Okay, so my life has had some bummers in it lately, but I'm learning to "look on the bright side" and see the good in everyone.
The Bad: I vacummed my apartment last night with my new "Euro Deutches Ultra PowerVac 9000 Ja! Ja!" that would probably be illegal in America. At one point, I opened it and spilled dust everywhere. I spent ten minutes trying to reattach it until, predictably, I grabbed it by the handle and bashed it into the floor repeatedly.
The vacuum is fine, but I done jacked up my right hand.
The Good: Cuts on your knuckles actually look pretty badass. I noticed a girl in my choir looking at them last night with what was probably some form of admiration. I gave her a hard, steely gaze and turned away.
The Bad: I would be astonished if my new job didn't violate a few labor laws in Paris. Friday I worked from 6:30PM to 3:30AM with one fifteen minute break. They have now made a rule that you cannot eat during your breaks.
I subsisted off of onion-flavored chips and those little chocolates that they serve with coffee for about 11 hours (I didn't get home until 5:30).
My trainer left me at the bar alone for a long period of time. I did not have a key to the cash register, nor did I know how to make a "Sex in the Sea." People got angry.
The Good: The people are so nice! And we get pints of home-brewed beer for one euro.
The Bad: I don't know why I thought I could still have an interesting conversation after three pints, two glasses of wine, and a pina colada. I cracked out my "magic trick" for everybody (the 7 of hearts one, if you know me), which is a sure sign that I should be more sober.
The Bad: The girl on the moped (see a few posts ago) did not answer her phone when I called.
The Good: I accidentally kept a pair of her gloves that I used for said moped ride. I'm not actually creepy enough to keep/wear them, but at some point, I hope her hands get real cold...yeah, real cold-like.
The Bad: Schumann's "ABEGG Variations" are a bitch.
The Good: I can play Albeniz' "El Puerto" like a true Spaniard.
The Bad: I have two busted pipes in my bathroom. The plumber informed me he was calling my landlord to complain.
The Good: There is nothing good about busted pipes.
The Bad: I had to turn down an invitation to EuroDisney World.
The Good: I did not have to go to EuroDisney World.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Du Boulot
Remember the British pub I tried to work at last time I was here? They didn't hire me, and even took the trouble of sending me a formal rejection letter, which was written with more care than the one Northwestern University sent me in 2003.
Well, somebody's come crawling back. And that somebody is me.
I already had an interview for another British pub in Paris a few weeks ago. I botched it. Example:
Interviewer: Now, we're really looking for a social kind of guy, someone who will go out on the floor and get the party started when it gets late.
Me: (stares ahead with blank expression)
Interviewer: Uhh...yes?
Me: Huh? Uh, yeah! Party guy, that's me. Make some noise, yeah! No, seriously, I uh...like people. A lot.
(interviewer hastily scribbles something bad on notepad)
Interviewer: And you have experience in bartending?
Me: (stares ahead with blank expression)
Interviewer: Are you okay?
Anyway, I tried my luck at the one I tried in 2006 with surprising success--I didn't even have to crack out my "true" story of working at Park Bench in Emory Village for a summer and sheepishly admitted that my cocktail-mixing skills were far from Tom Cruise's in "Cocktail."
My boss informed me that some people have "it" or don't, and that he'll often tell trainees to leave after a week if they can't handle the job.
Obviously I have "it," despite Philip's frequent claims to the contrary in these situations.
The uniform requires a pair of tight black pants--I guess they don't actually have to be incredibly tight, but I accidentally bought a size or two too small. It also requires that workers are cleanly shaven or have a full "beard"--I'm still deciding which way to swing this one.
Anyway, if you're down at Bercy Village and you want a flaming Manhattan on the rocks, I am now your man. Ha ha ha! (note: I'm going to work on laughing a lot for my new job, since bartenders always seem to be "peppy.")
I just did another one of those "Epiphany" parties with the cake and the plastic figure inside (my 5th so far). I lost again. This is going to be one hell of a rough year.
Well, somebody's come crawling back. And that somebody is me.
I already had an interview for another British pub in Paris a few weeks ago. I botched it. Example:
Interviewer: Now, we're really looking for a social kind of guy, someone who will go out on the floor and get the party started when it gets late.
Me: (stares ahead with blank expression)
Interviewer: Uhh...yes?
Me: Huh? Uh, yeah! Party guy, that's me. Make some noise, yeah! No, seriously, I uh...like people. A lot.
(interviewer hastily scribbles something bad on notepad)
Interviewer: And you have experience in bartending?
Me: (stares ahead with blank expression)
Interviewer: Are you okay?
