My trip to France.

I am currently in Nice with my ex, and now friend, whom I refer to as Pants.  Tomorrow we fly to Paris.

Neither of us speak French, although I've figured out how to ask where places and things are, how much things are,  and some other useful things.  It helps that I speak some Spanish, and over the years have been able to puzzle out the Latinate roots of the so-called Romance Languages, and associate words with the English language.

Douche is French  for shower,  Bain is bath, etc. Summer's Eve is therefor a shower for the lady bits, from the inside. Bain du Soleil for that St. Tropez tan.  Sun bathing! Cirque du Soleil is circle of the sun!

That's how my brain works.  I first remembered that Suave meant smooth because of the singer Rico Suave,  and he was sorta smooth.  At least I think he was supposed to be smooth, although my impression of him from the video was that he was well-oil,  and thusly slippery,  which is kind of smooth.

But back to the trip.

We left Chicago at around 5p, and ended up at the CDG airport in Paris at around 10a,  after a nine+ hour flight during which neither of us could successfully sleep.

When we got to the airport,  I became immediately obsessed with converting my dollars into Euros,  and dragged Pants and our luggage around the airport to a currency exchanger, where we expensively swapped $300 for 184€ and small change. They took out a substantial fee,  but with my receipt I can apparently exchange up to 184€ and small change,  but won't have to pay a $5 fee.  Or maybe it was 5€. All I know I'd that I won't get it back,  but I also won't have to pay it again. Deal.

The we went looking for the train to the Orly airport, so we could catch our flight to Nice.  It took a while,  but we finally puzzled out how the ticketing machines worked,  but they only took credit cards and coin money, and it refused to accept Pants's credit or debit card.  I knew we had to ride the RER,  but wasn't sure how that related to buying tickets.

In Chicago,  you pay a flat fee to ride mass transit,  and it doesn't matter where you start from,  but probably does matter where you end, because they make you get off the method of conveyance at the end of the line.

So I bought 2 tickets for the RER for 3€90, which seemed reasonable to me.  We had to go far,  but it was just a simple straight shot.  And we tried to use these tickets,  only to get denied.

Eventually we stood in line and bought tickets for the trip,  which crossed various zones,  and ended up being almost 40€. Which I had to pay because someone didn't feel the need to exchange any of his own money when provided the opportunity. Granted,  he did nicely give me some spending money for the trip,  because I am poor and broken,  but then ended up taking it all back for fares and meals and the like.

We eventually got to Orly,  which I'd pretty much where the obligatory English translations seemed to end,  and the language barrier slid into place.  Thankfully, latte is already a French word,  and you can point at pictures and words on a menu to get your point across regarding food selection.

At the Orly airport,  you can get free 15 minutes of Wi-Fi,  before you have to pay for it.  Fortunately I had two different Wi-Fi devices with which to amuse myself,  and of course,  multiple email addresses with which to verify my existence.

The plane ended up being late,  so we didn't get going on time,  but people started queueing up way before the plane arrived,  and then stood and glared and huffed and puffed because they had to stand in line for twice as long as they should have, although Pants and I parked our asses the second they said the flight would be late,  because there are assigned seats on the plane,  and our carry on bags fit neatly under the seats in front of us.

Also,  I am posting this from my tablet with autocorrect,  and not with a real computer and keyboard,  so I apologize if spelling or grammar is wonky.

fifty shades: twiharder

This last weekend, I read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. For free, mind you, courtesy of the interwebz. I might be curious about mommy porn, but I'm not spending money on it.

After starting book two, I decided I  really really wanted to rewrite the books, using words and mixing up the metaphors and descriptors*.


Because it reads like Twihard fanfic.  Badly-written twihard fan-fic.

Which it is. 

I made a comment about it on Facebook, and was thusly informed by Miss Proffitt (of GoodGirlsGoneGeek).


It needs a good trip through a writer's workshop. Maybe an extended holiday.


But the thing that really cheeses me off about the whole affair is that Vintage is the publishing house that won the rights to the books and published them. VINTAGE USED TO HAVE INTEGRITY.





*How many times can someone be wrapped around you like a vine, or elongate your nipples, or use the phrase "apex of my thighs." And when you have hot mind-blowingly amazing sex, please don't think, "HOLY COW." all the time. But, "Laters, baby." amuses me.

Don't even get me started on the whole inner goddess idiocy.

It all makes so much sense now...

I absolutely adore the movie "Love Actually."

And of course, I am powerfully fond of the show "The Walking Dead."

Today, I was watching HULU, and during a break, a commercial came up for a British series called "Teachers."

Watching the trailer, I realized that the main character on the show was Mark, from "Love Actually."

Then I heard his name.

Andrew Lincoln.

