Ô rage ! Ô désespoir ...

Ô vieillesse ennemie !
N'ai-je donc tant vécu que pour cette infamie ?
Et ne suis-je blanchi dans les travaux guerriers
Que pour voir en un jour flétrir tant de lauriers ?

This morning, i looked at myself in the mirror and i was in utter shock. What was that on my temple? This is not happening. Not to me. Not now. For crying out loud i'm not even 32 yet! This can't be true. I must be dreaming. Yes this is it, it is a dream and i am going to wake up in a second. I am gonna pinch myself and wake up. Aouch. Damn it. It is not a dream. This is really happening then? This dreadful tragedy is really happening. To me. TO ME.

I HAVE WHITE HAIRS ... O_o

It really does happen to the best of us.


*** UPDATE ***I am not gonna let myself enter severe depression for that. Hop! Tweezers and manos a la obra. I have one. I mean, i HAD one. It's gone now. Flushed in the toilets. Cachez ce cheveu blanc que je ne saurai voir. In fact, i wasn't gonna just hide it. I needed it to disappear. To be exterminated. See you! Bye! Adios! Don't come back! Don't bother to stay in touch. I am not letting this getting an obsession either. This is NOT an obsession. I am just daily checking my eradication worked fine!

Back To School

I had been waiting for that for an entire month ... the day when the kids will finally go back to school. I already hear you say, why would you care, you don't have children. Well, believe me, whether i wanted to have some or not, since I've been living in Mexico, i do. Not that any of them is actually depending on me but indirectly, i have about 10, ages ranging between 3 and 10 years old. How come? Well it is very simple. It is summer time, it is insanely hot, i live in a mushroom neighborhood where there are 8000 houses one against each other, perfect houses for a couple (as long as you have AC!) but that most people here use to live with parents, children, grand children and grand-parents (and a cat and a dog and a rooster and who knows what other pet!). Since we already set the record straight that 8 people do not live very comfortably in 70 square meters, where do children spend their days? Outside. Outside where? Outside on the street. And since i live in a dead end - and even though i am towards the end of the dead-end - kids play, and scream, and run, and race, and laugh, and scream some more in front of my house ... until passed midnight ... every day of the week.

And that positively drives me nutter.

But it was meant to happen eventually ... schools reopening ... August 24th. I wanted to post about it on the 23rd but as you already know, had issues with my Internet and that completely eclipsed my happiness about the long-awaited return to school.

It is now 9:30pm ... homework is done, diner is eaten, kids are showered and in bed. In bed = they are not in the street screaming. And that for me, is priceless. Of course the neighbor who's half death still listen to her TV full volume but outside on the street, it is nice, quiet and empty. And when I'll go to bed at 10pm like a 12 years old kid who has to wake up early to go to school tomorrow , there' ll be no sound coming through my open window ... I love it already.

Shoot Me Now

... Shoot me now .... talalalala ....
To set up the ambiance you need to sing these 3 words on the melody of "total eclipse of the heart". I think my colleague Kelley only figured out the first sentence of the verse ... shoot me now. And then she's just humming the rest. I thought i might fell off my chair from laughter when i heard her singing that as she was getting nutter covering on a job that wasn't hers. It has now become a common song to sing in the office when it becomes insane.
Well today, it also applies to everything else in my life. Not that i am planning on shooting myself in the head (i wouldn't have the guts to do such thing anyway) but you know, when you're filled up with this overwhelming powerlessness. Oh how much i hate it. You feel like the entire universe is against you - which makes the law of attraction oh so true one more time, the good attracts the good and the bad attracts the worse.

So there i am struggling with my Internet connection, and my messenger, and my other messenger, and my emails, and my blackberry, and my skype ... I mean we live in the best era there is regarding communications. This is supposed to be easy. And handy. And practical. You don't even need a "messenger for dummies" book.

Well in my life right now, there is ONE person i want to be in touch with, only one. Everybody else i generally chat with, i can see them pretty much every day. Which i do most of the time. But this very special person, i don't. I don't see him every day. At all. So chatting is all i have to stay in touch. At least for now. And it has been so frustrating for the past few days that i got to the point i really wanted to tear my hair out (which didn't really work ... i don't have enough), or screamed my lungs out of rage (which i did), or cried my eyes out (which i almost did) or throw my computer through the window (which i so nearly did!!) or all of the above at the same time.

