Things you might see on the street

Ummm, oooooookay...

Things you might find in my bedroom

Now don't get all excited from the title, you cheeky little monkeys (honestly, what filthy minds you all have - mercy!) - it just occurred to me that although I have written about Furry Man-Whore before ("Tails" of romance from the city of love), I haven't really shown you what he looks like up close, and I thought I'd post a couple of photos so you know what I'm talking about when I refer to him. 

Oh, all right, I'm a crappy liar - here's the real reason:  I've been pretty consistent about posting recently and I am trying to keep my momentum going, but I just have nothing whatsoever to write about today, so I am using the technique of posting cute kitty-cat pictures to distract you from that fact.  Don't judge me!  I feel so cheap... sob!  (Unless, of course, the technique worked, in which case...woo hoo!)

"Yeah, baby - c'mon over here and gimme some looove..."

"That's right, I'm a furry man-whore, and this is just how we roll..."

Favourite Paris photos - 21

And the reason this is one of my faves?  Because it's the top of the Tour St Jacques, and I can see it from my living room window - how freakin' cool is that?

Things you might see on the street

Okay, I was not aware of the fact that Barbie has obviously moved to Paris - did anyone else know this??

Things you might see in a shop

So there I was, innocently strolling around near the Hotel de Crillon, minding my own business, when I suddenly happened upon this window display.  My goodness, those nice people at Lanvin certainly are  saucy little monkeys, aren't they?   Mercy!  Mind you, it's good advertising - if that's the effect their clothes inspire, maybe I need a new outfit...  Hee!!! 

Things you might see on the street

Only in Paris would you find a full glass of champagne just sitting on the street for no reason whatsoever.  It was about a block from any bars or restaurants, there were no stores or galleries nearby having an event that night, so there's really no logical reason why anyone would leave a full glass of champagne on this particular spot.  But, you know, it's Paris...

Totally crap outfit of the week

Okay, just because I am horribly disfigured at the moment, did you really think I would let you down by not keeping track of the fashion crimes on the streets of Paris?   Admittedly, I have been shunning human contact as much as possible; I had to go to the office on Monday, but other than there, my sunglasses have been firmly in place anytime I have gone out this week - from riding the Metro to buying groceries, my shades have not left my face when I've been out in public.   Yes, that's right, I'm that idiot - Indoor Sunglasses Wearer.  Gah!!  Well, at least that's better than subjecting the good citizens of Paris to Ol' Eye-bald...

Anyway, the point is that I've been hiding at home for most of this week, which is a damn shame because the weather has been beautiful.  Fortunately, my apartment has a teeny-tiny balcony (so I've been able to enjoy the sunshine) and my camera has a long lens (so I've been able to enjoy people-watching).  And even though I was way up on the 5th floor, I could hardly miss this fashion monstrosity.  Hell, this little ensemble is probably visible from space.  In fact, aliens might have been on their way to Earth, seen this from a billion light years away, and turned right back around and gone home again. Because going by this outfit, there's clearly no intelligent life on this planet...

A tale of two man-whores

When I woke up on Saturday, I really didn't want to see anyone - not only did I feel like death on a cracker, I looked like one of the graveyard extras from the video of Thriller (see previous post for photos, in case you are just tuning in now, and have missed my recent hideousness).  However, my friend Filthy Man-Whore (previously known as The Belgian, but this is a much better nickname) was back in town, and called me up mid-afternoon wanting to get together. 

I was definitely not in the mood for company, but Filthy Man-Whore was only in Paris for the day and he decided to spend it helping to distract me from my misery, bless him.  He brought me lunch, made me cups of tea, amused me with vivid and detailed stories of his exceedingly slutty sex life (hence his new nickname), took me out for a very nice dinner (once I started feeling slightly more human later in the day), and never once made fun of Ol' Eye-bald here, which was all very sweet.

