I moved! Sorry if I've been incognito for a while but I moved to a small studio in the 18th that would put Nadine's little flat to shame. (Sorry Nadine, couldn't help myself :-) ). The new crib is Martha Stewart "cozy". I was reading my American magazines on the train to the other day and came across some add for deodorant. Punchline, "For guys who know just one French word 'Men�ge a trois'." My french is a little better than that but you never know. I could one day just blurt it out after being frustrated and in a predicament....which appears to be all the time now. Now what to do what to do....wrestle Jamaican beauracracy and then full Nelson French beauracracy.
Embarrassing tidbit. I'm walking along Sebastopol and a young African approachs me and says, "Vous coiffure?" The meaning of what he meant is completely lost on me. Either he wants to give me a haircut or he wants to know if I cut hair. (If he wanted to know if I wanted a haircut he would have said, "Vous-voulez coiffure?"). Since I didn't want to be bothered I walked off looked at my reflection and walked into the nearest Indian barber. Worked out great. The building lady thinks I'm 15 (quinze) and I have a meeting with a CEO nextweek who won't be impressed that some kid is trying to get a management job. Live and learn people.
For those that forgot, it was my birthday lastweek. 30 is gaining ground on me and I'll be out of excuses of why my life is a really bad game of Lunatic Fringe.