Happy Valentine's Day

 

From the city of lights.

99 Euro

Legos moving up in the world...

I am an emotional slut

I realized early on in Paris that I was an emotional slut.   
Perhaps because I grew up in an all female household or maybe because my dad is a therapist. Saying things out loud is a must. It makes things clearer, or at least more acceptable.
For example:  Parisian girls are all neurotic, scheming bitches who are frenemies.
See - now we can move on.

But your lifelong friends don't believe you.
How can ALL the Parisian girls be bitches?
How can all grocery stores close at 6pm? 
Why would a bank possibly require an interview to hold your money AND require you to pay them to do it?
And my personal favorite: that girl is not out to get you.  French girls are not as puritanical as we are.  It might be normal to walk around half-dressed in a thong and t-shirt in front of your boyfriend and her husband and kid.

So you need local friends (or alternately start a blog where even people you don't know can think you are crazy)
but friends take time
And no one has time, you need friends now.
And so maybe you go to lunch with one of your boyfriend's friend's wives.  And maybe she is experiencing the same thing.  And then you might feel the need to share more.
Which ends one of two ways - 1)both of you are sad saps in shock from all the nonsense going on around you. 

Or 2) she thinks you are total emotional slut who gave away WAY to much about herself.

Did you know?

Did you know that France doesn't include race in its census? 

Which might explain why they think this is a good representation of the population.

Why must you ruin your music for me?

Really?
Thank you for making your idiotic decisions completely eclipse my ability to enjoy your music/movies, etc. Rhianna, Britney, Whitney, Mel.  

People on the internet

My apologies for the dirty words. 

Oh Hopper!

I was so excited to go to see the Edward Hopper exhibit at 3a.m. and be by myself with an audio guide in front of all that. 
We got to the Grand Palais on Sunday morning at 2a.m. and found this

Only further confirming my theory of France's secret love for it's American spawn. 

Not willing to wait for 2h45 minutes through a hail storm, we cabbed it home. 

I hope we can meet face to face someday, Nighthawks...