I am, however, slightly worried about how well he got along with the cat.  As soon as Filthy Man-Whore arrived, Furry Man-Whore scuttled straight into his lap (as furry man-whores are wont to do), and frankly, considering where that lap has been?  I'm just surprised the poor cat didn't catch some horrible social disease just from being in that general vicinity, but hey, they're both man-whores, so maybe they're immune to each other...

The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

I got an email today from one of my readers - it went like this:

When you say "I'll tell you tomorrow..." on a Thursday and then wait until the following Monday, what are your loyal readers supposed to assume?

A) Four-day hangover?

B) Rugged Irishman?

C) All relevant photos involve you wearing (exposed) green unmentionables?

D) All of the above?

Well, gentle readers, that's an excellent point, and my apologies for the delay.  Sadly, it had nothing to do with A), B) or C), far less D)!  I only wish any of those things had been the reason... 

St Paddy's evening on Thursday was good fun, but Friday night turned out to be a different story.  I  went to a party on a boat on the Seine, which was also good fun, right up until the end.  Unfortunately, when I was about to leave, I attempted a dazzlingly complicated feat of physical coordination: walking up the stairs and putting on my coat at the same time.  Yeah, this might be easy for you, but Miss K is well-known to be the clumsiest person in the world - especially on a moving surface. Even moored, the boat was bobbing up and down in the river, and the wash from a passing bateau-mouche hit our boat just as I was putting my arms in the sleeves of my coat, and that's when I tripped up the stairs.   And how did I break my fall, you ask?  Well, with my face, of course.

More specifically, I broke the fall with my right eye.  Now, Miss K is ever an optimist, and I am extremely grateful to have not broken my teeth or my nose, but not only do I have one hell of a black eye, the impact ripped off most of the lashes on that eye as well - aieee!!!  Never mind the cuts and bruising, never mind that I woke up on Saturday with blood all over my pillowcase and my eye puffed up like a blowfish, never mind that it hurt like the freakin' bejaysus - I don't care about any of that.  What I care about is this: my eye is bald!  I have a bald eyeball!  I'm eye-bald!  Wahhh!!!

And I can prove it - see below for before and after photos of my poor eye...

Before:  Not too shabby, right?  Nice colour, decent lashes, perfectly presentable.

After:  Saturday morning.  Eye-bald!

After:  Today. Still no lashes, just applied a little eyeliner -verrry carefully!  Notice how the bruises are turning neon-green on the left?  Yeah, that's going to be sexy...

But will there be green wine?

Gentle readers, those of you who are long-term readers of this blog may recall that my St Patrick's Day festivities last year lacked a certain....something (I still can't believe there was reggae).  So this year I am taking no chances - I have tracked down a venue which is hosting a St Paddy's Day party that nearly every expat in Paris will be  attending and I'm going with my friend Southern Belle.  So, fun is definitely on the cards but will anything of interest happen?  I'll tell you tomorrow...

Totally crap outfit of the week...or is it?

You know, I have to say - when this lady brings the crazy?  She brings it hard.  I mean, I am slightly in awe: it's about 18 layers of crazy, but please note how carefully it all matches.  And I beg you to scroll down for the close-up - normally I only use a full-length photo for these, but quite honestly?  This deserves a close-up...

Okay, this is where she goes so far into totally crap that she kinda tips right over into totally awesome.  I originally thought it was feathers, but I do believe that's her hair sticking up, adorned with chopsticks (matching chopsticks, no less), but the best thing, the very best thing ever, is that she's actually wearing a crown.  A crown!!! At 4:30pm on a random Wednesday, while going to do her grocery shopping.  So. Freakin'. Great.  Your Majesty (if I may call you that?), Miss K salutes you and would very much like to know where I can get a crown of my own...

Why the Belgians are better than the French (Pt 5)

From the title above, you might be thinking that Miss K had paid another enjoyable visit to the fine country of Belgium, as my last trip there yielded several posts on this topic (Why the Belgians are better than the French Pt1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4), but this is not the case.  In fact, I am speaking of a particular Belgian, who will be referred to as such until I decide on an appropriate nickname for him.  

