fully aware I'm spiraling out of control. Problem is, I love every minute of it.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Chardonnay, anyone?
Is getting somewhat drunk on a Monday night normal and a facet of growing up...or is it just me, the alcoholic speaking?
Thoughts?
Thoughts?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Paris
Paulina and I have been traveling for three straight weekends. We have been living out of duffel bags. We are tired as shit. No matter, Paris, here we come!
Now the plan wasn't to go to Paris so soon. It's right here, we can go whenever. But the plan was for Shubert and me to meet in Paris. Paulina finds a hotel that's allegedly in Montmartre (it's not) and we book it for three people. Our train gets in a little late and we get lost trying to find the hotel because Parisian metro is retarded.
Sidenote, whoever told me Parisian metro is nice should be slapped. It's worse than the subway. I'd rather be on a 6 train going to Pelham than on any Parisian metro at night. The only credit I can give to their system is that they're more advanced than we are. They have the arrival times of the trains on a big board - the next one and the one after it.
We get into the miserable hotel and find Shubert sleeping on the top bunk. We wake him up, go eat and then go to the Sacre-Coeur basilica since we're near it (that's how far we are from central Paris. We're near the Sacre-Coeur. Whatever). We walk around and take pictures. Get the obligatory Nutella crepe, the usual. Coming back from Dublin I didn't feel well and I felt like I was walking a tightrope between sick and healthy... but something didn't feel right to me that Thursday.
We get back to the hotel and go to bed and it is the hottest fucking room I've ever been in. It was hot and stuff and just miserable. The air didn't move and the windows don't open because apparently it's a security thing. Wtf... really, I'm going to kill myself in Paris? Give me a break.
I wake up in a horrid mood because I didn't sleep and I am pretty sick. The feeling of wanting to die starts now. Shubert turns into a slave driver. We SEE EVERYTHING that one day. We were basically walking nonstop for about 12 hours. We saw the Arc de Triomphe (my life is almost complete, I can finally cross that off), Notre-Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the retarded Statue of Liberty, Hotel des Invalides, and probably other nonsense I can't remember. I was so sick and fed up I just had it with him.
My parents told me they were coming into Paris and my mother gave me the name of their hotel so we get down there and after looking and waiting, the concierge sees my dad and I yell, "PAPAAAAAAA!" and he and my mother run across the street. I tell them I'm sick so we go upstairs to their room where my mother gives me a ton of pills, my dad gives me money and some of the other stuff I requested. We get back to our hotel and somehow Shubert figures out how to open the window and I go to sleep in a drugged up and cool-air stupor.
Saturday morning wake up - I am even worse. Crap. We head to Versailles to meet Stephanie and Jessica. After schlepping around Versailles for several hours I have the idea to change my ticket and come back to Lyon that night. Paulina and I hop on a train at 8 and get to Lyon around ten. Self-medicate and pass out. Very good decision.
Thoughts on Paris, second time around: I think Paris is a dump. Yeah, around the monuments it's nice, but generally speaking, it's not a nice place.
I'm just thrilled we're taking the next few weeks off from traveling. I'm too tired and miss Lyon friends.
Now the plan wasn't to go to Paris so soon. It's right here, we can go whenever. But the plan was for Shubert and me to meet in Paris. Paulina finds a hotel that's allegedly in Montmartre (it's not) and we book it for three people. Our train gets in a little late and we get lost trying to find the hotel because Parisian metro is retarded.
Sidenote, whoever told me Parisian metro is nice should be slapped. It's worse than the subway. I'd rather be on a 6 train going to Pelham than on any Parisian metro at night. The only credit I can give to their system is that they're more advanced than we are. They have the arrival times of the trains on a big board - the next one and the one after it.
We get into the miserable hotel and find Shubert sleeping on the top bunk. We wake him up, go eat and then go to the Sacre-Coeur basilica since we're near it (that's how far we are from central Paris. We're near the Sacre-Coeur. Whatever). We walk around and take pictures. Get the obligatory Nutella crepe, the usual. Coming back from Dublin I didn't feel well and I felt like I was walking a tightrope between sick and healthy... but something didn't feel right to me that Thursday.
