I Am A Whiner

I am laying in bed as I type this. I turned out the lights twenty minutes ago but sleep doesn't seem to want to come.

I have had the last three days off, I spent Saturday in Basel but came back yesterday, and have remained in my apartment due to horrible abdominal pain. At one point I took out my garbage (while gathering my garbage I managed to hit my head on the corner of the door and added a nice cut to my head to match my bruises and scratches left over form last week) and went to the store for Diet Coke and some food, but I haven't had much of an appetite so I didn't seem to really buy much. Mostly I have spent my time in bed reading, my Sheep, Moritz, by my side. In fact, in the last three days I have read over 670 pages, something I haven't been able to do since March of 2005. At the moment reading is the only thing I really feel like doing, it allows me to focus on problems that are not my own, something that I relish right now.

My time spent in Basel was split into three facets, talking about my mother's past with my grandparents, reading and then going to the carnival with Chung. By the time I got to my Grandparent's house my good feelings from the morning had worn off and I was left in a deep funk. Unfortunately for Chung, my melancholy mood played third wheel on our carnival excursion. None the less Chung cheered me up and I can recall laughing once or twice. She was very sweet given the state I was in, buying us Gluhwine and pointing out Crants and mullets. I left Chung at around seven, I was tired and wanted nothing more then to crawl into my twin bed at Grossi's and sleep off my mood. I woke up the morning not having realized that Switzerland had set it's clocks back for Daylight Savings. I left Grossi's soon after lunch and was in bit of a hurry to get back to my apartment and bask in solitude. By the time I finally got back I started to feel sick and got in to bed. I was thankful when it finally got dark out because I thought that maybe all I really needed to feel better was for the weekend to end, but seeing how sleep didn't come easily I just tossed and turned. When I finally did fall asleep all I could dream about was being on the run with Harry Potter. NEVER READ HARRY POTTER BEFORE BED. I was so tired but needed to wake myself in order to change dreams but there were no happy thought to latch on to so I opened my log and tried to read from my last entry only to find that June hadn't been a good month for me. I woke up at six this morning only to start reading again and did so until noon when I decided to take a nap. I tried to keep my mind out of where it has been but in reality I just felt like sulking the day away.

Thinking about it now, none of this makes for a very interesting blog, but I haven't been very interesting as of late. I also don't want to type what I really have on my mind because I have been flip-flopping all day. At one moment I am angry and the next I am sad. To many feelings, to much energy and too much time alone have turned me into what I am now, a whiny, self-absorbed, pile of mush. I tried going on a walk to straighten myself out but felt so sick five minutes in that I had to turn back and crawled back in to bed. Luckily Moritz was waiting.

And so now I just sit waiting for sleep to find me. I have school tomorrow, P.E. at the start of the morning and am actually glad to have a reason to not mope around my hole of an apartment. I hate feeling like this, I feel pathetic and lame, but it's the state of things. I hate feeling so much and it makes me miss The Haze for the simple reason that it allowed me to mute everything I feel. I am just antsy and anxious and I hate it. I miss being sedate and not thinking before I got to bed, this is just hard for me, but not the worst of my problems at the moment. I don't even want to think about any of it though, I just want to sleep and sleep and then maybe take a nap. I want to disappear into the woods and find a nice and cozy cabin and stay there for a very very long time, alone, away from what everyone thinks they know.

Ok, I am going to try this whole sleep thing again and hope it comes, I don't want to be awake any more, and I don't want to feel like this any more. Sorry this is so whiny and a downer, my mom keeps telling me to stop being so self-absorbed, but I wouldn't even know how.

