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Actual conversation in the taxi last night, after dropping off a good friend on the way to my house. The taxi man was young and smiley, and most of the conversation is just sort of goofy and lighthearted. Until the end, that is:
Taxi man: So, did you girls have a nice evening?
Me: Um... sure, why not? It was nice that it rained and everything got cooled off a bit.
Taxi man: Yeah. I guess you stayed out late to make the most of the weather, huh?
Me: I suppose so. But after a certain point I just wanted to go home.
Taxi man: Wny's that?
Me: Well, past three am or so, it's not very fun to be one of the only girls on the street. The men are just gross after a certain time.
Taxi man: Were the men bothering you?
Me: Yes. I hadn't seen my friend in almost a month, and we just wanted to hang out together. Why can't they understand that? (giggle)
Taxi man: (laughing) Yeah, they can be pretty determined. But you're beautiful, so I can understand...
Me: Well, thank you.
Pause
Taxi man: (turns on the light on the inside of the car, and looks at me in the rear view) No really. You are beautiful. That's why I picked you up tonight.
Me: (realizing that I am in his car and he could sort of drve me to some random semi-abandoned area, getting uncomfortable now, trying to change subject...)You choose your clients based on their appearance?
Taxi man: No. Just you. (turns of the light) Do you want to go get a drink with me?
Me: No. I want to go home.
Taxi man: Just one drink.
Me: No.
Taxi man: We could have a drink at your house.
Me: No. I don't think my boyfriend would like that very much. (laughing, trying to make the weirdness of the conversation go away)
Taxi man: Oh, how long have you been with your boyfriend?
Me: Six years. Almost seven.
Taxi man: Is he French?
Me: No, he's Congolese.
Taxi man: He's black?
Me: Yes.
Beat
Taxi man: I used to have an American girlfriend...
(here he launches into a story about when he went to the US to be with her, yada, yada, yada. Mainly, I feel relieved because he has let the getting-a-drink-together thing go, and we are only a few blocks from my house. We begin discussing cultural differences and what not, and I am happy we're in far more neutral territory. And then...)
Taxi man: I was serious though, about you being beautiful. You're exactly the type of girl I look for - physically, I mean. You're definetly my type.
Me: You can just drop me off right here.
Taxi man: Ok.
Pulls over
Read more »So I am pretty much ready for the heat thing to be over and done with. My magic feet are swelling so much it's becoming painful, so I know a rainfall is coming soon. Thank God, too, because I just can't handle this shit anymore.
Ironic, I know, seeing as how I'm leaving for India two weeks from tomorrow. India, where the air is mountain fresh and humidity is never a problem -- especially in August.
This morning, I went to the doctor to get my assorted medecines for the upcoming trip. I said I was there for malaria pills and she said, "Right. But I'm going to prescribe you stuff for diarrhea and vomiting, too, because you're pretty much bound to need them."
I laughed and said, "I know it's a risk, but hopefully I can avoid it."
And she sort of jerked her head up and said, "No. You can't, really. I was being very careful, but I puked for three solid days. I still don't know what did it to me. I think it's just the spices they use. I mean, the water is one thing -- you can be sure to avoid fresh fruits and vegetables. But the spices are not exactly created in sanitized conditions, and pretty much everything you eat has spices, so... yeah. I ate chapati and yogurt for the rest of my trip after that."
OK!
I also went to H&M to buy myself some fake-linen pants to move around town in while a-travelling. During the Southeast Asia Trio, I wore the same two pants throughout the trip, as they were pretty much the only thing my sweating body enjoyed having stick to it. I bought them at H&M, alongside a few 5-euro t-shirts that I threw away at the end of our travels. As I don't really have a lot of clothing, I prefer to just buy three shirts and two pants knowing they'll be pitched, that way I don't destroy any of the more durable things I own. Plus, word on the street is that women shouldn't look like skanky hos around India, so I thought I'd buy some shirts that cover my shoulders and breastesses.