We get back to the hotel and go to bed and it is the hottest fucking room I've ever been in. It was hot and stuff and just miserable. The air didn't move and the windows don't open because apparently it's a security thing. Wtf... really, I'm going to kill myself in Paris? Give me a break.
I wake up in a horrid mood because I didn't sleep and I am pretty sick. The feeling of wanting to die starts now. Shubert turns into a slave driver. We SEE EVERYTHING that one day. We were basically walking nonstop for about 12 hours. We saw the Arc de Triomphe (my life is almost complete, I can finally cross that off), Notre-Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the retarded Statue of Liberty, Hotel des Invalides, and probably other nonsense I can't remember. I was so sick and fed up I just had it with him.
My parents told me they were coming into Paris and my mother gave me the name of their hotel so we get down there and after looking and waiting, the concierge sees my dad and I yell, "PAPAAAAAAA!" and he and my mother run across the street. I tell them I'm sick so we go upstairs to their room where my mother gives me a ton of pills, my dad gives me money and some of the other stuff I requested. We get back to our hotel and somehow Shubert figures out how to open the window and I go to sleep in a drugged up and cool-air stupor.
Saturday morning wake up - I am even worse. Crap. We head to Versailles to meet Stephanie and Jessica. After schlepping around Versailles for several hours I have the idea to change my ticket and come back to Lyon that night. Paulina and I hop on a train at 8 and get to Lyon around ten. Self-medicate and pass out. Very good decision.
Thoughts on Paris, second time around: I think Paris is a dump. Yeah, around the monuments it's nice, but generally speaking, it's not a nice place.
I'm just thrilled we're taking the next few weeks off from traveling. I'm too tired and miss Lyon friends.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Dublin
Seeing as how you all read the recap of the drunken bash known as my birthday, you know that Thursday, while experiencing the worst hangover my life thus far, I, along with Emi and Paulina, embarked onward to the Emerald Isle.
The journey to get to Dublin was a journey in itself. We needed to take a train to Paris and then catch a flight from CDG. Much more arduous after a heavy night of drinking. I passed out on the train and Paulina took a video of my head falling. TGV, which is the super-awesome train system, lets you off right in the airport. After running around like chickens without heads (it's a French airport after all) we find the gate and wait for the plane to board. Emi's sitting in front of me and Paulina but we have no one next to us. We both sprawl out on the three seats we have to share. We're passed out, facing each other with one leg on the seats. All of a sudden we hear a BOOM and jolt awake. We landed. No one woke us up. No one told us to fasten our seatbelts our put our seats up. They did, though, let us off on the tarmac! It was so cool. I am such a nerd but it was totally awesome.
I call Mikey, tell him we're tired and hungry. We hop on a bus and witness the tail end of the Irish celebrating Arthur's Day - the 250th birthday of Guiness. And I can't even imagine what the earlier part of the day was like because the end of it was absolutely insane. We get off the bus and Mikey's waiting there with one out of his 6 rooommates, Seth, from Denver. Tall and sooo cute. We walk back to their house and it's brick outside. They don't lie about Irish cold. Now Mikey and his roommates live in a house. We walk into the house. "Should we take off our shoes?" I ask. "No, better if you don't. There might be broken glass on the floor. Bill broke a lamp a few days ago." Uhhhhh, what?
To cut to the chase, the house was a fucking mess. The funny part is that before boarding we were taking bets on how dirty the place was and I didn't think it'd be that bad considering how anal Mikey is. Well, I was mistaken. It was so dirty it makes my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. After having the best kebabs ever on the dirty kitchen table, we go to bed. Friday morning we wake up relatively early because we want to do touristy sightseeing. We come downstairs and basically have seizures looking at the state of the kitchen. We can't take it so we start cleaning it. Paulina attacks the table and the stove and stuff while Emi and I have a go at the dishes. One of the other housemates, Gaurav (pronounced Garv) comes in with his friend Trisha from college, who is visiting from Redding, and we give him a verbal beating. It went something like, "HOW HARD IS IT TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES?! YOU MAKE US SICK!" And we felt sort of bad because Mikey, this other kid Teddy who was at Oktoberfest that weekend, and Gaurav are the clean ones. But whatever, we ripped him a new one. No big deal.