Bitch Was Lucky She Didn't Get Smacked

Yesterday sucked, really, really, hard. Within the second hour at work I almost lost my shit. I take so much verbal and physical abuse, something that I am not happy about but take for the sake of my future. But here is my Boss’ daughter berating me for the stupidest thing (my not finding a piece of Brioche dough in the freezer) and not letting up. It was finally at her comment that “I am old enough” to find it. That’s when I was ready to punch her in chubby fucking face. She just kept going and going and even at one point my Boss told her to let up. I was shaking I was so mad, but I kept forming my Brioche and didn’t say anything. Atone point she complimented me on my Brioche, but then a moment later put her face right into mine and and said, “You don’t really like me today, do you?” My Boss was standing right next to me so I knew whatever I was about to say would mostly likely play a role in the next nine months. It was lame because what I wanted to say was, “Actually Bitch, I haven’t liked your fat ass since the day we met. You are subhuman to me, you are nothing, you’re family is nothing, you have made me life at times, and I wish nothing positive for your future. So, to answer you idiotic question, yes, I do not like you today, not get out of my face before I choke you with a Brioche.” But my sister sits in the back of my mind (she is my acting conscience, most of the time) and I changed my response to, “It doesn’t matter if I like you or not, I am here to learn and do my job, and not to be talked down to like a child.” That was it. It takes me so much to keep the fury in and not rip off the bitch’s face, but my Brioche came out perfectly and that was what was really important. That’s all I could give, but the rest of the day she was as sweet as sugar.

The rest of the day i was just tired and beat, literally. By the time I got home and got in the shower I noticed that I am covered with random scratches, welts, bruises and minor cuts I have been left with as memories from this week, baking is a dangerous business. Kind of looks like I was caught in some sort of street fight with a gnome. I spent my Friday evening watching The Office and a new episode of American Gangster. I turned the lights off at seven-thirty and didn’t feel too bad about it.

Skipper called me at around ten, I remember talking to her, but I don’t remember what I said, I was too out of it. It was just nice hearing her voice, all I had wanted the whole day was to be on the balcony, Cola Light in hand. Talking it all out, the whole day, the last two weeks, would have been able to put things in perspective, but it just wasn’t an option.

I am getting in the shower in a few minutes. I woke up at six and watched another episode of American Gangster and painted my nails. I haven’t had a morning like this in a while, one to just wallowing the dark and cold morning hours. It brings me back to last year. I am heading to Basel this morning, going to visit Grossi and Grossvati and go to Herbst Masse with Chung. Herbst Masse always makes me miss Dr. Sylvia. We have gone a couple times together and she always bought me a bratwurst and cotton candy, I miss that lady.

I hope everyone has a good and safe weekend.
I’m not proof-reading this because it’s the weekend.

Goodbye, Chronic

My thoughts are sparse. I finished off the last of the Dack this evening, and won't be purchasing anymore, for a while. It kind of sucks and I am not to stoked about it, but it's time. Just time. Too much time has been wasted of sitting in this desk chair staring at the walls. I am not mature enough to balance both, and when faced with the choice between The Haze or my future, well, I want money, so the Future it is.

There are some who are going to hate me writing about this, hate reading this, but I need to type this out, and seeing how this is my blog, I'll type what i like.

I have lived in The Haze for two solid years now, day after day. It was fine at first, but the hole I had been trying to fill had grown, after I had made a trip home for vacation. I started living alone and soon fell in to hibernation. The hole began to grow as opposed to shrink, as so many people had promised. It needed to be filled and The Haze filled it. Things were bearable, time passed! I had no reason to be awake and was fine not having to be. There was nothing I would smoke before, except church, I went to church with Skipper once and out of respect didn't smoke. But I thought about it.

I have an addictive personality, and that's not an excuse. I am not a good person when it comes to things like this. The Haze is nothing compared to the past, but it's just as bad. It's all about filling the hole.

Then I met my man, and the hole magically shrank. I had been lonely for a very long time and I had been looking for someone to ask me how my day was. I found someone I liked enough to maybe start considering the concept of sobriety. I'm not big on changing for other people and I wouldn't call my man the main cause, but he factors in, not to mention when I am with him (which is at the moment not an option) Dack isn't much of a thought.

My future plays the major role in my decision. I am going to be turning twenty-five in a couple months, and am nowhere near where I thought I would be, in fact if you told me this would be my life, living in Switzerland and baking cookies, I would have cried. Things are starting to get a bit more stressful and although I still have another nine moths, I have the feeling time is going to start to speed up. Often I have dreams about being put in situations I am unprepared for, I hate surprised, and if I don't stop smoking, well, I could potentially fuck up everything I have suffered for.

