This cracks me up

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/30/president-sarkozy-on-fren_n_162493.html

Oh, silly French....

Today is the end of fashion week. Would have been cool to have gone to a show. Maybe when I'm famous... :)

Paradox.

I am a paradox. Why do I try to be perfect? I don't even like perfect people! They suck. Of this I am sure (and I am sure of very few things). In fact, I don't even want everyone to like ME. Yet, I'm very...nice. Or I have good manners. Or something. Is it because I am American? Sometimes I wish I did not know French because I wouldn't understand the conversations next to me. And let me tell you, all women do here is talk about other women. Especially when they think you don't understand them.

As for the guy, either he understands me completely and we are on the same page or I am 100% wrong about him. No in-between on this one.

Relationships: I'm talking about with guys, lovers. Well that's my intention.
I want someone to care about me. Yet I don't think anyone really ever could; and its probably true because my personality is such that I attack or disengage before someone even has the chance.
AND at the same time I don't want someone to care about me because I want to care about myself and have that be enough. I don't want to need anybody. That way I can never blame them for dissappointing me. Or something.

I'm not quite sure where that leaves me.

A quickie

Just talked to my shrink. Man, I love my shrink. I wish his sons weren’t married. Is that appropriate?
Hmmm probably not, but maybe I could get away with it in France…

My friends who own the future wine/cheese bar next door had an impromptu party there on Saturday night. I hit it off with a guy named Jonathan. He is French looking, but I am happy to report that he is quite tall and his jeans are not tighter than mine ☺

At around 2am, I we decided to “watch a movie” next door at my place. I was retelling the story to this girl today and she laughed at me, but I really thought we were gonna watch a movie, or at least turn the TV on. Granted, I have no dvds so we obviously couldn’t watch a movie, and it was 2 am AND the middle of the party….but I guess I am naïve lol. He spent the night and we kept it low key… why am I beating around the bush?? We did not have sex, but we made out and spooned, etc… the whole night. He is very smart. He is a producer, right now he does commercials and music videos or something. I say “or something” because I am really not sure (the language barrier, plus I was tipsy, etc…) But he’s so cute!! hehe. So cute, in fact, that I actually straightened up my place because I am seeing him tomorrow.

I bought a quiche to reheat at home (eating out is so expensive) to have for dinner. To my utter dismay and absolute disgust, I discovered that it was curry flavored. Who does that???

Ok, I got distracted…. more to come ☺

xo
LHS

The Gems of (Mi)scommunications No. 1

This is the first in a series of "Gems" that will be appearing in this blog. This section of the site will be updated right away upon a gem's discovery/appearance in my consciousness. Context will appear as time will allow.

At the moment, I must leave to meet a friend at 19:00. (A.k.a. as 7pm...another new adjustment). So, just imagine the epitome of a young, French, ":this generation's version of bohemain," artiste sitting legs crossed, cigarette in hand who, in broken English, brilliantly says:

Poetry is like hope; if you write it in a way people can understand it."

OMG. YES. so lovely. This conversation happened yesterday. Only today when I replayed it in my mind (as us analytical types do), did this idea resonate with me or strike any kind of cord. Cuz it was so...deep.

OR...

maybe because in the moment it is so hard to piece together what someone with a French accent is trying to say in English, that any sort of deeper meaning would surely go over my head.

N'est pas?

xoxo
Lauren (said with a French accent, of course)
:P

J'ai une rendevous. a.k.a There will be Stories....

xo

The Blue Door

It's Friday night..

...and for the life of me I can’t remember what “Friday” is in French. I go from Thursday to Friday in my mind. I am thinking of going to Harry’s Bar, as in Harry’s New York. I refuse to use the word lonely. I believe that implies an attitude problem. I love it here. I just feel…tout seule.

I discovered this great, kitschy little bar/restaurant down the street. Everything, from the chairs to the beams, are covered in animal- print fabric. And I mean that liberally; none of the prints really match, and they are in fact faux. Also, they played bad bar-mitzvah dance tunes like "Celebrate," and a cover of Will Smith's "Miami" in French, of course. Oh and dancing red x-mas lights strung among fake cobwebs on the ceiling. The walls are dotted with black and white photos of Hollywood icons like Marilyn Monroe. Her picture is comforting.

It is here that I realized that my “gay-dar” does not, in fact, work in Paris. Probably all of Europe. Because, as the name might imply, everyone here is “Euro.” Two “Euro” guys who I, (ego-centrically) were of course checking me out, turned out to be, well, not checking me out. This was made obvious when they began caressing and kissing one another. I still wanted to be their friend, but I don’t think they were looking for friends at the moment…

SO.

To be a Hermit, or not to be a Hermit. That is the question on this chilly Friday evening.
My feet are cold.

Oh an I still can't work the damn dryer. I think I'll go read my book of French swear words.

Oh, and for another time, I'll tell you about the coolest art-book store I happened upon this morning.

I love the blue door to my apartment.

xoxoxo,
Lauren

Rue de Vertbois 26

Dearest Ange, (night 1)

I am sitting here on my bed, upstairs in my tiny loft bedroom. The beams are exposed and there is a skylight. I am in a new purple fuzzy robe and thick socks; my mini bottle of Chardonnay is also keeping me quite warm. Pictures of my apartment, the tiny street and surrounding area will be posted shortly.

I have been in Paris for two nights already (at the hotel). In that time, I managed to fall in love twice, and out of it once. I fell in love with Paris, as well as a cute Frenchman named Jonathan in front of the Eiffel Tower. I fell out of love, as he has not returned my call (s). Not to worry! The city oozes with romance, and fresh, foreign faces around every corner. Mmm.

I had a quick dinner (an oxymoron here in Paris, but I’m tired. and hungover.), at “Sushi Generation” at the corner of my street. Not only do they deliver, but it’s actually good. I don’t know why I’m surprised though. It’s a dream come true!!

I stopped at Monoprix afterwards for some kitchen staples: Coke Light (that’s French for “diet coke!”), bread, brie, etc… I also bought a towel, because there is no way I am using the ones provided. They’re gross. Enough said. I would like to wash it before I use it. I intend to tackle the manual to the washing machine/dryer that happens to all be in French.

I cannot wait to explore the area tomorrow and get things settled, so I can find my rhythm. Turns out I have free long distance from the land line in my apartment. Strange, right? Anywho, I’m going to bed early so I wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I have the mittens you gave me every day!! And yes, perfect for holding a cig when its cold out at night.

Miss you tons. Wish you were here!!

xo
Lauren