'Cause I'm (annoyed) to be an American...

I bit of introspection about my nationality:

Here's a short list of what it is to be American. Nowhere in here will you find the words "patriotic" "Bush" or "love my country," don't worry.

I am an American...
1. I am loud.
In vain do we struggle, but we just can't get ourselves to laugh like Japanese schoolgirls.

3. I cringe when I spot other Americans, thinking that, naturally, I look completely native. Even with a popped collar and sorority sweater.

4. I will kill you in a debate on American politics
You may THINK you know everything about the states because a friend of a friend studied abroad, or you took a week long "holiday" in New York, but you're wrong. Sorry.

5. We're not all ignorant.
Just the president.

6. Actually, I won't give you a blowjob .
I just need to get this out there. Please tell all the European male friends you may have. Some slut(s) have made it very hard for us.

7. If you're French, don't even try to speak English to me.
My French is probably better than your English.

8. If you're British, your English is better than my English.
Keep talking. The bag over your head only makes you look hotter and your accent stronger.




(accepting submissions...apparently my nationality isn't that well defined)

Quit le bitching!

Looking at the Paris student riots of 1968, I always thought to myself, 'wow, how exciting..students..actually getting excited about some thing, wreaking havoc, etc."

Turns out, student protestors are really damn annoying.

I'm about to get my own personal billy club if the anti-CPE riots don't stop. Read, er, this if you think a CPE is a Crappy Parisian Excuse to protest.

There's rumors of us holding a vote as to whether to "go on strike" from school next week.
( Wait..students can go on strike...from school? Bad ass! Should've done that in middle school)
The vast majority of uni's in France haven't been in school for 2 months or so.

As nice as that may seem, this is bordering on absurd. Damn socialists.

I may be turning slightly conservative with age, but I just don't care. Goodnight.
Oh!

And a pic-y from Dublin from St. Patrick's Day with Keith! Rest are on el facebooko.

See, 'cause in Dublin, when they gather in large masses they drink and dance and sing a lot. Bless their hearts.

The crotch of France is beautiful.

Back from break! Emily was here! It was fantastic! We spent a few days in Paris, but, notably spent a few days in Arles and Avignon and the viscinity in the crotch of France.

And, funny the sun DOES shine there, unlike other crotches. Okay, enough already with the crotches.

Pictures worth scrolling down for:

Emily at Centre Pompidou. Yes, this is The Artsy Shot.
















DOESN'T THIS PLANTER LOOK AN AWFUL LOT LIKE A POPSICLE??! (still in Paris....)















IN ARLES, WALKING TO OLD ROMAN ARENA:















SAINTES-MARIES-DE-LA-MER
(yes the city names has THAT many hyphens in it and there are TWO holy marys they pay homage to.)
















WHICH BORDERS THE CAMARGUE, FRANCE'S SWAMP. Without alligators, though. Instead?
Flamingos and Ponies. "Like a Lisa Frank wet dream."
















SO THEN WE RODE PONIES. Because you can't ride flamingos. Unless you're in a Disney Movie.
These pictures only include my pony's head, because I got the dumb one, that insisted on remaining 50 paces behind everyone else. Fucking Mistral. At this point in the ride we decided,
"It's like we're in a bad Shania Twain video"















Riding white ponies on the Mediterranean is pretty sweet. The pics from Avignon will have to wait for another posting. The spirit is willing, but the laziness is stronger.

Your moment of zen.

I seriously couldn't eat it. It was too cute. And yet, tragic, that it missed it's calling as an extra in a Sir Mix A Lot video.

The letter and the gnat.

I slept a lot through High School French.

I realized this recently during one of my six essay-exams in French. It's frustrating when you can talk for hours about International Law in a foreign language, but you're sitting there at the start of the next paragraph thinking,
"Fuck! What's the best connection word between these paragraphs? WHY did I throw away that hand-out?!WHYY!!!??"

Again, at the prefecture of Police today, when I officially decided to end my status as a visa overstay/illegal alien, my lack of attention span in High School came back to spite me. Now, I'm not only a little late with my application, I'm oh....3 months late.