Lately when I go to bed, and I think of what I am thankful for and I think about what's wrong, I notice that the stress and frustration with not getting my shit done all has to do with this habit. It's a time suck, a motherfucking time suck, and I need time now. Good Lord, i shouldn't be posting this in a blog. But I hope by stating it, it will make it clear why future blogs won't be so hazed out.

TOTALLY not proof read, enjoy those typos!

The Color Purple (not the Oprah one)

Wait, I was just "surfin' the net" when I came upon a blog, properly titled, "The Purse Blog," a blog about purses. The latest entry starts with,

"Many of the handbag enthusiasts are raving about two things this season; patent leather and purple."

Now, if you have hung out with me in the last five months or so, you would have noticed my obnoxious purple bag (Pre-Paris purse) that I purchased for a solid fifteen francs ($12USD). I have taken a lot of shit for this bag, and would now like to say a hearty "F-U" to all the haters! I bought that bag FIVE MONTHS ago, way before this post, so chew on that!

So maybe you'll think twice for talkin' shit about my gold watch, The Chester and I might just be ahead of the game.

Goddamn, it feels so good to be right!


My purple bag, and my dirty Chucks.


Just you wait, The Chester wouldn't lie.

Running on Empty

Bare with me, I just don’t have anything to really say. It’s coming though; I have a weekend planned with Chung. God only know what could happen.

The Return of Small Pox

Hibernation has begun. I am sitting in bed, wearing Skipper’s over sized robe/sweater, waiting for it to rain. I haven’t left my apartment since I came home from work four hours ago, and don’t plan on leaving until it is time to go to work tomorrow morning.

I have spent the last four hours checking my e-mail (4 e-mails from my mother, father, mother and spam), watched three tv shows while doodling and filling out my recipe list for my practical exam, made and ate one of the best hamburgers I have ever had (I like to over salt my beef paddy), and am just about to write my man a long over due e-mail. It’s not much, but it is hibernation.

The only problem with hibernation is, I obviously don’t have a lot of outside blog material. This forces me to get creative and right now, I’m tired, and not all too creative. SO, although I have already gotten complaints from longtime blog readers about re-posts, they are going to just have to deal and continue you to love me because I know how they were able to “collect” so many rubber stamps.

Here is one of my all time favorites, taken from the original blog. Nothing like a blog before bedtime, I always say.


Small Pox

When I was twenty I took what little money I had, and walked in to the desert looking for the mind that I had lost.

College hadn’t worked out. I had wanted to be a graphic designer more then anything, but was finding out that it was for the wrong reasons. I wasn’t clear where my academic path was leading me, but I knew it was out of San Francisco.

So I packed a couple things, put on my sunglasses and started walking. My destination? The Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon is crazy. The fact that over billions of years the Colorado River just keeps cutting into the Earth like that is extraordinary. It’s desert all around and then the world just cracks open, ready to swallow you up.

It was the desert that had called to me first though. I had no idea what I was suppose to be doing with my life. Everything I had been planning for, the life I thought I was moving towards, had been wrong. As confused and stressed as I was I knew I had to get my shit together, and so I knew I had to get out and start walking.

I started towards San Jose, and that’s when I figured on going through the hills of Monterey down to Fresno, through Bakersfield, past the airplane graveyard to Barstow and then just took it easy, walking straight to The Grand Canyon. I had never been there before, and when I looked into the vastness of it I knew I was where I needed to be at that moment. It felt good. It felt good to be out of San Francisco and to just be by myself. To be by myself!

I took the little money I had and bought a second hand tent and a thick wool blanket from some Native Americans. (I could insert a Small Pox comment here, but I will spare you) I then made my way down into the canyon. Looking back it was pretty dangerous, but at that point in time I didn’t really give a fuck about anything. I made it down in one piece though and set up camp at the river’s edge. I pitched the tent and laid out my blanket, and then I got a fire going and cooked some hot dogs. The sky was clear, and it was hard to believe that so many starts could even fit into one sky.

