This past Thursday I went with my French class to see a French film. In French. With no subtitles. It was called Potiche, which I learned is a flower vase, but also means something like trophy wife or wall flower. Don’t worry, I didn’t figure that one out on my own. If it weren’t for…
Do you see that? Isn’t it depressing? And also kind of unfathomable? I mean, it’s not like I live in Seattle or something. But it’s been raining here for a week straight already. And apparently there’s no real end in sight. I know, I know. If I have to be steeping in cold, damp weather,…
So I don’t usually condone day-drinking. It gives you a headache, ruins you for any evening activities, and can often make you seem like a sad lush. But as I’ve nearly reached the ripe old age of 31, I feel as though I can confidently steer my younger readers toward what I think are the…
I know what you’re thinking: I’ve skipped ahead to Thanksgiving and totally missed the upcoming Halloween festivities! What the hell?! Well, they don’t celebrate Halloween here in France, so I really don’t have anything to report on that front. In fact I’m going to Bordeaux for the holiday, and I plan on dressing up as…
A year ago today I was 3 glasses of pinot noir and one donut deep, spooning my sister on a hospital couch at 3am. My contacts had long been thrown in the trash because I couldn’t shut my eyes for more than 20 seconds without them driving me insane. There may or may not have…
I apologize for the lateness of this post, but I was completely waylaid by a giant bowl of mousse au chocolat. No, really. A chocolate dessert of epic proportions has an incredible way of sinking you into a happy stupor that makes it nearly impossible to get up at a decent hour the next day…
People of France, prepare yourselves! Big Daddy arrived this morning, and something tells me Paris will never be the same. For those of you who don’t know my dad, let me explain. He’s a 6 foot 2 barrel chested man who wears painters pants and polo shirts, exclusively. He’s got a penchant for mirrored wrap-around…
This is going to be a short, sweet lesson this week, and when you get to the picture below you’ll really see what I’m talking about. You see, as you’re reading this, I’m actually sitting in Munich, under a beer tent, hoisting mugs of frothy German brew to my face with both hands. But wait…
Not to be confused with heartburn, although I did feel a little of that during some of the racier parts of this book that my dad sent me. It’s a funny thing, reading a mobster-POW-sex thriller that has the word “penis” in just about every other paragraph, knowing your own father read it and thought of…
No, that’s not a special champagne cocktail. Although a little hair o’ the dog might not be so bad right now, since I was up rather late sipping a cherry liqueur with a funny Polish name that translates roughly to “Grandma’s Splash.” I now have waves of pain pulsing through my cranium which lead me…
Unlikely Diplomat 