Shaboom sends us her update from Paris, France:
I haven't been writing lately because I'm fighting off a mean case of the reds and all I have handy even remotely resembling a light-saber is a baguette and then I just think about getting fat and the whole cycle begins to repeat itself. Also, every time I get a smidge of inspiration, I'm either not near my computer or can't be bothered to go through the laborious process of punching the tiny letters on the screen one-by-one on my iPhone blogger application. Or I'm on a train and am too afraid to pull out my phone for fear of getting mugged again.
But I digress.
So I'm back in Paris again FINALLY after like a year of non-stop travel. Come to think of it, I'm on another plane in less than 3 weeks and OMG did you know that I've been browsing fancy coffee makers online even though I'm very limited in my coffee brewing knowledge? Thank heavens ManEater taught me how to use a French press the last time I was in LA.
Fancy Coffee Machine #1
Fancy Coffee Machine #2
Sometimes weird thoughts pop into my mind (actually all the time) and sometimes it goes like this:
My Thought - "You should exercise or something. Maybe you could have that flat stomach you wish existed without the help of Photoshop or anorexia."
My Reality - "That would mean crunches or a physical trainer or having some kind of kinky sex that you can't even dream up."
To be clear, weird thoughts pop into my mind all the time but only rarely are they about physical self-improvement. Most of the time it goes like this:
My Thought - "I could really go for a pain au chocolat right now."
My Reality - "That would mean walking to the bakery or having sex with my partner to get him to go get me one. That seems like an awful lot of hassle. Guess I'll just drink coffee instead."
Guess how many cups of coffee I've had today?!?! Thank the lord Cashew left his Nespresso machine behind when he moved to America.
To walk to the bakery means exposing myself to the noise of all the children at the elementary school across the way (exposing myself TO THE NOISE, I don't go around flashing children). Holy crap kids are loud. They're running around like wild animals screaming and crying... even when they're having a good time. Parents must not appreciate peace and quiet, otherwise why would they willingly have children!? How could they voluntarily give up the peace and quiet? Or maybe they're all just secretly rich enough to have sound-proofed bedrooms and nannies and stuff ...or they're secretly deaf.
*more uninteresting crap related to side note*
How do I always seem to live across from a school or some other child-noise related facility? When I lived in France in the mid-nineties, when I lived across from that t-shirt factory in China, when I first lived in LA (Burbank,) and my last apartment in Paris... I lived across from parks, schools, etc.
PS - I never lived in China.
I make no sense. And I need more coffee. And maybe a lobotomy.
Nothing in this post is even remotely related to The French Skinny, except maybe the pain au chocolat part, I guess.
And this is why I haven't been posting lately.