I sat out long into the night, just trying to get my head straight and figure out what my next step would be. At first it didn’t come. I knew there were options but they wouldn’t be easy. I like easy, I like comfortable, and what was to come wouldn’t be any of that. So I sat there by the river and waited. At around four in the morning it hit me. The desert was far, but Switzerland was farther. That would be my next step. Who cared what I would do when I got there, I was desperate and this was a lot better then staying at home and going to the local community college until I finally figured my shit out. I needed distance, and I needed change, and more then anything I needed to figure out who I was.

I slept a few hours in the tent and then woke up and had another hot-dog. I packed my stuff up and climbed out of the canyon. As I stood on the edge of the western rim I thanked the canyon for what it had made clear to me. This had only been the preface to the adventure. This had just been the introduction. So, I grabbed my belongings, put my sunglasses back on, and started the walk back home. There were letters to write, and plane tickets to buy.

My Monkey Is A Winner

When I move back to America I want to either learn how to play the organ or the accordion. My grandmother back home owns both and I am signing up to inherit either one or the other.

I got the highest grade in my cake decoration class today. I deserved it, mine was better then the others. I made all of the kids aware of this fact, multiple times, verbally and then visually. I’m not going to even try to be humble about it, perfection is what it is.

A shout out to my lovely pony, Chung, for translating a paper for me for my Economics class. She somehow managed to not only translate my words from english to german flawlessly, but also was able to conserve the humor and wit in my words. Good work, Chung.

I am in a bit of an odd funk, Readers. I don’t know what to tell you, I am itching to disappear and hibernate without notice. To just fuck off for a few. Walk away from all the responsibility, the bitches and ho’s, monotony and emptiness of The Grind. To stick it to The Man. Something, just something.

God Damn Old People

I was in Basel for the weekend to visit my grandparents. It was a typical visit except for those five caipirinhas and the hangover that followed the next morning.

As I walked to the train station from my grandparents, I decided to take in the haze before my hour long journey home. I usually would just do it at the train station, but for some reason, decided to sneak into the back garden at the retirement home on the corner of Bahnhoffstrasse. I never would have thought to do it in that garden, but it was cold and foggy and still kind of early for a Sunday morning, so I figured I would be safe.

I took a place on a bench hidden from the main building by a couple of large bushes. I had my headphones in so I never heard the old man creep up behind me as I lit up. You can imagine the fear I felt for getting caught though, even by a man who looked to easily be in his eighties. I racked my brain for an excuse, a lie, I even thought to just get up and walk away, but then he sat down and told me to relax.

I could only sit there, I was speechless and my heart was racing, what could the consequence be? I felt like and idiot, what a typical “me” thing to do. Try to be a bit adventurous only to get caught. Crime was not meant for me.

The man introduced himself as Papa Franz, and asked me to pass him the pipe. He took out an old gold lighter and lit up. I just sat there, wondering if I might have actually lost my mind. I have witnessed some odd things in my twenty four years, but this was crazy. How did my life get to the point where I was hitting the haze with a man who insisted I call him “Papa Franz,” in the back garden of an old folks home? Papa Franz asked if I had any more on me, and I could only nod yes and hand over what I had.

He began to tell me how he had been suffering from sever headaches for the last week but that the doctors had no clue what was wrong with him. He talked about how he had a lot of family and friends who hadn’t wanted him to move into the home but that he had rather be able to decied his own fate, then have the decision be made for him. I understood the logic in that, but continued to just keep quiet.

He talked about the home, how he hated the smell, and how unfriendly the nurses were. He asked if I had grandparents, I said yes, that they were in their eighties and that I loved them very much. He asked their names but I gave him a fake name in case he decided to tell on me.

The old man continued to smoke, but I didn’t notice any difference. He went on to ask if I was scared to die, and it was then that he turned and looked me in the eyes. Never have I seen such a pair of brown eyes, they were clear and had a glittery touch of gold to them. I told him, no, that I wasn’t a friend of surprises and had only really thought to live until thirty. He chuckled heartily and called me a melodramatic liar. He said that any problems or bad feelings that I might have are of my own creation. Hadn’t I gotten exactly what I had wanted, if not more? Yes, I said, he was right.

He got up and patted me on the shoulder and told me to quit the haze, that it wasn’t helping me but only causing me to forget my purpose. This was fine, seeing how Papa Franz had just inhaled the last of my cake. Again he seemed to be right, god damn old people.