I mean it was like, i get online, he gets off, he gets on while i got off 2 minutes earlier, when we finally both online, a storm burst out outside and there goes my Internet connection (and with it messenger and emails), when i am finally back on, he's gone. And then messenger doesn't let me leave message while the other person is offline, so i got all my lines that are bouncing back which drives me positively nutter.

And then i finally realized today that messenger on the blackberry does NOT deliver offline written messages. That i actually have to get online a real computer to get them ... Talking about adding confusion and misunderstandings.

One thing is certain though, in those painful moments, a messenger representative would stand on my doorstep, i swear to god he wouldn't be living another 2 seconds.

Comfort Food

Life is full of ups and downs ... Right this very second for me, it's more like down. Down the drain to be more precise. Whatever. Since there is no way i am going to ramble on why i am feeling blue tonight, and since i really dont want to be writing a depressing post, i wonder what the hell could i write! jaja.


I just find it funny what people do to protect themselves against blueness. Some people isolate themselves, some people cry, other need to let it all out and talk about it for hours. Generally, none of it is really too healthy but what i do when i feel blue is even worse. I eat. Preferably sweet stuff. Anything goes. Especially the things that i try NOT to eat on a daily basis to avoid become the tower my dad always threatened me i'll become (that is one long story).


Double deckers nutella sandwiches (at least a couple of them) with this awesome "bimbo kids" bread i find here, always accompanied with a coke (since i am a strong believer that any chocolate or chocolate-like taste should be accompanied by coke) or at least pop. Talking about comfort food. It'll make me feel ten times worse when it all shows on my butt in a few days but oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do.


Since i already shoveled down a couple of those doble deckers 10 squillions calories a mouthful sandwiches, i went on second gear and chose the next best thing after chocolate: PASTA.
I am the biggest pasta fan this side of the world, if not of the world. I could eat pasta for lunch and dinner 7 days a week. My GP told me, pasta, once or twice a week. Once or twice a WEEK? Are you sure it's not once or twice a DAY? Well listen, you, mr GP, italian people eat pasta way more than once or twice a week and i cant fit in any of their damn pants. So they're tiny and slim and fit. So screw them all with their no-carb diets ... The "carbier" the better. That's the whole purpose of comfort food. Make YOU feel better, not your body. That, well that, will have to come right afterwards. And no, puking is not an option. There is no way i'll indulge in the sweetest most awesome sandwich or the highest pile of pasta ever to then throw it all up. NO WAY.

I feel so bad i'd actually kill for a cigarette. Too bad i'm asthmatic. And i havent been smoking in so long it would taste vile. Well, you know what? Sod it. Sod it all. Hell yeah, i'm lighting up one right now. Right this second. (* damn where is my puffer?)


So for those who wonder what was on tonight's comfort menu at Mathilde's restaurant:

*** Starter ***

Doble Decker Nutella Sandwich on Bimbo Kid Bread

Recommended (and accepted) drink to go along: Coca Cola (half liter can)

*** Main Course ***

Pasta Made Mont Fujiyama Assorted with Grilled Chiken Breast

*** Dessert ***

Marlboro Red Evilish Smoke

Recommended drink to go along: Triple Vodka Cranberry (damn it ran out of cranberry - ok triple on the rocks then!)

Viva los carbs y viva lo dulce! Woohoo.


*** last minute update *** OK now, too much sugar made me hyper and i cant sleep, pasta filled up my stomach i look like a 6 months pregnant woman, bloody fag made me so dizzy i might actually puke and the vodka, oh the vodka ... it has been so long. It's like having sex with an ex. It is wrooooong but jeez does it taste good :p

Keep On Singing My Song

I woke up this morning feeling good ... and let's be honest, talking about feeling good is boring - to read and to write. So i'm gonna let someone else talk about it, especially since it sums up pretty well the way i feel about it all ...

