Someone just said 'Human Centipede'

Dear reader,

Paris, France. I am open and ready to be surprised, but not delusional. I know that I don't care much for French anything, save for a few movies. I get into Paris, get settled down along the banks of the upper Seine, and what do I do? I plan a night of a French movie, some Jazz in an Medieval cellar, and then some canard with a sample of escargot.

I got so giddy with the silly idea of going to a French action movie (the poster and name looked as much) and not understanding a thing. My perpetual need to view any and all movies is astounding, you mention. That is true. I was initially disappointed to notice the movie is in English! Filmed in America, but do not fret. Though the film wasn't in French, it was incomprehensible in a similar French manner. It was about an old tire that started blowing up things with its mind, whilst 'audience members' were watching from a hill top, being poisoned so the show could end, plenty of t and a. And even some p woven into a few bs.

This takes second place as the worst movie I have ever seen (He's Just Not That Into You still reigns). Speaking of reigning, Reign of Fire is still awesome. This movie really had my mind working on conversion rates and why I was alive. I remember a similar effect from HJNTIY (a smooth acronym), except my anger turned toward the human race, wishing we all repent, and losing all taste and sense of touch for a week.

I was guessing at the restaurant, but I figured 'The Petition" wasn't how you asked for the check. If you're curious, the duck was delicious, with carmelized onions, patatas bravadas with basil, and a lemon/rum drink (which did do something for the flavor, but cost a sandwich itself). And escargot, well, the garlic taste was all I could describe, but the texture caused taste hallucinations; that I was gnawing the dripping remnants of whale boogers from the inside of a heated tire. The garlic did help though.

Jazz is relaxing. That's about all I can say. Sometimes you get sleepy, but most other times you latch onto one instrument, and admire the players skill (hopefully). But you knew that without going to Paris, didn't you?

Today I saw all the major sights (on the Hitler monument tour, but people are reluctant to help me stage similar photographs), hiked around Montmarte (where they filmed Amelie, you love that movie, who doesn't), saw the peddlars, the comb-overs, was smacked by an unnecessary number of petitioners for the mute and deaf (I gave once in the train station, but have since been smacked in the arm and face-rubbed by 13 so far), and completed a promise.

SPACE TO BE OCCUPIED.

Noon. Paris. Today. Pont Neuf. You come alone. You walk to the middle of that bridge. You take off your jacket. Face east.

Unfortunately, due to construction, I had to face west. LOOK AT THE JACKET THOUGH. And if you enhance on my watch, you'll see it was done 5 minutes to noon. Of course, there is no picture, because the blog is rejecting it. Well, you'll see it, soon enough.

Did you know that Pont Neuf is decorated with the drunk faces of Henry IVs friends?

I am omitting pictures of different locks on the lovers bridge. One had a pacifier on it, which made me pumped for the next Twilight movie, you didn't read the books? One lock as a combination lock, which according to tradition, makes their relationship seem tepid at best.

In Global news, I have been told that the Wolf family Xmas Extravaganza will be Greek themed. I swear to god I'm wearing a toga, and though I am outmatched in the ruining a social engagement department, I will ruin my own little niche, and do my best to alienate myself and everyone around me. A true family tradition. The only way it could backfire is that everyone by chance wears togas, then what Dear Reader? They already bought a keg.


I have a flight to Madrid tomorrow afternoon. If I cannot catch a connecting train, I may be crashing with a friend of a friend. Hrm?


Oh, today I also met a teacher from Nova Scotia who is in Paris to watch his son figure skate in an international competition (he placed fourth for the Olympic trials). I asked the man what he taught. I thought he said Home-Ec. We had a nigh ten minute conversation before we realized that I wasn't talking about math. He said 'all math' which is confusing.


And sleeping in hostels, at its best is like bunking on a submarine. At worst it is Ibrahim, the Perpetual, in London spending two hours pacing to and from the bathroom and removing an baffling number of thin-thin layers. And what seemed like seven pairs of identical shoes. Upside down cake? Why's it upside down? (that article used to say that boobs are frequently referred to as 'Upside-Down cakes' something I endorse still).