Surprise of all surprises. I haven't been shopping since last December (no exageration), and I was positively overwhelmed by the awesomeness of H&M's t-shirt selection. They're long (refreshing change for us tall girls) and in great colors, and they cost 6 or 7 euros. I picked up a bunch - V-necks and normal necks - and then I threw in a sweater for this winter. My total came to 48 euros, which really felt like a lot to me, especially since I sincerely cannot remember the last time I bought myself new clothing without the presence of my mother. But damn if it's not cool having so much new clothing for that price.
So now I have a dilemna - I actually REALLY like most of the shirts I got. So I no longer want to wear them to India and pitch them. I want to incorporate them into my pathetic wardrobe permanently.
I'm thinking I'll go back to H&M and buy two more t-shirts (no sweater) and suck it up. Pay the 12 euros and make those my throaways. Everything is on sale. Everything is cheap. And that's how H&M just lures you right on in...
Over the weekend, the boys and I went out for what turned out to be a rather extensive evening. I've pretty much stopped bar- and club-hopping for a variety of reasons (the first of which being financial, the second of which being my sanity, and the third of which being my health) but somehow I got sucked into a Friday night of fun that lasted well into the wee hours of Saturday morning.
We began our evening on one cafe terrace, sipping beers and sweating. It was too hot and too humid to do much else. Afterwards, we ate dinner on a nearby terrace (more sweating), and then had another drink on yet another terrace (cool down).
I was ready to call the end of the evening right there, as the boys has made it clear that I wouldn't be attending the second half of the night's events (which consisted primarily of scoping out ladies for Mr. Sarcastic)**. But at the end of the meal, we all began arguing - them urging me to come along, and me insisting my presence would hinder their hunt. Eventually, I agreed to go, and it turned out to be a lot of fun.
The highlight of the evening? It occured just pas 3:30 am. When the bar was at a 9:1 male:female ratio, I just began turning down boys looking to dance with me without a whole lot of grace. Sitting on a bench, dripping sweat from at least 120 consecutive minutes of dancing, I really just wanted a break.
After five minutes of sitting in peace next to a silent, quiet type, yet another suitor tried to get me to dance. I declined, and turned back to look at the people on the dance floor. After a moment, the guy next to me leaned over and said, "Why not just dance with the guy? Make him happy..." His tone was warm, sort of giggly, as if to suggest he was in on the joke.
I turned to him and said, "I can't dance with men who come up to my shoulders. Physically, it's not possible. And it's uncomfortable. I'm just too tall for him."
The guy smiled and said, "Oh, come on. He's not all that short. And you're not all that tall. Why not just dance?"
"No really. I'm really tall."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"Stand up."
So we stood up and guy was pretty much eye-level with my chest. We just took one look at one another and started cracking up, and then we sat down together.
"Ok. I hear you. Don't dance with him. I'm not gonna ask you, either!" he laughed.
**What do you all think? If two guys go out alone, do they have more or less of a chance of finding a girl if another girl is already with them? Part of me thinks it's harder, but then another part of me thinks girls find a group of three (with one female present) less menacing, and might be more open to discussion/conversation than if approached by two guys. Not sure about this one.
We have a fridge! It is new, and shiny, and white! And we get to plug it in tomorrow! And store water in it! Cold water!!! I am so excited about the new fridge that I might even take the work camera home and take pictures of it! And you all would be like, "Yeah, so... um... that's a fridge..." in acompletely deadpan, unimpressed voice, and I would answer, "I KNOW!!!" followed by an elated giggle and then maybe some more exclamation points!!
And to the rest of the world, I know this isn't exciting, but guess what else? Just guess. Ok, ok, I'll tell you, but only because I know you're dying of suspense: the fridge has a freezer compartment! A FREEZER, people. I have gone five years without a freezer and I am just all a-flutter at the idea of having ice cubes. And sorbet. And fruit smoothies (hello, combo juicer/freezer/food processer... I am going to work that magic!). And best of all....
Read more »Cool moment today. What is in italics was said in French, in bold was in Spanish, and in normal type was in English.
Man: Hello, I am looking for a book. No, wait... a book. A book. Yes, I am looking for a book by Couture.