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face
And nobody's gonna bring me down, today
Been feeling like nothing's been going my way, lately
But I decided right here right now, that my outlook's gonna change
That's why I'm gonna
Say goodbye to all the tears I've cried everytime somebody hurt my pride
Feelin like they won't let me live life and take the time to look at what is mine
I see every blessing so clearly
And I thank god for what I got from above
I believe they can take anything from me, but they
Can't succeed in taking my inner peace from me
They can say all they wanna say, about me but I'm
I'm gonna carry on,
Imma keep on, (keep on)singin' my song

I never wanna dwell on the pain, again, ooh, no
It's no use in relivin' how I hurt back then, oh no, no
Rememberin' too well the hell I felt when I was running outta faith, ooh
Every step I'm 'bout to take, well it's towards a better day
Cause I'm about to
Say farewell to every single lie and all the fears I've held too long inside
Every time I felt I couldn't try, all the negativity and strife
But too long, i've been struggling, i couldn't go on
But now I found that I'm feeling strong and I'm moving on
I believe they can take anything from me, but they
Can't succeed in taking my inner peace from me
They can say what they wanna say, about me but I'm
I'm gonna carry on, (carry on)
Imma keep on, (keep on)singin' my song

Every time I tried to be what they wanted from me
It never came naturally
So I ended up in misery
Was unable to see all the good around me
Wasted so much energy on what they thought of me than simply just rememberin to breathe,
I'm humanly unable to please everyone at the same time,
So now I find my peace of mind, livin'
One day at a time

In the end I answer to one god, comes down to one love
Till I get to heaven above
I have made the decision never to give in,
Till the day I die no matter what
I'm gonna carry on
Imma keep on ...

Singin' my...
Sooooooooooooooooong ..........

Yep ... from now on, it'll be my way ... and no, i won't feel bad to make other people feel good!

Popular ?

I am nice to people ... generally ... I mean i am nice to people i work with, with my neighbors, people i meet when i walk my dog, people in the superstore or the little tiny shop at the corner of the block i live in, people i interact with on a daily basis ... etc, etc. That is who i am. I also think it is just plain politeness and since a smile doesnt cost a thing and feels good, i do that too!

Well i dont know what that is i do, apart from smiling a lot, that makes those same people THINK that we can be friends, that they can tell me their life when i go buy my bread, that they can judge my dog just by her breed, that they can dispose of my time, especially on my day off, just because we're wearing the same uniform, that they can come to my house unannounced or that we can hang out together on my free time?

Dont take it personally you all, but no, we can't ... I know i am overly popular and cool and people are queuying to hang out with me **laughs ** but people i do hang out with on my free time are not people from work (one exception there and she knows who she is), not people i meet randomly on the streets nor people who shop at the same store i go to. And yes, i am going to sound upmostly selfish and egocentric (and i really, really dont care), but i have given a lot to others throughout my life ... now it's ... my turn ;)

Now let's sing ...
I'm head of the class, I'm popular! I'm a quarter back, I'm popular! My mom says I'm a catch, I'm popular! I'm never last picked, I'm a cheerleader chick! I'm the party star, I'm popular! I've got my own car, I'm popular! I'll never get caught, I'm popular! I'm a teachers pet, I make football bets!

It's My Monkey And I'll Spank It Whenever It's Naughty

Saw that on a shirt the other day ... I think it was hilarious ... What does it mean? I guess it means something different for everybody, all depending on how twisted your mind can be ...
I'll let you sleep on it ... Even though i can ready your mind and you should be ashamed of yourself!

Lost In Translation

I do translations for my brother. He's the editor of a stunt/motorbike mag in french called Street Monsters (http://www.streetmonsters.net/) and since most of his articles are coming from the States or England, i end up translating shit for him. It's not that bad, it's just a bit technical sometimes. Which is good in a way you know, at least i know all those bad ass macho words such as camshaft, axle, piston engine, hub and other slave cylinder! Of course i don't know what a camshaft is! I said i know the WORD (and the translation in french), i never said i knew what it was! Helloooo!

Since i have very often agreed on doing "works" received today to be ready for yesterday, there has been some noticeable improvements in my status ... i am now an official Street Monster "employee" (si, si, check the staff list online!). Well, i am working twice as much as before so tonight, i am officially asking for a raise. I want a raise. Now.
Ah. This is voluntary work? So i don't get paid for it? What? Bollocks! I want my money back! Ah no, that's not the right line ... Never mind ... Can't remember who told me NOT to keep business within the family. I really should have paid more attention that day!

Well tonight, i am very much struggling with my third translation of the month. I can't seem to see the end of these 6 pages. SIX pages o_O and not even half way through ... Aaaaargh!