After cleaning, Gaurav offers to take us around with his friend Trisha, who's super sweet. We walk all around Dublin and end up at the Guiness Factory. The factory was really cool and they give you a complimentary pint with ticket purchase. I couldn't stomach it so I gave my pint to Paulina as Trisha gave her pint to Gaurav. Emi was a trooper; she drank all of hers. And then Paulina and Gaurav just shotgunned 2 pints. It was incredible. Paulina was so drunk at like 4 in the afternoon. Afterward we went for lunch and Mikey joined us - he ordered the weirdest things. We took a post-lunch walk to the Harp Bridge and the Spire before going back to the house and passing out before going out.
That night a gigantic fight ensued between my loving and myself so I'm just going to skip it. Although I did spend some time in Temple Bar, which was fun, but no matter. After what was in my opinion an absolutely disastrous Friday night, we woke up Saturday morning to go hiking. Paulina was absolutely dying to see green Irish countryside so we took a bus ride to Marlay Park, which was supposed to be the start of the Wicklow Way. Except it wasn't. After walking ten minutes to one part and then walking back to the Farmer's Market to get food and then walking back to where we started, we realized we weren't at the start of the Wicklow Way at all. It took a good 3 hours to get from point A to point B but it was so worth it. The view of Dublin from all the way up there was just gorgeous. Flipping cold, but gorgeous. Paulina got her nature fix. Mike and I made up. All was right with the world.
Until the trek down. I would rather walk up than walk down because walking down is just an unnatural movement for me. I have to work extra hard not go to flying downhill and it's just not fun. We finally got down and while waiting for the bus, me, Emi, and Paulina passed out leaving Mike to watch out for it.
After eating Irish-Thai food, which wasn't half bad, and lots of napping, we went out to Copper Face Jacks, which was a great Irish club/bar thing. Exponentially better than the fiasco that happened Friday night. Some Irish dude was in love with me and would come up to me every 10 minutes or so to kiss me on the cheek.
Sunday was time to go home. We got to board on the tarmac! It was just as awesome. We got into Lyon around 8, came home, and fell asleep. And it was good.
The journey to get to Dublin was a journey in itself. We needed to take a train to Paris and then catch a flight from CDG. Much more arduous after a heavy night of drinking. I passed out on the train and Paulina took a video of my head falling. TGV, which is the super-awesome train system, lets you off right in the airport. After running around like chickens without heads (it's a French airport after all) we find the gate and wait for the plane to board. Emi's sitting in front of me and Paulina but we have no one next to us. We both sprawl out on the three seats we have to share. We're passed out, facing each other with one leg on the seats. All of a sudden we hear a BOOM and jolt awake. We landed. No one woke us up. No one told us to fasten our seatbelts our put our seats up. They did, though, let us off on the tarmac! It was so cool. I am such a nerd but it was totally awesome.
I call Mikey, tell him we're tired and hungry. We hop on a bus and witness the tail end of the Irish celebrating Arthur's Day - the 250th birthday of Guiness. And I can't even imagine what the earlier part of the day was like because the end of it was absolutely insane. We get off the bus and Mikey's waiting there with one out of his 6 rooommates, Seth, from Denver. Tall and sooo cute. We walk back to their house and it's brick outside. They don't lie about Irish cold. Now Mikey and his roommates live in a house. We walk into the house. "Should we take off our shoes?" I ask. "No, better if you don't. There might be broken glass on the floor. Bill broke a lamp a few days ago." Uhhhhh, what?