What happened was this: a mutual friend in London asked me if I could have a drink with The Belgian when he was in Paris this past weekend, since he doesn't know anyone here.  Being a friendly sort (not to mention always being agreeable to having drinks bought for me), I said yes.  So I met up with the Belgian, we had a drink and then moved on to dinner, which is where he managed to use the word "rectum" in conversation - within two hours of us meeting for the first time!  I ask you - when has this become acceptable dinner talk?  Y'all know I'm swamp trash, but even I have standards.

And yet - put together someone who has absolutely no filter on what they say (him - "rectum", "semen", and the complete rundown of every sexual experience he's ever had) and someone who mocks unmercifully (me - I threatened to nickname him Rectum Guy on this blog, and really, nobody wants to be that guy), and you have an extremely entertaining evening.  Hence the title; no French guy has ever amused me that much - yet.  If that changes, I'll be happy to re-title the post...

Springtime in Paris

Things you might see in a shop

Yes, it's a store where the changing rooms are old London telephone boxes.  Quite possibly the coolest thing ever...

Things you might see on the street

Okay, do you remember this post? (Things you might see on the street) Well, I saw this last week - apparently it's entirely possible in Paris to fulfill all your bathroom furnishing needs on the street.  Who knew?  I haven't seen a sink lying around anywhere yet, but surely that's just a matter of time, yes?

Favourite Paris photos - 20

Another day with the dead

As I have mentioned before, one of the most interesting things to do in Paris is to wander around one of the amazing cemeteries (Day with the dead).  I hadn't previously checked out the one in Montmartre, so before Mrs Redneck moved back to the US, we spent an afternoon there.  Hope you enjoy the photos...

Another little story about zombies

Well, when it's time to end a detox, it's time.  A friend of mine ended up with some extra cash and decided to blow it on fancy cocktails for both of us - woohoo!  Anyway, let me just give y'all a little piece of advice: when your drink comes in a tiki head that's the size of your actual head, and is on fire, and is called a Zombie?  There's a pretty good chance it will turn you into one if you have too many - just saying...   Goodbye, detox!  Hee!!!

Favourite Paris photos - 19

Vincennes with the Rednecks

Well, February is finally over and Miss K, for one, is extremely glad.  Most years, I spend January in a post-Xmas funk, sulking about the cold weather and being broke and toxic and gross from all of the over-spending and over-eating and over-drinking during the holidays.  But this year I decided to shake things up and do it in February instead.  Why?  For the excellent reason that my lovely friends Mr and Mrs Redneck were leaving Paris at the end of January, so I spent as much time with them as I could before they left.  And if you are a regular reader of this blog, you will probably recall that spending time with The Rednecks also involves spending time with excessive amounts of alcohol to the extent that their last name has actually become a verb for drinking.  To demonstrate, I will use it in a sentence: "Man, I was out getting Rednecked almost every night in January, but my liver just can't take all that Rednecking these days."  You see what I mean, yes? So there was no point whatsoever in me trying to detox while they were still here...

Anyway,  Mr and Mrs Redneck are awesome, so I was very bummed that they moved back to the US (I mean, really, how dare they - don't they know it's all about me???), but before they left, we managed one more day trip, out to the Chateau de Vincennes.  It wasn't as educational as our trip to Reims (Reims with the Rednecks) , but we did manage to learn a few things  (mostly about how seemingly pretty stained glass windows can actually be rather disturbing...) before heading to a bar for copious amounts of vin chaud.  And yes, I did get well and truly Rednecked that evening. Sniffle! Dang, I miss those guys...

The tallest donjon in Europe

Interior of the chapel

Interior of the chapel - pretty stained glass, right?  Actually all about the Apocalypse - how delightful.

Yep, raining down fire upon the sinners...

...and smiting the sinners...

...and drowning the sinners.  Perhaps I should stop sinning- apparently it will not end well for me.

The little demons would be scarier if they weren't so darn cute

Ceiling detail in the chapel

Courtyard

View of the city from the battlements

View of the chapel from the battlements

A last glimpse before heading for the bar.  History? Check.  Time for drinks...