Quelle Arnaque

Excuse the lack of posts, but my productivity level has reached such terrifying lows, that my dad called me and suggested I spend this week in Oxford instead of continuing to waste his money on hostel rooms, practice rooms, the roulette wheel, and cheap ecstacy. Here's the purification false-purpose rundown of the noteworthy things that have happened:

1. Since I'm currently paying an exorbitant amount of money to practice piano, which again, could be better spent on the roulette wheel, I kindly asked the woman today if we could strike some sort of deal. You know, "I scratch your back, you scratch mine, and we're Even Steven, okay tiger? Say, do you like Poptarts? Cause I've got a box of them back in my apartment, if you get my drift." That kind of thing. Paris runs off of corrupt bargains.
Not only did she say no, but she informed me that the studio would be permanently closing in a week. Was there another store to practice in, somewhere in this city of 11 million people?
Shrug, maybe, she had heard of one somewhere in the vicinity that charged 12 euros an hour.
Did she know its name?
Shrug, ehh, not really.
Great! So come one week, I will no longer have a piano to practice on.

2. I went to my school today to do some sort of final registration. I got there as soon as it opened, and there were three women working in the office. One of them opened up my file on her computer, and then abruptly got up and left.
I waited for her for over 45 minutes. One of the other women kept looking at me and saying, "Oh, where did she go? I'm sorry." Finally, I took action.
"Can't you help me? I'm really just here to turn in some paperwork."
"No! She has already opened your file!"
"I know, but she hasn't done anything with it or changed it in any way. All she did was open it and leave."
"No! Absolutely not, no, I cannot help you."
I waited for about another ten minutes, as she continued to help people in the line growing behind me. Finally, I barged in front of someone else and said, "Look, I just want to give you my passport pictures and social security form. My dad is sending the necessary checks today."
"What? You don't have the checks with you?"
"No."
"I'm sorry, I can't help you if you don't have the money on you. I'll call you when the checks arrive. Bonne journee."
It's fine, I guess that hour wasn't all that important anyway.

3. Ex-girlfriends are difficult to hang out with, I'm coming to realize. Every comment sounds like some kind of back-handed insult, even if its not meant to be, like, "Your new boyfriend sounds like Ike Turner." Well, okay, maybe I should've thought that one out first.

4. I went to my umpteenth house birthday party in the French suburbs. I wasn't even really invited, everyone knew each other already, and I had trouble following the conversation on the role of marriage in French society. I sat at the snack table and ate quiche far and dangerously beyond the point of satisfying my hunger.

5. According to my French dictionary, "bouncy castle" translates as "chateau gonflable (which serves as a giant trampoline for children)." Finally, I'll be able to find a good place in this city to polish off a handle of rum.

So that's my life: I have no piano. One of my French friends has become a heavy-duty shoplifter. I forgot to bring toenail clippers with me. I accidentally ate shrimp eyes out of a bowl of paella last night. I went to see "A Mighty Heart" last night.
And Nixon talkin' about "Don't worry."

Sorry, a Curtis Mayfield reference always seems appropriate.