised because my accent does not sound American (yeah! no offense, homeland, but American accents are the pits.)
Vintage groovy dude said it was cool I was American because he loooooved America and its accompanying Americans. He said that in America, if you work hard, you will do well and have a really good life. I said, "errrrr......yeah....right" and decided not to mention the five bazillion (that's an accurate number) people who work their fingers to the bone for minimum wage at several jobs yet can barely feed their families. I didn't want to burst his bubble; it's adorable the American Dream is still alive abroad.
I did finally find a dress at a vintage shop in the Marais (thanks Twitter, thanks Rachael!). It's two sizes too large so I'm going to have to cinch the hell out of it but at least I won't show up to the party naked. I tried on the dress for Alex. I said, "Hey, close your eyes and picture all those beautiful women on Mad Men. OK, now open your eyes and look at me." He laughed and laughed. I chose to believe he was laughing because I looked incredibly sexy.
Alex is hoping to score some vintage silk pajamas, slick back his hair, stick a cigar in his mouth and go as "Don Draper After Hours." I wonder if we'll be the two biggest idiots there or the next two biggest idiots? So exciting!
The people throwing the party have emailed everyone and asked for their two favorite songs. All favorite songs will be played by the DJ at the party. Just as payback, because we dislike themed parties so much, we're going to request Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back" and Baha Men's "Who Let the Dogs Out." Al and I will shake our asses in the middle of the room in our ridiculous apparel. Hope my mothball-smelling, two-sizes-too-large dress can handle my moves.
Lucien's teacher was hysterical at pick-up yesterday. Lots of arm waving. When I asked her why she was yelling at Lucien in such a mean way, she said she'd asked him THREE TIMES to stop hitting his friend. I was like, "Really? Only three? And then he stopped? Good job, son!"
Now I don't condone hitting, people, but when it's the first time the kid has acted up this year, and he was goofing off with his friend, well.... I can't help but feel it was an overreaction. His teacher seems prone to hysterics and mood swings, which doesn't bode well. I hate to leave you, Paris, and my heart breaks, but we're going to have to get The Loosh out of here sooner rather than later.
Speaking of which, we've chosen our departure date but I'm not going to write it here. I don't do well with goodbyes, so one day I'll just be gone... poof....
Always remember me, posse, and remember I like big butts and I cannot lie,