The problem i generally run into is time. I mean i always leave everything to the last minute. OK i have until Monday to do it? What day is is today? Sunday? Yeah, still have time.
What i tend to forget is that France is 7 hours ahead of Mexico thus even if it's still Sunday here, Monday is already well on its way there. My brother/boss will be waking up in maybe 3 hours at the most, expecting his translation that is yet to be done! HEEELP.

I know, if i wasn't wasting time blogging and chatting, damn translation could be done, read-proof and sent. I'm on it. I AM ON IT (jeeeez cool off you guys, i still have 3 hours before big brother/boss wakes up!)

On Steroids, Cellulitis and All Those Little ... How Do You Call Them ?? ... Mmmm ... Stuff

I am tired.

I have been tired for so long i didn't think it was normal, or healthy or any good. Like sleeping 11 hours a day and still don't feel rested, i am assuring you, it is not normal (at all). So went to see my GP and took advantage of my appointment to tell him all about my little boo boos. What else GPs are for? I mean i am paying the guy i might as well use this given time at its best!
So here i am, in his office, and like in any doctor's office, you feel like you're gonna die within the coming days, if not the coming hours ... Like Coluche (a french comedian) would say: "be strong, you have 6 more days to live ... 6 days? fuck man, couldn't it be 6 weeks? Jeez I'm the one dying here, and even 6 months you know, i mean when you're sick, 6 months pass quite fast!"

So between Rickettsia, anaemia, high blood pressure, swollen bronchus, circulation problems, too many white cells in the blood, infected tonsils and shortness of breath, i was really wondering when would be my life-sentence announcement. He didn't quite mentioned a date actually, he just said: we need blood samples ... What? Again? We did some in April! Aren't they still valid? No? Shit. I'm gonna have to do blood samples ... that means needle ... ENTERING THE VEIN :o
So i braved myself and went ... for bloody blood samples. Young nurse, non-stop chatting. Nice lady but jeez she just wouldn't shut up. Yeah, well, sorry if I'm not really reactive to your chit-chat here but i am concentrating on not fainting, especially when i hear you saying, OK i can't seem to find the vein in this arm, we're gonna try the other one. Oh sweet lord! I almost passed out at the thought. But when the bloody nurse (ok, there is no play on words on this one !) dipped the needle in my invisible vein, she said she missed.
** blank **
37 seconds later ... WHAAAT ??? wadiujused?

And she laughed. She LAUGHED. She had made a joke ... like a JOKE. Like it was funny. Oh yeah of course, what was i thinking? Did i forget to laugh? Did i NOT laugh? Biiiiitch DO NOT EVER MAKE JOKE ABOUT THAT WITH ME. E-V-E-R.

Ok i didn't really say that, i was recovering from the shock, waiting for my eyes to get back to where they normally pointing at, i.e. in front (instead of desperately trying to see through the back of my skull), had to use 4 band-aids cuz she butchered my vein and wait sitting in this torture room for another 10 minutes in order to avoid making a complete fool of myself passing out on the street.

All of that to confirm what the doctor thought it was ... asthma.

Asthma or the source of all my troubles ... ALL of them. Well at least that makes things easier. So what do i do now? Use my puffer? Woohoo. I love it. No? Damn it, the only fun thing about asthma is the puffer and you're telling me that my "condition" is too bad to only use the inhalator ... no, damn it, it's inhaler ... really? not inhalator ... i like inhalator better ... sounds more like extreeeeme. Sounds bad ass. Inhalator the return ... Oh dear i should stop. So where was i? Oh yeah ... so no puffer then.

So what do i do about my team of bacterias/diseases/infections/swellings or whatever that it is i have? Well, miss, you'll have to take steroids. For a week. Sorry what? Come again? Steroids? Like in steroids? But doc, i don't want to get a baritone voice ... nor a mustache to be truly honest. I mean i am paying (and suffering) enough to remove the hair i already have ... Really no need for extra. Well it's that or you'll die in 6 days. Oh, ok then, steroids it'll be. This controlled (if not banned or illegal) performance-enhancing substance, with a shit loads of adverse effects including (but not limited to) acne, high blood pressure, aggressiveness, violence, psychosis and who knows what else ... ?? He's giving that to me. To ME. To cure me. o_O

OH SWEET LORD.