Sitting in front of a surly Martiniquan woman, I had to answer a question I didn't really have an answer for: "So why did you wait 6 months to apply for your residence permit?!"
Possible answers included:
"I did nothing but drink the first two months here before school started"
"I'm completely lazy" or, even,
"Landlord tried to suck my blood, have had to bat her off with a broom for the past few months" (which is true)

Instead of beating me while during a ritualistic dance of the bureaucrats, It turns out, I only had to write a letter in front of the Martinquan fonctionnaire.
YES, a LETTER saying I was sorry and why I was so late turning in my dossier. So, I start out and write some complete bullshit about having difficulty finding the necessary documents, etc. etc. Then I get to the end. The French add some sentence at the end of every letter before the signature that is some variation of

"Let me lick your ass and offer you my best sentiments" or, for more severe letters,

"Lick my ass and give me your the assurance of your best wishes!"

I blanked. I had no fucking clue how to write this. In the ONE opportunity where someone stuck a piece of paper in front of me (outside of High School) and said, "GO! WRITE AN IMPORTANT LETTER IN FRENCH!" I couldn't perform. Damn you, IB French. Damn you attention span similar to that of an ADD gnat! Damn, damn, damn.

On the plus side, I'm a little less illegal today. I'll drink to that.

God doesn't care about cigarettes.

While watching a French-produced documentary on American evangelism tonight, they showed some especially hateful protestors with signs that said,

"GOD HATES FAGS"

Having been with British people way too long, my first thought was, "Why are they going after cigarettes?" "Is anti-tobacco activism the new Evangelical cause?!"

In other news,
I have 5 exams in the next week, and am completely panicked.
School drools. Find me a good translation of that in French.

-F

Un touchdown accordé aux Steeleurs de Pittsburgh!

Oh dear god, they've tried to do the Super Bowl.

France 2, complete with French commentators (Where the hell did they find them?!) broadcast the Super Bowl live this Sunday. It's funny, it may be the first time I've laughed consistently throughout the big game. Without getting to the sheer absurdity of the coverage, let's just fast forward to the Half Time show.

In a room literally wallpapered with American flags, a popular TV host has two guests with him: A French comedian, and as best I can figure out, a large man who was just cast as "Random French Black guy." (RFBG) I mean, seriously. I think they just picked the largest man in the country, and were like, "Hey! You look like you could maybe be American! Go on TV!"

Host turns to RFBG and asks, "So what do you like about American Football?"

RFBG: "What I like about baseball is..."
(host interrupts: "no no, this is Football à l'Américain"). RFBG looks kind of surprised.

The Comedian then takes it upon himself: "I like the helmets. The helmets are cool."

I'm thinking I could've done a better half time show, until I see the mysterious Third Guest. YES, a real live NFL Cheerleader.

Tits McAmerica with flowing blond long hair comes on, and they continue to not bother to translate anything to her, so she sits there looking scared, as RFBG actually begins to put his head nearer and nearer to her shoulder. They finally work on translating some hard hitting questions to her, as soon as they figure out she can't speak French.

Host: "So, why are cheerleaders so pretty?" (montage of American cheerleaders in background) (Tits McAmerica's breasts pop farther and farther out of her top)

Cheerleader: "Umm (being dubbed over, simultaneously)..well...there's a lot of us out there, and you know, only some of us can become cheerleaders."

Host: "So why do you all look the same?"
(A brilliant question, if you ask me)
Cheerleader: (pause) "Well, we all have to have long hair." (another awkward pause)

All of this confirms my suspicion that we Americans are just as much a national laugh for the French as the frogs are for us. Here's a translation guide to French American Football, which took me a fair amount of time to figure out:

Rot-lees-bear-gurrr: Roethlisberger
'Asselbeck: Hasselbeck
Le wide réceveur: Wide Receiver
Les linebackeurs: Line Backers

The funniest thing being, I imagine that they gave the soccer (read: real football) commentators a half-assed explanation of American football and told them to cover the Super Bowl, so the tempo of the commentary is WAY too fast for a football game.

"And 'Asselback has the ball and he's GOING! ALLEZ! ALLEZ! (play ends). Oh. And another break."

All in all, I far prefer French American Football. There's only one thing that's worse about this Super Bowl:


French ads suck.