Anyway, I tried my luck at the one I tried in 2006 with surprising success--I didn't even have to crack out my "true" story of working at Park Bench in Emory Village for a summer and sheepishly admitted that my cocktail-mixing skills were far from Tom Cruise's in "Cocktail."
My boss informed me that some people have "it" or don't, and that he'll often tell trainees to leave after a week if they can't handle the job.
Obviously I have "it," despite Philip's frequent claims to the contrary in these situations.
The uniform requires a pair of tight black pants--I guess they don't actually have to be incredibly tight, but I accidentally bought a size or two too small. It also requires that workers are cleanly shaven or have a full "beard"--I'm still deciding which way to swing this one.
Anyway, if you're down at Bercy Village and you want a flaming Manhattan on the rocks, I am now your man. Ha ha ha! (note: I'm going to work on laughing a lot for my new job, since bartenders always seem to be "peppy.")
I just did another one of those "Epiphany" parties with the cake and the plastic figure inside (my 5th so far). I lost again. This is going to be one hell of a rough year.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Legale!
I have a carte de sejour! I'm legally here!
Note: I realize posting a picture of my personal documents is probably a bad idea. Hence the large gray bars and the subtle changing of "Jaffe" into "Jones." Take that, would-be counterfeiters.
The last leg of this visa process took place a couple days ago with a routine medical exam. The doctor informed me that, while in good health, I was at the limit of being underweight.
Just for the record, here are ten things I would like to eat to gain weight:
1. Mallomars
2. Jack-o-lantern full of sour cream
3. Thin stew of gin and pickles
4. Still-beating lamb heart served in a KFC bucket
5. Croissant filled with my fears and insecurities
6. Four-day old "Big Montana" burger from Arby's
7. Script to the movie "Roadhouse"
8. Giant turkey leg served to me by mysterious pirate who turns out to be Rick Santorum in disguise (wearing pirate costume due to a severe chemical burn)
9. LASER Malt Liquor
10. Mallomars.
I guess I've come a long way since my "deuce" days.
Note: I realize posting a picture of my personal documents is probably a bad idea. Hence the large gray bars and the subtle changing of "Jaffe" into "Jones." Take that, would-be counterfeiters.
The last leg of this visa process took place a couple days ago with a routine medical exam. The doctor informed me that, while in good health, I was at the limit of being underweight.
Just for the record, here are ten things I would like to eat to gain weight:
1. Mallomars
2. Jack-o-lantern full of sour cream
3. Thin stew of gin and pickles
4. Still-beating lamb heart served in a KFC bucket
5. Croissant filled with my fears and insecurities
6. Four-day old "Big Montana" burger from Arby's
7. Script to the movie "Roadhouse"
8. Giant turkey leg served to me by mysterious pirate who turns out to be Rick Santorum in disguise (wearing pirate costume due to a severe chemical burn)
9. LASER Malt Liquor
10. Mallomars.
I guess I've come a long way since my "deuce" days.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Nuts
Why does this kind of thing always happen to me, despite my best efforts to avoid it?
Last night, while I was on my computer at a cafe, I noticed the guy at the neighboring table was staring at me. He finally walked over:
Him: I have a question about Wifi.
Me: Uhh, yes? Go ahead.
Him: Well, I don't have internet at home. But could somebody have installed an antenna on top of my building and be using it to beam images onto my television? Can people do that with Wifi?
Me: Uh, no, that is absolutely impossible.
Him: Because there are very pornographic images coming up on my TV, and somebody must be putting them on there using an antenna.
Me: No, again, that is definitely impossible. Don't worry.
At this point, I still thought the guy was sort of sane, even if "very pornographic images" were popping up on his TV.
Him: Well, then what about webcams? For example, I've heard of people breaking water pipes and slipping webcams through the pipes.
Me: I...uhh, I have never heard of that.
Him: I have a very large genealogical chart at home, do you think people may be using webcams to watch me and take pictures of the chart?
At this point I was pretty sure I was in an Ingmar Bergman movie.
Me: What? Well, webcams aren't that small, you'd probably notice one just hanging down from the ceiling.
Him: Oh, so webcams...they're significantly big? I would see them? But...what about nanotechnology? People could just be using tiny wires and slipping them into my apartment.
Me: I've never personally heard of that...I really wouldn't worry about it.
Him: Sometimes my CD Rom drive will open by itself. This must be people playing around with my computer from far away.
Me: Um, I don't think so, that happens sometimes.
He then proceeded to tell me about his favorite female French popstar. As soon as he realized I was American, he began to speak in broken English and tell me the history of the Statue of Liberty. At some point he wore himself out and moved back to his table. I wished him a nice evening.