To cut to the chase, the house was a fucking mess. The funny part is that before boarding we were taking bets on how dirty the place was and I didn't think it'd be that bad considering how anal Mikey is. Well, I was mistaken. It was so dirty it makes my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. After having the best kebabs ever on the dirty kitchen table, we go to bed. Friday morning we wake up relatively early because we want to do touristy sightseeing. We come downstairs and basically have seizures looking at the state of the kitchen. We can't take it so we start cleaning it. Paulina attacks the table and the stove and stuff while Emi and I have a go at the dishes. One of the other housemates, Gaurav (pronounced Garv) comes in with his friend Trisha from college, who is visiting from Redding, and we give him a verbal beating. It went something like, "HOW HARD IS IT TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES?! YOU MAKE US SICK!" And we felt sort of bad because Mikey, this other kid Teddy who was at Oktoberfest that weekend, and Gaurav are the clean ones. But whatever, we ripped him a new one. No big deal.
After cleaning, Gaurav offers to take us around with his friend Trisha, who's super sweet. We walk all around Dublin and end up at the Guiness Factory. The factory was really cool and they give you a complimentary pint with ticket purchase. I couldn't stomach it so I gave my pint to Paulina as Trisha gave her pint to Gaurav. Emi was a trooper; she drank all of hers. And then Paulina and Gaurav just shotgunned 2 pints. It was incredible. Paulina was so drunk at like 4 in the afternoon. Afterward we went for lunch and Mikey joined us - he ordered the weirdest things. We took a post-lunch walk to the Harp Bridge and the Spire before going back to the house and passing out before going out.
That night a gigantic fight ensued between my loving and myself so I'm just going to skip it. Although I did spend some time in Temple Bar, which was fun, but no matter. After what was in my opinion an absolutely disastrous Friday night, we woke up Saturday morning to go hiking. Paulina was absolutely dying to see green Irish countryside so we took a bus ride to Marlay Park, which was supposed to be the start of the Wicklow Way. Except it wasn't. After walking ten minutes to one part and then walking back to the Farmer's Market to get food and then walking back to where we started, we realized we weren't at the start of the Wicklow Way at all. It took a good 3 hours to get from point A to point B but it was so worth it. The view of Dublin from all the way up there was just gorgeous. Flipping cold, but gorgeous. Paulina got her nature fix. Mike and I made up. All was right with the world.
Until the trek down. I would rather walk up than walk down because walking down is just an unnatural movement for me. I have to work extra hard not go to flying downhill and it's just not fun. We finally got down and while waiting for the bus, me, Emi, and Paulina passed out leaving Mike to watch out for it.
After eating Irish-Thai food, which wasn't half bad, and lots of napping, we went out to Copper Face Jacks, which was a great Irish club/bar thing. Exponentially better than the fiasco that happened Friday night. Some Irish dude was in love with me and would come up to me every 10 minutes or so to kiss me on the cheek.
Sunday was time to go home. We got to board on the tarmac! It was just as awesome. We got into Lyon around 8, came home, and fell asleep. And it was good.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
What I Remember of My Birthday
Even though it was on a Wednesday, I knew I'd be able to do it big, just because everyone here doesn't really care about classes (myself included, especially since Wednesdays I only have class from 3-6). I decided to pregame by the river, like we do it, then go on to Ayers Rock, which is this awesome Aussie bar/club thing. Paulina was such a trooper because she had class Thursday at 8am. And then we had the train to Paris at 6pm to get to Dublin. Ouch.
I get home from class and start getting ready, modeling different attire while Paulina's knee-deep in Lysol in the bathtub (cough, Tanya). Meanwhile we're also making dinner. We had to be done by around 9, 9:15 so we could all meet up at this girl Cerise's residence and head down to Guillotière together around 9:30. This wasn't happening. Paulina said we were waiting for Stephanie and Jessica, which made no sense to me. None. Because Stephanie and Jessica LIVE in Guillotière. Maggie from upstairs asked me to get her and Maria when we were ready to head out. Jessica said they left at 8:50. We live ten minutes away. It's 9:24. "If they're not here by 9:30 I'm going to get pissed," I said. "What time is it?" Paulina asked. "9:24." I texted them 2 minutes later and they said they were a block away so I told Paulina I was going to get Maggie & Co (her French boyfriend Cyril's birthday was the same day, too). She tried to stop me from getting them and I kept saying it'd save time. I came upstairs and came back down in about 3 minutes. I walk into our flat with Maggie, Cyril, and Maria and there, standing, are Stephanie, Jessica, Paulina with balloons all over the place and a cake on the table with candles burning in it, singing Happy Birthday. Not only was I a deer caught in headlights, I was an embarrassed deer caught in headlights. Jessica starts cutting the cake while Paulina takes out this Litchi alcohol thing from the fridge and starts pouring that for everyone. Okay, I guess we'll pregame here.