Holy fuck, it's Rick Grimes.

A baby, fresh-faced, British Rick Grimes.

Bwahahaha.

Computer Games.

In my day, we played Oregon Trail on paper. With a role playing sheet. The teacher told you when you died of dysentery, and you liked it. Or at least sucked it up like a plucky little TAG-program 3rd grader, by gum. 

Bacon Action Figure Felt Bookmarks!

The end of 2011 featured a very homemade Christmas.

One of the things I made was hand-embroidered felt bacon bookmarks/action figures and tree ornaments. Everyone that got them seemed to like them, and I thought that they might be a good thing to make and sell in the WePay and Etsy stores.

The first day I listed them on WePay and posted about it, no one bought any, so I told Jeffery that if no one bought one that day, I would come up with background stories for all of them.

All of them are available for $8 each from my WePay store.

Meet the Bacon Action Figure Felt Bookmarks:

A is an expert military and financial tactician, and a gifted historical cartographer - with a particular fondness for Qin State maps from the 4th Century, displaying tributary river systems of the Jialing River in Sichuan.

With A in the lead, you'll always know blue is for water, and when and how to use the better part of valor.

B's background is a little hazy.

Rumored to be a former black-ops agent, B is now the munitions expert and BAFFB's sniper extraordinare. 

 B is also a wise ass, and refuses to take a normal photo.













C speaks 47 languages, and is the team's most cunning linguist - any and all accents are used here.

Also a master of diguise, C studied under both Tony and Jonna Mendez, both having held the position of CIA Chief of Disguise.

C is gifted in the art and craft of identity transfer operations, including eluding hostile surveillance while working in enemy territory, and the use of stereotyping and the principles of disguise, magic and illusion.

If you need someone to drive it, ride it, fly it, steer it, walk captain it, or glide it, D is your go to bacon! Defensive driver, offensive boater, or savvy dirigible operator, if it moves, D can make it go go go.

D is also one hell of a train conductor... but don't ask about it.

 

E was originally tasked to work for the NSA, but was lured away by the massive array of top-secret, futuristic military technology available to the BAFFB team.

Hacker, cracker, coder sine qua non, E can get any piece of information from any source at any time, day, night, or otherwise.



 

Tired of the ridiculous superficiality of the Los Angeles cosmetic microsurgery scene, Russian emigre F originally wanted to get into combat surgery with the military, but after hearing about the elite BAFFB team, decided to sign up.

Utilizing the latest cutting edge medical technologies available, F keeps the team in tip top shape.

G's entire family was butchered by ninja samurai in a highly innacurate historical reenactment of  Custer's Last Stand. Unable to deal with the grief, G was sequestered away, vowing vengeance, and learning every form of martial arts known to man or bacon.

Eventually settling on Foo Young style, G is the resident martial arts specialist, and an unfortunate and terrible dark spot in the otherwise untarnished history of MMA cage fighting matches.

G is seldom captured on film.

The original five team members prior of the addition of F and G:

  

UPDATE: D is now driving an elementary school bus part time, having returned to civilian life.

Why I love the intarwebz.

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Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 3

One of Petra-Herre's phrases:

Vedä Vittu Päähän Ja Pakene Vuorille. Draw a cunt* over your head and flee to the mountains.

*See "Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 2" for an explanation.

Dear ABC News:

This is February. Primary Results are not Election Coverage. Election Coverage happens in November, when elections occur. Do not interrupt dramatic television programming to share that your network is projecting results. Wait until you have actual results, and then share the results with the public via some sort of news programming. Like Nightline News. Or Good Morning America. 

Last week, we dyed my hair a bright fuschia-ish purple.

I've been a slightly paler version of this in the past. 

The formula then was 3/4 lavender, and 1/4 violet, but this time we went half and half. 

Last time I kept my eyebrows blonde. This time I decided to fully commit. Go big or go home. 

I looked and looked and looked at all the make-up at Target, and found an eyeliner that is an insane shade called VIOLET BLAST! which matches my hair almost perfectly. 

 Now I think that when people look at me, it registers that something is off, but since the brows and hair match, it doesn't make the same impression it did last time. 

Barely anyone says anything about my hair except for black ladies and old men.  Or it could be that I don't work in the Southport Corridor anymore. I garnered a lot of stares and glares and gawks on the Southport Corridor. 

Working just off Clark and Belmont, my hair is averagely interesting. I mostly see flaming reds, hot pinks, and bright blues, but not a lot of purple. Sometimes some green, sometimes not. 

But other than a girl working at The Alley, I haven't seen anyone else match their brows.

Please note that in this photo, while the brows coordinate, they are not actually drawn in properly - this was just straight up color applied to my brows for fun. It just gives you a tiny hint of the possibility.