I watched as Papa Franz disappeared into the building, into the smell. I shook my head and kind of laughed, what does it all mean? I got up and swung my bags over my shoulder and went to catch my train.

Hibernation is in it’s beginning stages, get me while you can...

My Bad Hip

I have been experiencing my yearly dose of Fall hip pain. In honor of said pain, and in honor of the fact that this is a new blog, I am going to re-post from my MySpace blog. Sorry for those of you who have already read this!


Camp

No one ever believes me, but I have a hip problem.

Yes, I have a hip problem. Every single Fall is acts up and it's really painful. And every time I complain about it people laugh at me.

It all started when I went to D.A.R.E. "Star" summer camp the summer after 6th grad. Yes, D.A.R.E., "To Keep Kids of Drugs" summer camp. Even I hated me.

My sister and I weren't "summer camp" kids. We spent our summers in Europe or at the PCC swimming pool. So when I won an essay contest about "Why I Will Never Take Drugs,.. you could say I wasn't thrilled about the prize.

I begged my mom not to make me go. I hated being forced to hangout with other kids and not sleeping in my won bed. Even typing this right now, my chest tightens. I fucking hated the idea of having to go and for two weeks before, I would lay in bed just dreading it. And it's funny because there was another kid who had also ..won.. the essay contest and he would later be kicked out of his high school for trying to strangle another student with a telephone cord in class.

Anyway, I got on that forsaken bus and went to ..camp... It was a Boy Scouts camping ground. We brought our own tents and ate in a cafeteria. It was four days, and I was homesick the whole time. I remember that I started keeping my first book out of the misery that I felt there. It blew.

So, one day we are ..allowed.. to swim in their tragic cement hole that they called a pool. I jump in and swim a couple laps when I feel a ..click.. in my right hip. I swam to the side and got out and was in an insane amount of pain. I went to the camp doctor, who wasn't a doctor and they said they didn't know what was wrong, and so I had to sit out all the physical activities. Now I have never been the sporty type. I just don't get it. I don't know why you would want to go running when you can just take diet pills. Seriously. Beach Volleyball, Soccer, Tennis, Basketball, all spell EMBARRASSMENT to me. But at the same time, who wants to be the sick kid at camp?

Sure enough on the last night of camp there was a big Capture the Flag game the encompassed the whole camp, and each team had to go and find where the other team had hidden the flag on their side of the camp.
I sat on the bench between both sides with the rest of the cripples and losers. On that bench I thought to myself, ..if this is what not taking drugs gets you, I wonder what TAKING drugs must be like...

Every Fall I get the most wretched pain in my hip and I think about the embarrassment and humiliation and the loneliness of that god forsaken camp.

I got the pain for the first time today at work. I came home and smoked some weed and the pain went away. That's what D.A.R.E. camp gave me.

Blowup

I can’t believe this! I just went to my purse to fetch some Rahmen noodles I bought for dinner when I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye.

I can see right into the apartments in the complex across the street, and so it doesn’t even take the use of binoculars to get a full view of my neighbor’s lives. The is overflowing with colorful characters, but the man who lives in the apartment directly across from mine has always seemed mildly normal. There was one incident when he first moved in where I caught him walking around his apartment naked, but for the most part it seems we are rarely home at the same time.

I got home around six though today, about two hours later then I usually do. I have had to go to a candy/chocolate/decorating course for the last two days and didn’t get out until around five. From school I went on the fruitless search of finding a Skype compatible web cam, but came up empty handed and then got the above mentioned Rahmen (which is cooking right now, I am trying the “prawn” flavor for the first time).

So, it was as I was reaching into my purse for my noodles when I spotted the blowup doll in my neighbor’s window. At first I couldn’t believe it, then it made me think “This is a blog,” and I went back to my desk to get my camera.

I took a couple pictures through my blinds and then opened up my word processor in order to write the blog. It was as I started to boil the water for my noodles that I opened my blinds back up, and was greeted by a SECOND blowup doll. It was only then that I noticed that the first blowup doll had been male and this second one was female. The male is dressed in a jersey and yellow basketball shorts, and the female is dressed in skimpy red top, they seem to buy their clothes at Migros.