They explained they were late because they ran to get the cake (delicious) and change and all that. "Where did all of these balloons come from?" I asked. "I blew them up while your bitch ass was in class," Paulina said. HAHAHA no wonder when I came home she was passed out.
After shoving cake into our mouths and changing arrangements, we hopped on the metro and went up to the river. I told Paulina to invite her French boo, Sebastien, who brought his friend I met once before, Benoit (Ben for short). Besides that, though, EVERYONE was there, and when I say everyone I mean it. Even British Ben, who I was in love with but not anymore. After I tried Cerise's pastis, which is the most vile thing on Earth, I gather part of the herd and we head down to Ayers, under the direction of French Ben. Along the way we found out it closes at 1 so we're like, okay, Flemmings after.
We get to Ayers and it is poppin'. We post up at the bar and start taking shots of this blue vodka mess. 4 shots in I am stone cold sober. And then everyone starts buying shots for the birthday girl. I need something stronger and quick. Chris (my favorite Kiwi, re: my profile pic on FB), Jerry, and Megan show up. "Chris, you can do anything. Get me a straight shot of tequila. Jerry, I'll take another blue vodka thing. Megan, I'll take different colored vodka thing." I downed three of those in quick succession and then the happiness followed. Ayers closed and the lot of us were steadily moving to Flemmings in Vieux Lyon. I decide to hop on John McClain's back - he's like 6'4. Carries me two blocks or something and out of nowhere Sebastien's head comes through my legs (haha) and I'm sitting on his shoulders. I steal his fagalish beret and I am on top of the world. He was deliberately wobbling me around and forcefully smashed us into a garbage dump thing. I had enough of his near death experiences so I hop on Chris instead. Now he kept trying to tip me into the river but he got me like around the corner from Flemmings. He wins. Truly a man with a mission.
I walk into Flemmings and there are even more people there. I see Brit Ben and tell him to take a tequila shot with me. Even before this shot, I was pretty drunk and he was just wasted beyond compare. He had trouble standing. Perfect opportunity. We take the shot. I walk over to Paulina and drunkenly ask her to find out if he likes me. I'm juvenile, I know. Meanwhile some French dude named Xavier is telling me I'm the most beautiful girl he's seen and I'm like, "dude, come oooooon now." Out of nowhere he's like, "So you go home with me?" He cut to the chase haha.
Now here's where my night starts to get fuzzy. I remember taking more shots with French Ben, who so obviously had a thing for me, then with Stephanie (?), then with .... okay, I can't remember, definitely more people...maybe Tom? Whatever. The bartender found out it was my birthday so he gave me a shot of something vodka tasting with whipped cream on top and a candle. Everyone sang happy birthday again :) I blew it out and swallowed it. Next to it was a vodka-kahlua disaster that I took also. Okay, I am at blackout drunk. Everything following this are stories people told me mixed with odd things I remember.
I think it was closing time, 3:30, for Flemmings. Come to think of it, I don't even know where Flemmings is. No matter. Everyone is saying their goodbyes to me (I think) and French Ben does the whole bisous thing. He kisses me on one cheek, then the other, and then he just kisses me, several times (sidenote: Apparently I told Jessica, Paulina and Stephanie: GIGGLE GIGGLE HE KISSED ME HAR HAR I think he likes me." To which Paulina said, "YOU THINK?!" But my recollection of this is sketchy, although I'm pretty positive it happened).
