Undestroyable Toy

When you have a dog that you need to leave at home all day while you're at work, you need to keep it entertained. Mine being a hyperactive chewing one, i went to the supermarket for pets (yes, they do exist in Europe) and bought her an undestroyable ball ... well ... what i THOUGHT was an undestroyable one.

Well apparently, they don't have the kind of dog i have back there. Or maybe they have softer teeth. Or not as much strength.

This is what the ball looked like after one hour of Niki's chewing on it ...

Now it is not that i really care about the ball itself ... but come on, i'm buying it to entertain my dog so she doesnt destroy my plants and/or chew on them and this is what i end up with:

A massive mess to clean ... I hate this toy, i hate this ball. It is a bloody mess. And that's without talking about the bruises i got for being on the receiving side of Niki's pitching.

Let's just hope she doesnt lay teeths on MY toys :p

Interlude

After having written such an impacting post ... ok that doesn't sound like a good start. How could i say this? Well the "letter" i wrote in my previous post provoked a lot of commotion amongst the people who read my blog. "Oh my god it was so beautiful, i wanted to cry / you made me cry / i almost cried (chose option)". So, to all of you readers, thank you very very much for the good comments on this one, hopefully i'll keep you, if not as moved, at least as entertained with the posts to come in the future. And no, i am not funnier than anybody else, those things really happen to me. I swear (and i must admit, sometimes, it is pathetic). Laughing about it is the best! Making people laugh about it is even better ;)

Now to you Babe, my Love, my Heart, this previous post was made for you and you only. I so wanted to shout out loud what i feel about you that writing it here was the closest to screaming it on top of my lungs to everybody or publishing it all over the internet (still haven't ruled this one out though so keep your eyes open!)

Soooo, kinda hard to keep this intensity up now. What did i get myself into? Anyway ... Now that everything has been cleared up and that the record has been set straight, i can slide back to a lighter note ...

Wondering though ... how come funny, incredible, weird things only happen to me when i'm away from work ?? I'm sure something will come out ... eventually ... So stay tuned for some more amazing story telling of myself in action! (i really should consider putting on a cape and a mask, some people may recognize me in the streets now and know i'm the one always going through dumb-ass-please-kill-me-now situations ... oh well, if that keeps them entertained ...)
Le ridicule ne tue pas ... il distrait ...

From Me To You

We met quite a while back now, between two banging doors, in a split second during which we barely exchanged 3 words. You said later that you noticed me right away, I didn’t. Was it pure luck when I accepted your request on Messenger that afternoon? I had no clue who you were but was in good spirits that day and thought, oh well, yes, sure, why not? After we chatted 5 hours straight that very first night, I had a feeling I had bumped into something very special. Someone very special. I started getting a total addict to my computer, checking every single second I had a chance to see if you were online, to experience the pleasure of chatting with you over and over and over again. It was better every time. I got to the point I NEEDED to speak to you. That’s when you said you were leaving. For who knows how long.

6 months have past. 6 months during which, we’ve spoken to each other every single day. 6 months during which I have grown more and more convinced that you are that special person in my life. That special person that everybody needs and wants in its life. How lucky was I?

When I finally got the opportunity to see you again in person, I was a nervous wreck. Didn’t sleep nor eat for days, dreading the moment we will be face to face again. I knew things would go on fine but what was awaiting me on the other side of the world went beyond all my wildest dreams. It was like Christmas morning, only better.

After I had waited so long, you were finally standing before me. Everything I ever wanted in a man, you have it. Everything. You make me feel like the owner of the universe, like nothing can go wrong anymore. With you, I can be myself, without cheating, without lying. It seems that there is nothing you can say or do that can make me feel bad. Being around you has been my biggest privilege. It made me realized that never in my life, someone ever completed me this well. You are simply the missing piece of the puzzle of my life. Can’t you see how well you fit in? Can’t you see this spot was made for you?

You’re the most amazing person I have ever met and the way I’m feeling about you is stronger than anything I have ever felt before. Being around you and spending time with you just gave sense to my life. Knowing that my heart doesn’t only belong to me now is the most amazing feeling I’ve ever experienced. It’s not that I can’t live without you but life doesn’t seem to mean anything without you around. I was a happy person before I met you and now I’m ecstatic. I walk around smiling like a complete idiot all the time just because I can’t stop smiling anymore. I can’t stop because I think about you every second that pass and the simple thought of you makes me happy.