Soooo ... now that we got that one straight ... what can i do about cellulitis? I know, it has nothing to do with asthma ... but again, since I'm here, might as well mention it. Oh come on don't be prude, all women have cellulitis. Well, miss, there are a lot of miraculous products on the market ... oh yeah i know i tried them all. Well, then you'll have to agree with me that they are obviously not very efficient. Right. So, what can i do then? What IS the miraculous solution? The miraculous remedy? Should i go see a witch? A voodoo? Do black magic? Infusions? Mud baths? What? WHAT?

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!

The Frenchness in a Dog

Not ANY dog ... we're talking about mine. My own 100% born and raised Mexican dog. Guess what? I think she knows where her mom (ie ME) is coming from and what cruel creepy stuff our ancestors did ... She just took sadicism a tiny bit further ... it's SLICING TIME ...


Demonstration:

First, you take off the hat ... gotta show some respect in front of Death.

Then you nicely, neatly CHOP THE HEAD OFF (ohohohoh)




And since we all agree that half a head is a lot messier than no head at all, we finish the job properly ...

A guillotine would not have done a better job ...

C'est à boire à boire à boireeeeuh ...

C'est à boire qu'il nous faut oh oh !

It's my day off ... I am tired, it's cool outside, it's the PERFECT day for a sleep in. I guess it WAS the perfect day. Damn dog cried all night because she has to pee under the rain (dont know why, she doesnt seem to like it) and then, then ... that's when it starts.
Here in Mexico, you don't have to step outside your house, the outside world is coming to your doorstep. And even though i must admit it can be very convenient, it is also pretty damn loud. Every single truck selling you shit is honking and shouting in a megaphone and putting loud music on speakers, and since they all pass in every single street, you hear them for about 20 minutes, not just when they pass in front of your house. And that's what a day off sounds like here:
8:15am - water
8:30am - gaz
8:55am - water
9:45am - vegetables
10:10am - water
11:20am - shrimps
12:10am - water
12:25 - water
12:28 - water (no seriously, there's a truck that JUST passed)
1:15pm - water
2:00pm - pineapples
2:10pm - aluminium (they buy all your aluminium and and any metal you have for sale)
3:20pm - water (coming back from lunch)
4:15pm - water
5:05pm - gaz again (in case the tank you bought in the morning is already empty, you know, nowadays, with leaks and shit you never know)
6pm - water
7:20pm - water (moment i left for my dog's walk)
8:40pm - water (the second i stepped back in my street)
8:45pm - tamales
9pm - bread (hold on, brb, gotta get this cuernito one for tomorrow's breakfast)
9:15pm - water (god you GOT to admire their faith)

Then i left home for a while so not to sure that was the last truck to pass. And THAT agenda is obviously without taking into consideration, the telenovelas and stupid day time games on TV that all 3 houses around mine are following full volume, neighbor's washing machine, blenders, screaming kids (bloody neighbor's kid, screamed his lungs out for 40 minutes - FORTY MINUTES :o how can you still breathe after that?), lady Gaga just discovered by the 2 kids next door, the fan on all day and the cars passing in the street all day.

But let's put things straight ... how THIRSTY do they think we are? I mean, i know it's hot and everything and that we are all supposed to be drinking loads but come on, they sell 19 liters bottles. NINETEEN LITERS. I personally drink it in a week or so. Even if there are 4 people living in the house, i mean you're not gonna buy more than one garafon a day. They pass in average 13 times in a DAY. THIRTEEN times :o
They must think thirSteen's a charm!

Wet Tee-Shirt Contest

I walk my dog every day - and for that, i used one of the hundred tank-top i have. Today was no exception. What i tend to forget though, is that rainy season just started and that i would most probably come back soaking wet. Well i thought about it half-heartedly and got a towel ready for the way back just in case ... So i can vigorously dry my dog upon arrival, do a little wrestling with her since she thinks the towel is a WWF champion and not make a mess in my already messy house... So yeah, i thought about that detail ;-)

My dog gets a lot of attention generally. She's a pitbull and a lot of people here seem to think it's an awesome breed and they all want to pet her. Well tonight i got more attention than she did and i really didnt understand why until one block away from my house, when i looked down ... Damn it damn it DAMN IT ... Yes i use a tank top to walk my dog, but why, WHY did i have to use a white one TODAY when it's meant to pour any second. And we DID get poured on!

I always said i would never lower myself to participate in a wet tee-shirt contest well oops, i think i just did! My only comfort? It was a nice bra i ended up showing off, not my boobs - and since i was the only one competing in this one, hope i've won the bottle of tequila! Salud!