Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Forgive Me Legolas

Well I guess this is a... learning experience. Before this eccentric chapter of my life I always thought that casual sex and the now passé' term "friends with benefits" was only for the sexually deviant and hopeful high-schoolers. Well! Here I am, living with a guy that drives me absolutely BONKERS, (I couldn't even get him to sign the Humane Society boycott of Canadian food in protest of the seal clubbing because "it iz joost not important to [him]")and doing the roommates-that-sometimes-have-sex-thing. If only my virginous fat and pimpled younger self knew what the future held in France.

Not that it's any good, mind you. I insist all the lights are off so I can't see him and focus all will power on Ewan Mcgregor, forbidden professor, or of course, K thoughts. But the later usually leads to a kind of sadness. That's right past self. You who once kissed Orlando Bloom posters and daydreamed about Sonic the Hedgehog and Legolas: You knew about true love. And you would be ASHAMED.

But all this silliness aside, I have two adventures ahead of me. A) I found a ballet studio in centre ville, and I need to make a pilgrimage to Paris to visit the embassy.

In the U.S, when you need something notarized you go to the bank and pay a small fee. Here, when I explained what I needed to B, he thought I was way out of line asking for a bank. "Any-zing official and you must be going to the mayor!" and, bien sur, the mayor resides in the grand palace in centre ville. And yes, you even get to cower, bow, and seek an audience. Alas the lesser mayor of Dijon was no good, (I found out after doing it TWICE) and I must go to Paris.


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