I know there will be some trying times to come. But I’m not scared of it anymore. Because I had a strong feeling we were meant for each other, now I’m simply sure of it. The heart doesn’t lie and mine has been shouting on top of its voice for quite a while now … you’re the one!

I love you.

Leven Als God In Frankrijk

How clearer could it be ??? I mean HOW clearer could it be if even the DUTCH got it right away ?? Oh yeah, for those of you, like me (jaja) who don't speak dutch fluently, it means "happy like God in France". Tantantan!

HAPPY LIKE GOD IN FRANCE ...

So now we do know something ... that God does take some time off (if i can allow myself a little comment on that part, considering how shitty the state of the world has been, maybe He should reconsider that part ... even though we all agree that we all need some time off every now and then) and that out of ALL the countries there is to chose from, He chose FRANCE. Even if we've been elected (for the 3rd year in the row - aren't we proud) the WORSE tourists there is. Of the world. We're the worst. Well, apparently, God Almighty doesn't seem to think so ... It must be the croissants ... or the cheese ... no no ... the bread. Oh my, french bread ... I could kill for french bread right this second. Crispy out-of-the-oven baguette with butter. I will have that please. What do you mean it's not on the menu? Listen mr-waiter-i-know-the-menu-by-heart-and-baguette-and-butter-is-not-on-it, i am french so i'm supposed to be a complete pain in the ass of a tourist, a champion at it on top of that, even though i live abroad i still own a french passport thus still own my crown of a pain in a butt get me my baguette and butter and period.

Non mais. On va pas se laisser emmerder non plus, c'est quoi ce bordel?

Anyway ... back to our topic ... back to the dutch. Yeah well, god and the french were not really the topic i wanted to talk about initially. jaja. I wanted to talk about the dutch. Well, duh, the title is in dutch. What were you expected? A short piece about the french? Naaaa! What for? We're the worse there is. For a lot of things. But we thing we're the best. And so proud of it all too! And now we have a president with a Napoleon complex who married a giraffe. But that's another story.

So back to the dutch. They make good bread too you know. Obviously not as good as we do but hey, in Europe, they're as close to good as they can be. And their croissants too ... Uf ... Ok, enough food torturing memories, i am completely digressing from the topic here.

I once read - or maybe someone told me - that in Europe, the dutch are the happiest people there is, that they have the lowest suicide rate in the entire community. I know you're all gonna say that duuuuh, they have legalized marijuana in 1976 (yes i studied my topic jeje) that's why they're happy little fellows ("little" being an understatment since most of them are sky high people!). Well maybe a joint help not being depressed and help to be happy (i have my doubts about that but maybe i'm digressing again) but i think the main reason dutch people are happy is this:

Oh yeah. Bicycle. THE dutch bicycle. In french, a bicycle has a nickname, it's called "la petite reine", the little queen. Hell yeah. The dutch have a queen, they ride a little queen, what more can you say. So in my opinion, THIS is the reason why the dutch are so happy. Believe me or not but in the street, you dont see traffic jam with cars, you see bikes everywhere. At the train station there is a car park for bikes only (not too sure it's called a bike park ...). They have traffic lights for bikes, special lanes for bikes, special parking spots for bikes, special roads and streets JUST for bikes, special equipment for bikes. It's shinny? people are biking. It's raining? people are biking. You're young? you're biking. You're old? you're biking (when you're too old, you ride your motorized wheelchair on the bike lanes). You go to work? you're biking. You go to the movie? you're biking. You go pick up someone on a date? you're biking on your tandem bike. You're skinny? you're biking. You're fat? well you're not dutch but try to look like one (and you're miserably failing at it since dutch are not fat) You have a baby? you're biking. You have a dog? you're biking. It's just amazing. Amazing and awesome.

And i'm telling you, they're happy biking. But i mean REALLY happy. I have been there, i have checked every single person (but i mean EVERY SINGLE PERSON) riding a bike and they're all smiling. ALL of them. I didnt see one single exception. And on top of that, they smiled at me too! Like they were telling me "hey, stop walking, hop on a bike and enjoy a fun ride".