Me: Do you have the title of the book?
Man: Yes, it's a book, but not about Couture, it is his texts. He wrote... he wrote the book -- it's a very difficult thing to find. I think it is fairly rare. Sorry I keep speaking in Spanish.
Me (laughing): It's ok. I understand what you're saying...
Some time passes and I find a different book, and while he looks at the book we have the following conversation:
Me: Are you from Spain?
Him: No, I'm from Canada. But I live in Mexico. I mix up Spanish and French because I speak Spanish much more than French.
Me: It's ok. I mix them up in the opposite direction. Where are you from in Canada?
Him: Vancouver.
Me: Really? I'm from Michigan.
So there we were. In a Paris bookshop, a Canadian and an American were speaking a French-Spanish blend while one of them was on vacation in Europe from his normal life in Mexico. Of course. He was very nice (those Canadians!) and we had a great conversation about living somewhere long enough that it seems hard to envision going back, but home is still home no matter how long you're away.
Goddamnit. We are on day 5 sans frigo and I just made a big mistake. Desperate for cold beverage at 10:30 at night, I couldn't resist the lure of the Diet Coke The Boy had bought me to accompany our fifth takeout meal of the week. Oh, don't get me wrong: I knew the dangers of the late-night caffeine. But until you haven't lived without a fridge in 90 degree heat, I don't think you're really well-positioned to judge me.
So yes, I did it. I drank the Diet Coke just before 11 pm.
Now it's 2.30 am and I still have that signature shaking-leg move that results from caffeine overkill. Damn you Diet Coke! Damn you takeout joint with cold beverages!
The worst part, of course, is that I knew I'd regret it. Even as I opened the can, I thought, "Oh, this is a baaad idea." It's not the first time a little voice has said one thing while the rest of me has done the complete opposite. In my defense, I was thirsty as hell and had had enough of the lukewarm tap water.
I find this all fairly amusing, naturally, as tomorrow is the first day in a long while that I actually HAVE to get up early. This was totally well-planned on my part.
As long as I'm over-caffeinated, can I just get something off my chest? Thanks. I have this one pet peeve, and I have been noticing it more and more lately: "I should of" or "I could of" or any variation on that theme. What are people thinking? I know that's what we SAY, but please just write the "have" anyway. I think the very frequency with which I have been spotting this phenomenon around the internet is indicative of my need to spend less time online. We all know that nobody pays attention to what they write on "The Internets" -- myself included. But that's just one grammatical error I cannot let slide.
Another thing? If you're going to spend a good portion of your day riding around in a big truck, don't wear a skirt. Trucks are really hard to get into without flashing somebody. I like to think the guy in that Mercedes was a minister. We were right near all the government buildings after all.
Our refridgerator, which is one of those half-sized kinds that generally suck in all ways possible, broke. Just, boom. One night, we went to bed, the next morning, we woke up and there was brown goo oozing out of the freezer section that never actually worked in the first place. The brown goo gave off fumes that made me think of petrol, but more like rotten petrol that had been hanging out in a sewer for a few weeks.
Naturally, I had just gone to Tang Frères (big Asian supermarket) that day and had stocked up on all the veggies that I can't get in the supermarkets near me. My plan was to make a big Thai dinner, complete with the spring rolls that The Boy eats in terrifying quantities. SURPRISE! Nobody likes eating spring rolls with brown petrol sauce.
So that was something like 20 euros worth of groceries that had to be thrown away.
But wait, it gets better. My apartment is furnished and I dislike my landlord with the sort of simmering hatred one has for somebody who is cheaper than cheap. You all might remember the couch incident (we still, of course, have no couch) as an illustration of her cheapness. Now, however, get this: the landlord is on vacation this week, and she left on Thursday morning. She gets back on Wednesday. I called her to tell her about the fridge, and she first said, "Have you checked to see if it's plugged in correctly?"
Hello, dumbass. Brown petrol goo dripping from your refridgerator's ceiling means the machine is broken, plugged in or not. But to be polite, I said, "The light still works, but the fridge is not cold."
