Capitalism...Y'ur doin' It Wrong!

I just wanted to share with you a few local businesses and business ideas that have popped up in the last few months here in Metz, France. Sorry the photos are so crappy. It was freezing cold and pissing rain, but I think you can still get the point.

Cheeseburgerz.....Y'ur doin' it Wrong:

Duck Hamburger discounted to only 15,90 EUR.


Gangsta...........Y'ur doin' it Wrong:

For real y'ur too cheap to reprint this sign?

Discuss.

Last Minute Escape!

This weekend we took a last minute get-away to Paris. As much as we love the Barbie Dream House, we very much enjoy getting away from Metz. Also, I needed a cheeseburger. So, we hopped on the TGV and away we went. We stopped by the Pompidou to see the Pierre Soulages retrospective, and spent about an hour at the elles@centrepompidou exhibition which was just massive in every sense of the word.

The Marlene Dumas paintings just knocked my socks off. If you can get to Paris this year, get thee to this show. After February 2011 most of this work will go back into storage untill the next time some wise curator decides it’s time to pay attention to women artists again. Ahem. Moving along.

Contrary to popular belief, the highlight of our weekend was of our weekend was not inhaling cheeseburgers at the Hard Rock Café while head-banging to System of a Down. Nope. The highlight of my weekend was scoring not one, but these two pairs of Jimmy Choo Nimbus sandals on sale.

Actually only one pair was on sale, but my lovely FrenchBoy managed to talk the sales girl into giving me the 2nd pair at the sale price since I simply couldn’t choose between two Choos.

(I bet you can’t say that real fast 5 times in a row!)

Ladies and gentlemen, I am in shoe love, but obviously I cannot wear these babies untill Spring officially arrives. Unfortunately it is currently minus 3 degrees here in Metz France, so I’m in for a long wait….which is actually a good thing cuz right about now my feet look like Frodo Baggins.

Seriously--My once lovely tootsies are lookin’ a bit rough around the edges due to the fact that I’ve been stomping around in the snow in my Harley Davidson Motorcycle boots every damn day all damn winter. So, for the next 28 days my feet will be in serious full-time in-patient rehab. I cannot be seen wearing my Choos with effin’ hobbit feet.

I’m just keepin’ it real.

There is no French word for 'Happy Hour'.

One of the toughest parts of being an expat, or in my case an immigrant, is the reality of leaving your friends behind and jumping into a new location and trying to make new ones. Anyone who has ever moved to a new city or state knows how difficult it can be to jump ship and create a new social circle. Doing so in a foreign language is just that much more daunting a task. I think I’ve whined about making French friends on this blog before and I plan to do so again one last time and then I think it will beofficially out of my system:

I find Frenchmen lovely. So much so that I married one. French women on the other hand don’t really trip my trigger. For one, I think I intimidate them. That’s a nice way of saying I scare them off. If you’ve been reading this blog for any time now, you know I have a big personality, but to my credit I’m a bit more subdued in person….as long as I’m sober. Unfortunately most casual social situations or informal events in France do not include sobriety. After a few glasses of wine I have been known to do things that seem completely strange and obnoxious to French women, such as laughing. And trust me it's not just Parisienne women who enjoy looking down on fun people.

But I have to admit; If I didn’t live in the armpit of France I would definitely give this a try. The idea is so simple: It’s like a cocktail hour before work. Only the cocktail is coffee of course. Is this a great idea or is this a great idea? And wouldn't it just be a really cool way to start off your day?

If anyone has ever been to one of these events in Paris I would LOVE to hear how it went. Seriously please either e-mail me or post in comments.

Wait, wait, don’t tell me. A bunch of Anglophones showed up.

Shallow As A Kiddie Pool.

And now, on a much lighter note:

For the last 3 weeks I have eaten nothing but steamed fish and organic fruits and vegetables, and about 85 cups of coffee. Why? Not because I want to get healthy and feel good about myself, but because I want to be able to fit into these clothes.

Tracy Reese is a Goddess with a capital G, and that ensemble at 1:32 is the bee's knees. And did I mention she makes clothese up to a size 12?

Is it wrong to pray to Jesus to help you get designer clothes? Will I go to hell twice if I admit that I only want to get skinny so I can wear slutty clothes?