Well i didnt ride any bike cuz my ride was more fun than any bike ... But i am convinced now that biking is one (if not THE one) path to happiness.

I wonder how good they're doing at the Tour de France!

Not Too Sure About It All

Being stuck overnight in an airport is not always pleasant ... Of course, when the airline company who cancelled your flight last minute arranges for an accomodation in the Westin hotel of Dallas Fort Worth, well, that kinda make it up for it ... So i don't complain. I don't seem to be able to complain anymore anyway, i'm just so happy (but maybe that's another story).

There is something about airports. There is so much time to kill, so much nothingness to do. Why do they ask us to arrive 3 hours prior to time departure goes beyond my understanding. But i must say, viva the 21st century and wireless internet everywhere you go. That's MY way of killing time. That and people watching. Oh i love people watching. Train stations and airports are the best for that. You see everything and anything, people from all over the world, wearing all kind of outfits, all color, all age. It's just a snapshot of the world. You also see happy people, crying people, sad people, people who obviously want to leave, people who obviously don't ... And a lot more too!

Well this very morning, i was patiently waiting for my flight back home in DFW. All of the sudden, people around me started clapping. Ok, let's put it in a better way, they started a STANDING OVATION, clapping and cheering and wistling ... I am not really a nosy gossipy person but when the entire airport is standing up and cheering, i had to investigate what was going on ...
At first i thought it might be a wedding ... People do crazy things these days. Where did you guys get married? Oh, in Dallas Fort Worth Airport. Waouh! Weeeeird! JAJA. But no ... It actually took me a while to see what was going on and understand who the standing ovation was directed to. I finally find out ...

And there you go:

Soldiers ...

Soldiers coming back from Irak or from somewhere else at war ... an entire plane of them. As my title said ... i am really not too sure about all this ... What to think, what to make of it. One thing is certain though ... American people really are a "race" apart.

Wonder how many of them didnt make it back :(

On Feeling Stupid in Your Own Country :s

As i said already, i'm a french girl living in Mexico. And i am telling you, i am so used to live there that i tend to lose track of where i'm coming from initially. I don't speak french there, only english and spanish and this is not being snob for me to constantly search for my words when i go visit friends and family back to the country i used to call "home". Point made.

When i got there on a monday, my lil'bro took care of me. I didn't even have to go outside buy a baguette (i left my stripped marinière shirt at home so couldnt possibly go anyway!!!). So when i booked my train ticket online and paid with my expiring french credit card, i felt like the queen of the world. Euros? No big deal at all!

Upon arriving to the train station, i had to go pick up my ticket at the counter and they ask for my card again, just to make sure i hadnt found it on the street and used it to pay my tickets and splurge online ... That's when the guy on the other side of the counter told me "dial your code please". My code? What do you mean? Say that again? Your code!! The 4 digit code of your card! Oooooh, oh yeah, hum, what? Code? Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck i don't have the bloody code i never use the damn card!
Sir i dont have the (bloody) code i'm afraid :s but i already paid online just print the ticket and hop! listo! Ah, you need a hard copy of the card and my code to do that? Well it expired yesterday anyway so what's the point? Print the damn ticket for crying out loud i paid for it and my train leaves in 12 minutes.
Well the guy most probably thought i was extremely limited or just plain stupid and after complaining not even discretly, he started the cancelation procedure to charge it on my mexican card. When i handled him my card, he told me, please sign here. Hold on, you're not gonna ask me the code on this one? No, because i know it! This card i know the code. Come on. Mmm. As soon as i signed up the receipt he told me: your train leaves in 6 minutes. Get going! If you miss it come back to see me (embarrassment #1).
He must have hated me since he gave me a seat with someone already sitting on it. So i did it the mexican way and sat on someone's else seat that nobody ever came to claim :)