"Ok, well, can you just wait for me to get something when I come back? I know of a few cheap places where we can buy something."
Sure. I can wait a week. A week of not eating food from my own house, a week of not having cold beverages even though it's the middle of summer. A week of waking up in the morning and walking down six flights of stairs to buy myself a yogurt for breakfast. No problem.
Regardless, we're going out on Saturday and we're probably going to buy something. If she doesn't want to reimburse us for it because "it has to be under 140 euros" then she can shove it.
I can't wait to live in a real apartment.
So sad about the bombings in India. I keep checking up on news and am dismayed to see the number of deaths keeps rising, whereas there is still no news on who is responsible.
It's also ironic that I got my ticket confirmation in my inbox today. Departure exactly a month away.
I'm not worried, but I bet my mom will be.
So the other web site I run's forums have been hacked. Hacked to pieces by bastards with nothing better to do. I'm not bitter though.
I'm taking this all in stride. It happens. This is surprising because technological problems tend to eat at me for hours (yes, I'm a dork). And I discovered it quickly enough and contacted my host and everybody is doing the necessary work to fix it.
Sort of. The people in the support forum are a little mystified. I was running the latest version, no security holes they know of. I ran a security check, it came out clear. Checked my users, nobody is getting in "illegally." They think the hackers have gotten to my files - but maybe just one - but the whole system has gone wonky in the process.
So right now, all I can do is wait.
And yeah. France didn't win the World Cup.
It's been a weird week.
Luckily, I spent all day today in the sunshine.
So here's the funny thing: yesterday, I saw Marie Antoinette.
And I liked it.
So there.
Also, the theater was not exactly packed, but somewhat crowded nonetheless. I was sitting by myself (I like seeing movies alone) with two empty seats next to me. A middle-aged guy showed up and sat next to me, which irked me even though I was aware he didn't have many options. I know I don't deserve more than my fair shaire, but I like having space.
But then the guy's hand started sort of sliding over to my seat. I don't know how many of you remember my experience during "In the Mood for Love", but I'll sum it up by saying it involved an empty theater, me, and the wacko sitting next to me. A wacko wacking like wackos would. I am still a little traumatized by that event and get a little hypersensitive about personal space issues in cinemas.
Read more »Brazil: ELIMINATED.
Oh my God the euphoria! Oh my God!
We really were freaking out. This is huge. HUGE!
The boys and I watched the game, absolutely riveted. The French earned their victory -- they weren't just playing soccer, they were DANCING on that field. Well-orchestrated, masterful moves, and an all-out stellar performance from Zidane. They owned that stadium, no question about it.
After the game, we descended into the streets, where people were honking, clapping, and smiling stupidly. It was exciting to be a part of such collective happiness, and we decided to work our way to the Champs.
I read today that 500,000 people were on the Champs-Elysées last night, and the crowd had the whole spectrum: little kids sitting on their dads' shoulders, 100% football fans wearing jerseys, old, young, in-between. Near the Arc de Triomph, the crowd was a little bit violent -- something I will never understand about the French is why EVERY large gathering of people always has to result in teargas. But otherwise, the rest of the avenue was peaceful and simply swarming with fans.
I tried to take pictures but they just don't do the party justice.
We got home at 4-something in the morning. I'll admit to having a hard time walking by the end, after almost eight hours on my feet at work, followed by two hours of sitting in front of the television tearing my hair out, and then five hours of walking around town, I was absolutely exhausted. It was a thrilling evening, but I've got blisters to prove that we covered some serious ground.
I think I'm going to take it easy today and save up my energy for the SEMIFINALS.
Because yeah... the French are in them. Because they eliminated BRAZIL.
Side note: my neighbors are Portugese and have hung a Portugese flag out their window. Last night, right after the end of the match, I opened my window to watch everyone spill into the street. My neighbor was standing on her balcony, so I said hello and we chatted about the game. Then I said, "I see you've got a Portugese flag out," and she winked and said, "May the best team win..." My response was, "Are you kidding? This is war!" Wednesday is going to be intense.
