Gah!!!

Gentle readers, you know I hate to be predictable, but here I am at yet another bar, blogging by iPhone. Then again, I just found out today that the apartment I am supposed to move into on 1 July isn't going to happen. So, quite frankly, I will require rather large amounts of alcohol to get me through the ordeal of trying to find a new place to live within the next two weeks.  In Paris.  On my - how can I put this? - modest budget. Yep, I'm definitely headed for the cardboard box under the Pont Neuf this time...

Yes, again...

In an effort to not break my perfect posting record this month (and yes, "perfect" refers to posting every day, not to the actual quality of said posts. I know you are a discerning crowd, gentle readers), this is another placeholder post. I am out at Southern Belle's "return to Paris" drinks and had intended to get home at a respectable hour. Instead, I am still out a bar and blogging from my iPhone AGAIN. Sigh. The summer social season in Paris is taking hold...

Let's try that again

Sorry about yesterday - as I said, I'm really going to try to finally achieve a perfect record of posting every day this month, but as I ended up going out with Tiny Dancer and English Rose for a drink yesterday afternoon, it kind of turned into an all-day-and-all-evening sort of thing and I had to blog from the bar on my iPhone just to make the deadline.  (And yes, I felt like a pretentious idiot for doing it - the things I do for you, gentle readers...)

So, as I said, I was at Rosa Bonheur in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont last night - it's  a famous bar in Paris, but you may not have heard of it as it doesn't seem to be in the guidebooks.  It's an interesting combination of outside (picnic tables, everyone chilled out and relaxing) and inside (full-on disco nightclub), not to mention that the park is high up, so you get a spectacular view of the sun setting over the rooftops of Paris.  Highly recommended for a summer evening...

Miss K goes to Hookerville

So yesterday I said that all the Parisiennes are frighteningly chic? Well, today I really saw proof of that. Allow me to explain...

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my friend's house for dinner - she lives not far from the Boulevard St Denis, and when I was walking there, I took a wrong turn and ended up on the rue St Denis instead. I got about 100 yards or so down the street before I noticed that there were an awful lot of...erm...ladies of the "professional" variety, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. So I made the remarkably astute observation that I had ended up on the wrong street and managed to casually mosey off in the right direction without any perverts propositioning me. (Although now that I think of it, why didn't any of the perverts proposition me? I'm a little offended.)

Anyway, moving right along. Pretty much every day when I am not in the office, I go for what I like to call an urban hike. Paris is a relatively small city, so it's very walkable - every day I get out my map and plan a route to visit streets I haven't seen before. But I refuse to carry my map around like some tourist, and I have a short attention span, which means that, inevitably, I will see some interesting-looking street and go wandering off in that direction. All I can say is: thank god my iPhone has GPS and can always tell me where the hell I am - best gadget EVER. And no, Apple is not paying me to say that, it really does rock. (Dear Nice People At Apple: I really do love your products and if you ever feel like sending me some free stuff, that would be awesome. Thanks and big kisses, Miss K)

See, short attention span - I actually meant to say that somehow I ended up back on the rue St Denis again today. But today it was broad daylight and I was actually able to see that there are a lot of funky little stores on that street, so I thought I would take a look. And as I wandered up the street, I could see that the "ladies" were still there (Really? The middle of the day? Is there a roaring trade in that sort of thing at 2pm? Who knew?) and I had a much better look at them this time. And may I just say, for the record, that I have never seen such chic hookers in all my life. Seriously! Not all of them, obviously, but for the most part, they were better-dressed than I was (which truly is a horribly depressing thought and makes me hate my current minimalist wardrobe); there was one lady who was totally rocking a full-length grey fur coat and over-the-knee grey suede boots that I absolutely coveted. Is it wrong that I want the same boots as a Parisienne prostitute? Is it wrong that I don't care if it's wrong?

So, my To Do list for tomorrow:

• go to bank
  
• do some Christmas shopping
• ask a French hooker where she bought her boots
• do ironing
• put away laundry

What? Your list doesn't look like that?