Since i have cash on my french card, i'd rather use this one here to avoid big taxes ... But i still dont know the damn code. So i went to my bank to withdraw cash at the counter ... the lady told me: you do have a credit card to withdraw money directly at the ATM, so you dont have to queue here (embarrassment #2). Yeah thank you i KNOW that. I just cant remember the bloody damn code so it's basically a plastic rectangle that i have no use of (embarrassment #3 - i thought this kinda crap only happened to old people, well apparently not).
She kindly said that no problem, she'll re-edit the code for me and i'll receive it in a few days. Cool. In the meanwhile, she did gave me another card and told me, with this one you can withdraw right now at the ATM. Ah ok. I looked at the card, there's nothing written on it, just looks like a hotel card to turn on the lights and i headed to the ATM, skeptical. How does this crap work? I mean i still dont know the code! And she didnt give me any. That's when she shouted through the bank's lobby telling me: just put the card in the ATM, it's already pre-set! (and i swear i managed to read in her eyes: you dumb ass, with everybody else's looking at me with that same "you dumb ass" eyes ... Embarrassment #4).

It's when i go to a store that things get tricky. Especially at the cashier. There you go miss, it's 8 euros and 42 cents. I have never lived in Europe since the euro was introduced so i have no freaking clue. I use US dollars and Mexican pesos but i dont know why, euros seem more complicated to me. Go figure. So here i am, a french citizen, speaking next to perfect french with the people around and struggling to sort out the coins. So when the lady, after a few seconds of surprise (she probably thinks i just got out of jail and forgot how money works) helps me saying "the big white coin is 2 euros and you should also use a grey bill of 5 euros), the little remaining pride i have is going down the drain in a split second ... Embarrassment #5.

I went to visit my cousin, my mom lent me her car. Gaz tank being empty, i stopped at the gaz station ... And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Damn it aren't they slow. Then a car stopped at the pump next to me and the guy driving it looked at me weird but asked "are you ok?" Well no i am not ok where is the guy to fill up my tank? He told me, well, here, you'll have to do it yourself. Damn it, really ? (embarrassment #6). Yep, he said, you put your card in the machine and go help yourself. Holy crap, haven't done that in 10 years, i had forgotten :s

I opened the gaz thingy and then i don't know why, i couldnt open the second one inside. I was turning it right than left and nothing. It was exactly like something turning on itself but not opening. Where is the guy at the other pump? Damn it he left already. So i waited and waited some more for another car to pull in. I felt great when i saw a car pulling in with 2 guys in. Perfect. Hmm, excuse me sir, i can't seem to open my gaz lid, could you help me? (embarrassment #7). He laughed. The bastard LAUGHED. And he asked me if i had just woken up. And he showed me, see, it's like the medicine boxes with a protection for the kids, you need to push then turn. Well i've never managed to open anything with kid's protection, that's probably why ... (embarrassment #8). So with the lid open, i checked on the screen what was to be done next: please insert your code. Oh dear. Again? I got it now, just received it yesterday. Damn it what was it again? Oh yeah. Fuck, what a pressure! "PLEASE WAIT" ... code correct. Woohoo. What a relief. I was so excited to have dialed my code properly that i almost forgot to check what was next. Select your gaz. Unleaded. Jeez, unleaded 95 or 98. WTF? What do i know. Back home we only have one. The other one is super. It's red or green. Not green or green. Hmmmm, shit, ok 95. I hope it's the good one i hope it's the good one i hope it's the good one. And then you know the machine is super vicious ... After i've selected the unleaded 95, she wrote: you have selected unleaded 95. Are you sure? Fuck no, i'm not sure, now i'm doubting even more. Can't you know which one my car needs? Damn it. Yes i am sure (not i'm not). Ok then they tell you go help yourself (when i wanted to tell her something way ruder!!). And then my good samaritan at the pump next door (who had finished his filling in no time since he knows how this thing works), asked me: "you're gonna be ok to close the lid or do you need another hand for that?" Bastard (embarrassment #9).

Well, maybe that's enough embarrassment for the day ... Reason why i decided to locked myself inside. No i dont want to see anybody, i dont want to use my card anymore nor paying anything. Can someone be 100% in charge of my poor little self? Like when i was 5 years old? Cuz it's exactly the way i've been feeling since i got here ...

Le Coup de la Panne

Traffic in Paris is insane. It's always been and will always be. And in the summertime, with insane heat to deal with and no AC, it's simply crazy. So when my brother and i had to go visit relatives in the suburbs, we were like, hum, euh, weeeell ... Motivation on level zero.
That's when i thought about the evidence ... why don't we take your motorbike? Hell yeah, what a great idea!