I'm never leaving my apartment again.
Last night, while I was on my computer at a cafe, I noticed the guy at the neighboring table was staring at me. He finally walked over:
Him: I have a question about Wifi.
Me: Uhh, yes? Go ahead.
Him: Well, I don't have internet at home. But could somebody have installed an antenna on top of my building and be using it to beam images onto my television? Can people do that with Wifi?
Me: Uh, no, that is absolutely impossible.
Him: Because there are very pornographic images coming up on my TV, and somebody must be putting them on there using an antenna.
Me: No, again, that is definitely impossible. Don't worry.
At this point, I still thought the guy was sort of sane, even if "very pornographic images" were popping up on his TV.
Him: Well, then what about webcams? For example, I've heard of people breaking water pipes and slipping webcams through the pipes.
Me: I...uhh, I have never heard of that.
Him: I have a very large genealogical chart at home, do you think people may be using webcams to watch me and take pictures of the chart?
At this point I was pretty sure I was in an Ingmar Bergman movie.
Me: What? Well, webcams aren't that small, you'd probably notice one just hanging down from the ceiling.
Him: Oh, so webcams...they're significantly big? I would see them? But...what about nanotechnology? People could just be using tiny wires and slipping them into my apartment.
Me: I've never personally heard of that...I really wouldn't worry about it.
Him: Sometimes my CD Rom drive will open by itself. This must be people playing around with my computer from far away.
Me: Um, I don't think so, that happens sometimes.
He then proceeded to tell me about his favorite female French popstar. As soon as he realized I was American, he began to speak in broken English and tell me the history of the Statue of Liberty. At some point he wore himself out and moved back to his table. I wished him a nice evening.
I'm never leaving my apartment again.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Encore Ici..
I have the feeling that for the past couple weeks, this blog has become a black hole of nothingness. Perhaps this is because nothing much has broken my routine of buying cheese, drinking coffee, practicing, ad infinitum.
Although I've just had several glasses of hard cider and a rum cocktail (it's "Epiphany" here, which is some sort of holiday), here's everything I've learned over the past few weeks that I've been too lazy to post:
1. Prague is like Disneyland, and more in a "drinking alone on Pleasure Island" way than "eye-popping orgasm on Space Mountain" way. The pretty parts are all in the center of town, which must have the most souvenir shops per capita than any city in the world.
On that note, who the hell buys that stuff? Laughing electronic witches? A "Prague Drinking Team" sweatshirt? It's like the yard-sale from hell, and trust me, I've seen some miserable yard-sales.
Now imagine Disneyland is in the middle of East Germany. As soon as you leave your lovely tourist cocoon, you're in a world of graffiti, trams, and the need to hide your true thoughts behind a facade of nonchalance.
I discovered this underbelly of Prague because of my insistence to stay in a hostel and be "social," versus Philip's desire to stay in a hotel and be "comfortable." Misreading the hostel website, I accidentally booked us an apartment rental service in a "gritty" (the word used by my Prague city guide) suburb of Prague, which left us a 25 minute walk from the center. Our breakfast consisted of a few slices of American cheese and a juicebox. Philip has not spoken to me since.
If I give the impression that I did not enjoy Prague, it is wrong--I just have that feeling that I did not discover the "real" Prague, if such a thing exists. It is still an excellent city with a soaring castle, a cool bridge, excellent brews, heavy dumplings, and lots of empty casinos. I mean really, totally empty casinos.
2. A girl took me on a moped spin through Paris a few nights ago. I felt like James Bond. Except the girl was driving. And I was on a moped.
3. Said girl cannot hang out again until the 20th (precise date named), due to exams. This is either an excuse, or the most studious girl in the world. Probably the former. To be determined.
4. Said "Epiphany" holiday here involves eating lots of almond-flavored cakes and hoping that you find the "feve" in yours--basically a little plastic figurine, which means you get to wear a crown and be "king" for the day.
I have eaten four cakes in the last twelve hours and have not won. In general, finding the "feve" has usually been an accurate indicator of how the year will go. Since I have yet to ever win, I guess I can expect more of the same this year.
Why can't I just be king for once? Just once?
5. The French kid next to me is screaming because "World of Warcraft" froze on him. I've rarely seen anyone so angry. I don't know much about this game, but please just stay away from it.
6. Spending New Year's in a gay bar in the Marais (I didn't know it was gay, I promise...*wink wink*...no, I actually really didn't, seriously) and going to bed by 2AM is actually a more enjoyable way to spend the day than being forced to dance at an unknown person's house in the Parisian suburbs until 5:30 AM.
