We shared a cab, you hit me in the face.

Hi! I am almost 100% positive you remember me. I was standing in the cab line for about 15 minutes in 1 degree weather, and then you and your girlfriend ran in front of me in the cab line right as my cab, that I had been waiting so long for out in the ball shivering cold, arrived. Now I admit, I am a nice guy, and women get to take advantage of me quite often, but that said I haven't been laid in months, and when that happens, I somehow feel that the goddess of feminine nurture and chivalry can... how do I put this? Suck my six inch piano player. This is the point where I told the cabby what you girls did, and informed him that he was throwing away the very long cab ride to Erie as well as his moral saint 1-month chip. At this point he had the very bad... very bad idea to give me (a drunken narcissist, in the right) a ride with the girls who shunted me most literally to the curb. This is where the sh*t show began. Your friend and you are both very attractive, but nevertheless I have become accustomed to, when necessary, seeing only the ugly souls of the monsters who arrogantly think they can get whatever they want. The cussing, the womanizing, the abuse, the screaming, and everything that ensued for the next 15 minutes, is unlike me. However I was not alone in this endevor, in fact I would go as far as to say that it was YOU two who did most of the screaming, and abusing. Nevertheless I stood up to the both of you. I let you know exactly how sh*tty it was to leave a stranger to freeze for the sake of your own toes. And although I am a tired soul, tired of fighting petty battles with girls, there are times when the wild thing from my youth finds the perfect combination of irritation and gravel to carve a path to the surface and cuss you the f*ck out. So I did. Somewhere along the way you hit me, good and hard across the face for addressing you by your lady parts. I probably deserved it. But even so, when your friend got out of the car, the attitude from the back seat was cut in half. This reduction in calamity is what made me flip around, to see you face to face for the next 10 minute drive to your home, perched on my knees, and just listen. I watched as you blasted me with insults and be-ration, never admitting nor denying that you intended to leave me on the cold cabby curb.Your visage melted from rage into a pool of confusion as I just sat there and listened. By the end, you were reduced to a puddle of tears, and as gratifying as it was, it is these empty moments that remind me why I hush my inner child to sleep, and open the door for you, and hold your purse, and buy you presents, and walk your dog, and keep you warm, and give you kind smiles. When you exited the cab, my body took me over, I hopped out and gave a "Hey!". You turned around, and I threw my arms out. "I'm Sorry!". You sheepishly just looked to me, and through the tears came a genuine moment. A deep smile. Full of the confusion and joy that comes with being twenty-something. I just wanted to say I appreciated that smile. In it, you told me that you were okay, that we are only human, that you value people over right and wrong. Expect to have a beer on me if I ever see you again.....

Another Best of CL's.

Je ne parle pas français

Catherine Malandrino! Been doing a little goofy research on girls, models and aesthetics again. Turns out she's French!

Anyway, although we'll be spending most of our time in London (I think... oh god I have no clue what is going on), of course Paris seems all the more enchanting, romantic, mysterious and some what exciting. Though I'm looking forward to the rich sights and sounds of the iconic city of London *cue what should be their OST right here*, I just don't have the sense that the culture and people will be that much more interesting.

Okay, with the monarchy and regal heritage, there is a lot of pomp and pageantry in many of the things the English people do... Like. Um. Pouring tea. Their fancy government buildings and incredible newspaper headline fonts. Politics. Erm, their well-dressed military! Oh and... Yeah. Literature! That's it, Shakespeare and whatnot. And their "fashion". Which was all imported from... well. France. (Get the sense that I am sick of Colonial effects here... but no. Only the act/history of imposed Colonialization, although it did do countries like India some good. But not to worry, I am very much in love with everything Anglophone. I HEART WILLIAM AND KATE!!!!!!)

And if what they say about French people being snobby is to be true (which holds quite well in the Canadian-French city of Montreal, Quebec, to my experience... But of course that is a very geographically flawed comparison), I still have to give a very slow and understanding nod to this. Why? Because look at their damn history! Their sense of fashion, hairstyles, social mannerisms and etiquette, art (the idea of a masterpiece was probably borne out of the artists' ear waxes of this nation. Once the rest of the European world realized the splendor and value of beautiful art, they were like OMG!!! Did you see what Jacques just did with that painting, Reginald? If you are to be my son, see, you are to be just as skilled and talented as that young man. Understood, young chap? OR YOU SHALL GET THE HORSE WHIP IN THE STABLES BY VINCENT THY BUTLER. KAPEESH?), interior/exterior design and building infrastructure, amazing cuisine and wine culture (read Mireille Guiliano - French Women Don't Get Fat) and good looking politicians.


Prime Minister and his wife, Carla Bruni. Yeah, she's not a political figurehead blah blah blah but fuck she's so sweet and elegant.

Elaborate hair

Elaborate dresses

Back in the day, there must have been plenty of "seamstresses I'd like to get fingered by" jokes.

Holy embroidery, Batman.

The men are not spared. My balls feel so elaborate in this high-waisted poop jacket.

In today's world: HAHA LOLUFAG!

Lol.

Foreplay includes 36 tantalizing minutes of methodological clothing removal. Help from maids-in-waiting not inclusive.

Awful movie. But alas, the costumes and elaborate film sets were it's saving grace.

On behalf of Marie Antoinette's poor soul and Ms Dunst's extreme lack of emotional facial vocabulary, I sincerely apologize.


Abrupt end of entry.

(Jk. Sort of. Why did I go on such a long tirade of pro-Francophone culture? So, so, so hard to describe. It's hard to talk about this deep feeling of frustration that there are few who would be open to exploring, learning and understanding these interesting facts of something outside of their own world. Am I ever going to find someone like that, whom I will regularly interact with, be living in the same continent as, and have in my lifetime and not just for a semester or two? Is it silly to keep my hopes up that my future boyfriend/husband will maintain such qualities? Awkward. Snobbish. Intelligent. Geeky. Pretentious as fuck. That's how I see myself and how I think people who are reading this would think of me right now. I'm just in that place where I need a friend. A Canadian. Somebody with a Western-minded perspective. An adventurous person without the close-minded and materialistic pipe-vision of a... Chinese? Asian? Singaporean perspective? Yeah, you wouldn't understand.) *big sigh*

Anthropology-related/ interesting stuff: The French Paradox