So off we go, on the bike. Traffic is insane in Paris but second place regarding insanity is going to traffic lights! Jeez there is one every 100 meters. It's crazy! So even though taking a moto to get there WAS a good idea at first, after 3 minutes, i didn't think it was a good idea anylonger. My brother's bike doesn't have handles for the passengers so i had to hold myself against the gaz tank. Needless to say that after 5 minutes of braking, i couldn't feel my shoulders, nor my elbows, nor my wrists, let alone my fingers. So yeah, not so pleasant of a ride (20 minutes ride).

The second we headed back, there were already lines and lines of traffic, hundreds of cars back to back not really moving forward at all and it was so nice to be zig-zag-ing in between them all - ok i must admit i closed my eyes every single time my brother was doing that, i always had the feeling my knee would hit a side mirror - but it's really exciting to realized that, jeez, all those people stuck in traffic for hours and you just pass them all in no time!

Then 2 exits from arriving, right in the middle of the 2 lines and crazy traffic of the A86 (one of Paris's worst and busiest beltway), the moto stopped. Like stopped. Nothing. No ignition. Nothing. NO-THING.

WHAT do you do when you're stopped, on a bike, on a highway, in the middle of the bloody road? What the bloody hell do you DO?

Well apparently, it's nothing freaky for my lil'bro ... As cool as a cucumber, he took us to the shoulder lane like if it was the most natural thing to happen, got me off the bike and told me, half pissed off half laughing ... "we ran out of gaz".
What? WHAT? WHAAAAAAT? Out of gaz? Don't you have a gauge to tell you that? Didn't you know that it was going to happen? Fuck ... Average survival time on the shoulder lane of a french highway: 20 minutes. So get your helmet off, your jacket, your gloves and let's get our asses going, i'm really not too fond of the idea of getting ran over on holidays.

After 10 minutes pushing the bike, which let's admit it, it's easier and lighter than a car, and after realizing that all the advantage we got by slaloming between cars and trucks was down the drain, we started laughing and laughing and laughing (still on the highway) at this completely oh-so-stupid situation we got ourselves in!

10 liters of sweat later, finally made it to a gaz station, got ourselves a little gaz drum and headed back home ... 2 hours after we took off, instead of 20 minutes ... Yeah, well, not so much of a plus a motorbike in Paris !! End of it all, it took us longer than by car!

God Save the Queen

I had a bad feeling about this flight ... to start with. 1h10 minutes to get my connection flight in Dallas was not enough and i knew it. I just KNEW it. They can say whatever they want to try to quiet me down, 70 minutes is not enough and period. The guy at the check-in counter told me: "don't worry, going through immigration in Dallas will take you 45 minutes at the most". Yeah, right, like how many time have you been to Dallas Mr Know-it-all? I have more stamps of Dallas airport in my passport than anybody here. So trust me, i KNOOOOOW, it is so not happening in 45 minutes.

The funny thing about having bad feelings about stuff is that you tend to see signs everywhere. So commercials of the LATE night show WAS a clear sign. I honestly felt nauseous the entire flight, with a pounding headache that a screaming kid surely didn't help (just helped me realized that duck tape is a necessary item to travel with on long courrier flights).
We actually arrived early and for that they told us that we will be taking a BUS to get to the terminal. There you go for another squillion shots of adrenaline in my veins (but not the good one, more like the kind that make you feel positively SICK).
Getting off the plane, walking in the alley, was an oooooold lady taking forever. I honestly foresaw the moment i would kick her aside to pass her - like the entire universe is standing on my path to make me late and miss my flight. So after a few moments that felt like a million years, the fossile decided to park her old self on the side and i ran like i've never ran before. Like my life was hanging to a string (ok, maybe not my life but my sanity and my nerves were definitely hanging to a pretty damn thin string). When i got to the immigration hall, i almost died of a heart attack on the spot - guess it would have been pretty messy you know, i am not officially in the US but not really in Mexico either, a french citizen, yeah, that would have been quite a mess. So trying to recover from the heart attack i so nearly had, i went straight to this i-look-official lady to whom i said, i have a really really short connexion and a flight leaving in 30 minutes, is there anything i can do to go through here quicker? I guess i wasnt agressive enough; or dramatic enough, or scary enough cuz she looked at me from her meter and a half height with such a disgusted look on her face and pointed me to the end of the queue where everybody is waiting to pass in front of an immigration officer. And i was the very last person of a snaky-looking queue of 300 meters long. Which means 3 things: a) i have around 400 people IN FRONT of me, b) i am going to stand in line for around 2 hours and most important c) i am missing my flight A HUEVO.