Even as I type this I can see the two dolls staring into my apartment, mouths gaping. It’s erie now because it has gotten dark outside and all the lights in the apartment are on so the dolls almost seems to glow. Like some sort of pervy, life-size diorama.


I can’t help but just sit here and be amused by the whole thing.

Here are the pictures I took through my blinds, just to prove I am not joking.


At first it was just the one...


...but he was soon joined by another.

Monday Mind Vomit

I’m sitting here in my desk chair sucking on the last of Skipper’s marinated Nupro, and it feels like tonight just might be the night to bring back Monday Mind Vomit.

Let’s see how far I get, shall we?

I’m listening to Brainfreeze, a twenty five minute scratch-off between DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist, it’s just a nice funk flavor to it, and it feels good, the right way to end a bullshit day.

My Sister recently MySpaced me, asking what she should be for Halloween. She takes Halloween seriously, it’s easily her favorite holiday, has been since we were kids. She use to make an adorable black sheep, and as the years went on, got only more creative and detailed with her costumes. By far her Oompa Loompa costume from Halloween 2003 was her best. She made such a good Oompa Loompa that upon seeing a picture, some people have actually thought she was a dwarf.
Here are the ideas I have come up with and I invite you to share your own suggestions as well, I have a feeling she needs some help.

1. Wendy from Wendy’s/Pippy Longstockings (She might as well use her red hair for something).

2. A fish stick (I came up with this about fifteen minutes ago as I made dinner).

3. Creed, from The Office (because he’s cool).

4. Our mother (because Dr. Sylvia has got some flavorful style and would be most likely willing to help her with her costume).

5. Me.

I started buying six-packs of Coke Light, I don’t even like Diet sodas, I rather get the sugar and full-bodied flavor of my beverage, but I miss Skipper and so I keep drinking this shit.

When I got home from school today, I was sitting at my desk when I heard the sound of something buzzing around my room. My window was closed, and I got worried that maybe a fly had flown into my room and I hate flies. I opened the window back up and didn’t hear any more buzzing so I pretty much forgot about it. It was only when it came time to lace up my Chucks that I noticed a FAT beetle sitting on the rim of my left shoe. Beetles are far worse then Flies. Surprisingly I didn’t freak out, I just picked up my shoe and shook it out the window. My Chucks are no place for wild life, I was doing it a favor really. The beetle would however not let go and after quite a bit of violent banging against the window the sonofabitch finally let it’s death grip go and fell six stories to it’s death or flew away. This is all due to my neighbor’s refusal to cut back the weeds in front of his living room window that have now pushed their way over to mine, allowing all sorts of insects and pollen to come over and hangout at my place. I am starting to hate my neighbor more and more, and find myself fantasizing about ways of getting him back for all of his late night parties and lack of garden maintenance.

I ran into someone today on the street that I don’t particularly like and who I can easily say I have talked a good deal of shit about. Upon seeing this person though, I took my ear buds out and actually said hi and asked how the person was doing. I can imagine this person doesn’t care too much for me either, but somehow we both smiled and joked and then parted with a wave. It might have been fake, but some how it made me feel better about the reasons behind the animosity. Funny how shit like that works.

This week smells funk and it is only Monday, am I the only person feeling this way? I have a three day weekend coming up, maybe that’s what it is? That’s the thing about long weekends or even half days, you get so excited about having the time off, that the week or day actually seems to go on for ever, longer then if I actually had to work the weekend or put in the full nine hours. Time is a tricky bitch, but I like it, so I continue wearing a flash watch.

I set three alarm clocks to wake me up. I don’t really need an alarm to wake me up, I have the annoying habit of always waking up fifteen minutes before I need to, and then not being able to fall back to sleep. I actually have never been late for work, seriously, I have NEVER over slept and I have to get up at around three or five depending on the day. I think it’s just the security, not to mention I do like to brag about never being late (I am now knocking on wood).