7. Spending 5 hours in a cafe and watching "Gone Baby Gone" is the perfect way to spend New Year's Day, minus the "Gone Baby Gone" part.
8. Christmas pudding still tastes like goose asshole.
School starts up again on Tuesday! Not that I'll really be able to tell the difference.
Here's to the second trimester of this zany (and often totally uneventful) French adventure.
Although I've just had several glasses of hard cider and a rum cocktail (it's "Epiphany" here, which is some sort of holiday), here's everything I've learned over the past few weeks that I've been too lazy to post:
1. Prague is like Disneyland, and more in a "drinking alone on Pleasure Island" way than "eye-popping orgasm on Space Mountain" way. The pretty parts are all in the center of town, which must have the most souvenir shops per capita than any city in the world.
On that note, who the hell buys that stuff? Laughing electronic witches? A "Prague Drinking Team" sweatshirt? It's like the yard-sale from hell, and trust me, I've seen some miserable yard-sales.
Now imagine Disneyland is in the middle of East Germany. As soon as you leave your lovely tourist cocoon, you're in a world of graffiti, trams, and the need to hide your true thoughts behind a facade of nonchalance.
I discovered this underbelly of Prague because of my insistence to stay in a hostel and be "social," versus Philip's desire to stay in a hotel and be "comfortable." Misreading the hostel website, I accidentally booked us an apartment rental service in a "gritty" (the word used by my Prague city guide) suburb of Prague, which left us a 25 minute walk from the center. Our breakfast consisted of a few slices of American cheese and a juicebox. Philip has not spoken to me since.
If I give the impression that I did not enjoy Prague, it is wrong--I just have that feeling that I did not discover the "real" Prague, if such a thing exists. It is still an excellent city with a soaring castle, a cool bridge, excellent brews, heavy dumplings, and lots of empty casinos. I mean really, totally empty casinos.
2. A girl took me on a moped spin through Paris a few nights ago. I felt like James Bond. Except the girl was driving. And I was on a moped.
3. Said girl cannot hang out again until the 20th (precise date named), due to exams. This is either an excuse, or the most studious girl in the world. Probably the former. To be determined.
4. Said "Epiphany" holiday here involves eating lots of almond-flavored cakes and hoping that you find the "feve" in yours--basically a little plastic figurine, which means you get to wear a crown and be "king" for the day.
I have eaten four cakes in the last twelve hours and have not won. In general, finding the "feve" has usually been an accurate indicator of how the year will go. Since I have yet to ever win, I guess I can expect more of the same this year.
Why can't I just be king for once? Just once?
5. The French kid next to me is screaming because "World of Warcraft" froze on him. I've rarely seen anyone so angry. I don't know much about this game, but please just stay away from it.
6. Spending New Year's in a gay bar in the Marais (I didn't know it was gay, I promise...*wink wink*...no, I actually really didn't, seriously) and going to bed by 2AM is actually a more enjoyable way to spend the day than being forced to dance at an unknown person's house in the Parisian suburbs until 5:30 AM.
7. Spending 5 hours in a cafe and watching "Gone Baby Gone" is the perfect way to spend New Year's Day, minus the "Gone Baby Gone" part.
8. Christmas pudding still tastes like goose asshole.
School starts up again on Tuesday! Not that I'll really be able to tell the difference.
Here's to the second trimester of this zany (and often totally uneventful) French adventure.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Malade
While at a screening of "Singing In the Rain" by myself last night (don't ask), I suddenly realized I was shivering violently. While part of it was clearly due to excitement from watching Gene Kelly tap-dance, I quickly concluded that I had come down with something nasty.
And indeed, I slept twelve hours last night and experienced some of the most insane fever-dreams of my life--something about being in a maze and being chased by the Italian government.
This was the first time I missed living with a host family--the last time I was in Paris and fell ill, my host-mom cooked up a plate of grated carrots and garlic for me as a homeopathic remedy. I ate half of the plate and promptly vomited. But nonetheless, it's always nice to have some sort of company when you're ill. If somebody wants to come bring me a Powerade or a sack of soup, please feel free.
And indeed, I slept twelve hours last night and experienced some of the most insane fever-dreams of my life--something about being in a maze and being chased by the Italian government.
This was the first time I missed living with a host family--the last time I was in Paris and fell ill, my host-mom cooked up a plate of grated carrots and garlic for me as a homeopathic remedy. I ate half of the plate and promptly vomited. But nonetheless, it's always nice to have some sort of company when you're ill. If somebody wants to come bring me a Powerade or a sack of soup, please feel free.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
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