Since missing my flight was definitely NOT an option, i asked out loud if people could let me pass in front of them and they all looked at me as if i was asking the craziest stuff ever, some of them turning their head for fear of me being contagious or something, others looking at me like i was seriously losing it and others pretending not to speak english. I then decided to ask people one by one, you know, like a more personal question. One woman was so nasty to me i thought she was going to spit at me :o Bitch!! (and yes i said it). So after 27 people, yes TWENTY SEVEN people, this guy told me, yes sure, go ahead. I swear i almost kissed him. I dont know his name, i just know he had a striped polo shirt, that he was an english guy working in Singapore. I told him i'd pay him a beer if i got the chance. Just before i got to the immigration window, he even told me he'd been standing in line 1h45!!!
As soon as i got my stamp, i shouted at him (he was at the next counter): thank you soooo much, mr english guy, you saved my day!

It was 8 minutes before my flight.

I ran like mad again and then fuck fuck fuck, another 100 meters line ahead for customs this time. Damn it ! Ran straight to the beginning of the line and i dont know why people there where so much nicer than in the immigration hall, they all told me - but i mean ALL of them - go ahead, pass in front of me, run, run, ruuuuun! Even the custom dude told me to rush i could still make it.
That's when i found myself in front of this massive screen with all the departures listed. Had a quick glance to check what gate i was supposed to be rushing to ...

3 minutes before my flight ...

That's when i read the word that so many people hate with all their soul, me included. Except that this time, that was the most beautiful 7 leters i ever get to read in my whole life... On the screen could be read the word: DELAYED.
Not a 5 minutes delay, not a 15 minutes delay, no, no ... a 40 minutes delay. I almost had an orgasm on the spot. I did exactly like a sportsman does when he wins an important or a tough point, i looked in the screens eyes with my fist in the air and screamed Yeeees! Yes! Yes! Yes!
Ran the last flight of stairs, got through yet another check point - the one you take off your shoes - and slushed myself in the closest seat available, right across the hall in front of gate D23 where my favorite words of the day were glowing in red ... delayed ... Sounded like music to my ears.
It was 2 minutes passed my original flying time.
"45 minutes through immigration and customs" MY ASS.

Since somehow faith didnt think it was enough for my now extremely fragile nerves, my name was called on the mic - the first thing that came to my mind was like: they are not taking me on this flight (in which case i would have most probably either killed someone or hara-kirryed myself right in front of gate D23) - but no, it was just to check if i was there. Yes mam i'm here. I didnt see it necessary to enter in details ...

Once on board (we actually departed 1h30 minute late, people were bitching and i was just smiling like a complete idiot), the pilot apologized and explained that there has been a change of plane at the last minute and this one that we were in was coming from London and got in late. London? Did he say London? Holy crap, this is the second time the UK is saving my ass today. Coincidence? Mmmm. Is that yet another sign? Fuck men, screw them all, it's obvious that England is calling me ... jajaja.
Faith was my friend again on board when they served lasagna for dinner and warm croissants for breakfast ... But it's oh so well known that life can be a complete bitch. The second we land, it was a mess all over again. Got bus-ed to the terminal and i got called again on the mic the second i stepped in the luggage claim room. Bollocks, for sure my suitcases are still in Dallas. Well, no, only one of them. First time i ever take TWO suitcases and only ONE arrives. Oh well, what can i do? My consolation is that the one that did arrive is the one with the fresh chiles inside! Oh yeah, i sneaked illegal stuff through customs in 3 countries ... I rule!

It's been 2 days now ... still no suitcase though :s
Bastards ... must be the english!