One of the things I like about living in Europe is the magazine selection. I have a thing for independent art/street style/graffiti/subculture/design magazines. Berlin for some reason puts out the best, Street Wear Monthly, and Lowdown are some of my personal favorites. They are both printed on heavy-high-quality-matte-finish stock, which is just a beautiful thing. I like to go to the Kiosk next to Inter Discount, in the basement of the train station and look at what’s new. They are usually a month or two behind, but I don’t always have the ten or twelve francs to one anyway. When I do buy a copy though I try to make good use of it. I have actually covered my bathroom door and kitchen cabinets with cut outs from both publications and they look pretty bas-ass.

I feel ok right now, like all is right in my world, which is probably one of the most frightening things to feel. Isn’t it always the moment where things feel right that life throws flaming bag of shit at you? I am trying to think positive though, so maybe tomorrow really could be fantastic?

A shout out to Professional Gun for taking the time to set up this blog exactly as I wanted it. Thank you. I am sorry I gave you so much shit, and you were right, this seems to be a much better place for my blog.

Paris: Part Le Deux

So let’s get back to Paris,...

We woke up last Saturday to gray skies and a chilly wind, Fall had begun in Paris. Chung and I got up and put pants on and went to the basement of the Kyriad Clichy to enjoy our complimentary breakfast. There was a sign in the elevator stating that the hotel would, “Waken us gently with a hearty breakfast.” From the moment that Chung translated the PrintShop Deluxe masterpiece, I wondered how true to their word they would be. I haven’t been “gently woken” in, well, my life time. Just the thought of it made me wonder, “who the hell gets gently woken anyway and how can I get in to their bed?” If Kyriad Clichy was going to make such a claim, I was going to make them put their money (in this case a chocolate croissant) where their (in this case, my mouth) mouth was. Simply said, the Kyriad Clichy is all talk. The croissant was a little more then lack luster and their artificial sweetener was very questionable. We ate quickly and went back up to our room to shower.

Our bathroom had just been redone and it was nice to get a warm shower and blow out my fro. Chung’s Chucks were still quite wet so I dried them for her after I had finished with my locks. That’s what I call friendship.

Our first stop was the Champs Elysees, or what I like to call, Paris’ Strip Mall. It was morning, and still kind of crisp as we walked up towards the Arc de Triumph. The Champs Elysees is know for it’s shopping but Chung and I weren’t all too impressed.

The Arc de Triumph is more a testament to insane driving then anything else. There are no lanes and it is just one big roundabout, it looks like one big free for all for tiny french cars. We crossed the street and went in to a couple stores but were just disappointed.

My parents had wanted to buy Chung and I lunch at Laduree, a very old and famous pastry shop/restaurant. Laduree is amazing, the epitome of french baking and having them want to buy us lunch was not only generous but just really nice. They however weren’t serving lunch, they were serving brunch and Chung and I had only just begun shopping and needed something substantial. We left Laduree, promising to come back for breakfast the next day and went to a bistro around the corner.

The bistro was crap and it was obvious from the moment we walked in. Chung ordered a large salad and I made the grave mistake of ordering a steak. I LOVE steak, steak, salad and french fries, nothing better. My steak came, and it was burnt and my fries were thick in nature. I was disappointed but Chung and I ate and left. It was probably only about twenty minutes though before my stomach started to hate on me. Fuck you, Bistro!

My stomach luckily calmed it’s self and Chung and I continued our shopping tour of Paris. I had mentioned I was looking for a new purse for this up coming Fall/Winter season and thanks to Chung’s trained eye, I gave up a good $80, but gained a sweet piece of arm candy. Well, maybe not candy, it’s black, and could house a baby or small armadillo comfortably.

After our time on the Champs Elysees we headed over to the Eiffel Tower. It turned out to be a beautiful Fall day, with the leaves changing color and a slight breeze as we walked down perfectly Parisian streets. It was nice, yet hurtful looking at all the amazing apartments that we will most likely never get the chance to live in.

There isn’t much to say about our time at the Eiffel Tower, it was what it was. It’s bigger then you might think, I’ve seen it three times now and am still kind of surprised at it’s size. We didn’t go up to the top because there was a two hour wait and it costs as much as a pair of cheap heels. We headed for the Metro, next stop Les Galleries Lafayette.

Les Galleries Lafayette is one of the largest department stores in the world, bigger then Harrods. It is HUGE and even I find myself overwhelmed upon entering it. I don’t recall how many stories it has, but it’s massive. It houses not one building, but three; Women’s, Men’s and House Wear, all kitty-corner to each other. We entered the Women’s store and barely saw half of the ground floor. It was PACKED, not just with people but with a vast assortment of merchandise. We made our way through accessories, jewelry and hand bags, not even getting anywhere close to shoes, let alone clothes. What was really cool though was that in Cosmetics they had a stage set up with a jazz band and two dancers performing. There were two make-up artists making two innocent tourists up as whores, and all of this was just for the arrival of M.A.C.’s Fall palette.

We made our way over to the Men’s store, I was looking for a scarf for my man, when we heard some yelling. It turned out that the store had actually got a group of male models to act as rugby players, staging a game in the middle of the accessories section. We didn’t find anything but some played out Burberry so we headed out and were met by a crowd of women huddled in front of the store window. It seems that the “rugby players” had headed into the window display, which was set up as a locker room, and they were “getting ready to hit the showers.” It was hilarious and I couldn’t stop laughing. Talk about French! My favorite of the models had to be the guy who had a small circle tattooed around his belly button with two thin rams horns sticking out. Talk about a Tattoo. I have seen some odd/sad tattoos while over here in Europe, but NOTHING like this sweet piece of artistry. I dragged Chung away from the window but not without catching a smile from Navel Ram Horn (as I named my new found, rugby-model friend).

Chung and I had to go pick up some tea for Dr. Sylvia and then soon headed home to Kyriad Clichy. On the way to the Metro there was a street team putting up signs for the new Bakar album that was suppose to drop the next day. I told Chung stories of my time growing up with Bakar, down on the block. She was greatly amused by my tale and it some how made our trip home a bit quicker, or so I like to believe.

We got back to Clichy and went back to the hotel to drop off our loot. We had been shopping for ten hours at this point and had already decided that regardless of how we might be judged, we were getting ourselves some Le Petite Chicken Sandwiches from the McDonalds pimps and heading back for some French tv. Chung made us go into the local grocery store, Casino, for fruit.

As a rule Chung carries fruit with her at all times. It’s either an apple, four nectarines, some grapes or if in season maybe a bag of cherries. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but the girl doesn’t seem to be able to travel without a pound of fruit on her. Casino was amazing though. There is NO better way to get to know a country then looking at where they buy there everyday items (I highly suggest looking at the pre-made meal section). There was all sorts of crazy shit in there, bottled fish soup, crepes, mini-shot cans of Coke, everything, it was awesome.

After a bag of grapes, three packs of gum, some ice tea, and one of the mini Cokes, we headed for our McBistro of choice.

The Pimps were in their suits, suede shoes and all, and our Le Petite Chicken Sandwiches were hot and ready. We walked back to Kyriad Clichy and after waiting about five minutes before they let us in (shady-ass Receptionist who had given us the wrong room key earlier, must have been boozing in the basement because she smelled a bit Funk). We headed up to our room and fell asleep watching the Scotland vs. Italy Rugby match.

We woke up the next morning, packed our stuff and headed straight to Laduree for chocolate croissants and coffee. Breakfast was fine, the coffee was amazing, the service was crap. We went and did a bit more shopping, but seeing as it was a Sunday not much was open. We searched and searched for a Starbucks, so Chung could get her sister a mug, but believe it or not, and I was really shocked by this, we couldn't find one. We headed over to the train station, got some food and boarded our TGV back to Basel, and that was Paris.

I missed my first train back to Luzern by minutes, so Chung was nice enough to get some Blackberry juice with me across the street at Frey’s. Afterward we hugged, made plans to go to Herbst Masse in a couple weeks and said good bye.





A true friend will blow-dry your Chucks for you.


Chung, looking like a communist.


Strutin' Paris.



Can't you just feel Chung's excitement sitting under the Eiffle tower?


Like I need to explain this one.


Navel Ram Horn and his "mates."


Back to the Kyriad Clichy!

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