Anyway, I'm stumbling out with Matt and Megan, who said they'd take me home in a cab a) because Matt was staying over and b) Megan lives across the street. Apparently I sat on a bench and said I didn't want to move (can you blame me) and then Paulina yelled at me (as usual). She apparently went with Sebastien on bikes (explains why I was so upset I didn't know where she was) because she gets hella motion sick. Somehow, Matt and Megan found the last cab in Bellecour, but not before I peed in some bush. They stuff me in the back and I pass out. They wake me up what seems like a week later and I see the school. Fuck. I do not want to move. Now here's what I am really curious about - how I was able to punch the code in to get into the building. I remember I took my lenses out and I sat in a chair in a kitchen. Someone wakes me up. Paulina. Apparently I was slumped over in a near 90 degree angle. Someone else picks me up and takes off my jacket. Sebastien. He grabs me under the arms, walks me into my room, puts me to bed and covers me. He tells Matt to go sleep next to me.
I wake up around 7 because I have to pee. I look next to me and see Matt. What happened last night? I look down and see I am still in my clothes. Also realize I am still very drunk. I hear moving - Paulina getting ready to go to class. I have worst dry mouth in history. Can't even open it to drunk. I go to the bathroom to change, wash off my face. Collapse into bed. Pass out some more. Hear Paulina walk in again, send Matt on his way. Too hungover to sleep. Look around, the flat is a MESS.
We shuffle out of bed. Paulina sits down and starts eating leftover birthday cake. Man that was a sad sight haha. Around 1:30 I decided to shower to feel like I came back to life. Eat some bread to mop up the alcohol in my body. We packed and then headed for train to Paris and then flight to Dublin.
Birthday French Style = EPIC.
I get home from class and start getting ready, modeling different attire while Paulina's knee-deep in Lysol in the bathtub (cough, Tanya). Meanwhile we're also making dinner. We had to be done by around 9, 9:15 so we could all meet up at this girl Cerise's residence and head down to Guillotière together around 9:30. This wasn't happening. Paulina said we were waiting for Stephanie and Jessica, which made no sense to me. None. Because Stephanie and Jessica LIVE in Guillotière. Maggie from upstairs asked me to get her and Maria when we were ready to head out. Jessica said they left at 8:50. We live ten minutes away. It's 9:24. "If they're not here by 9:30 I'm going to get pissed," I said. "What time is it?" Paulina asked. "9:24." I texted them 2 minutes later and they said they were a block away so I told Paulina I was going to get Maggie & Co (her French boyfriend Cyril's birthday was the same day, too). She tried to stop me from getting them and I kept saying it'd save time. I came upstairs and came back down in about 3 minutes. I walk into our flat with Maggie, Cyril, and Maria and there, standing, are Stephanie, Jessica, Paulina with balloons all over the place and a cake on the table with candles burning in it, singing Happy Birthday. Not only was I a deer caught in headlights, I was an embarrassed deer caught in headlights. Jessica starts cutting the cake while Paulina takes out this Litchi alcohol thing from the fridge and starts pouring that for everyone. Okay, I guess we'll pregame here.
They explained they were late because they ran to get the cake (delicious) and change and all that. "Where did all of these balloons come from?" I asked. "I blew them up while your bitch ass was in class," Paulina said. HAHAHA no wonder when I came home she was passed out.
After shoving cake into our mouths and changing arrangements, we hopped on the metro and went up to the river. I told Paulina to invite her French boo, Sebastien, who brought his friend I met once before, Benoit (Ben for short). Besides that, though, EVERYONE was there, and when I say everyone I mean it. Even British Ben, who I was in love with but not anymore. After I tried Cerise's pastis, which is the most vile thing on Earth, I gather part of the herd and we head down to Ayers, under the direction of French Ben. Along the way we found out it closes at 1 so we're like, okay, Flemmings after.
We get to Ayers and it is poppin'. We post up at the bar and start taking shots of this blue vodka mess. 4 shots in I am stone cold sober. And then everyone starts buying shots for the birthday girl. I need something stronger and quick. Chris (my favorite Kiwi, re: my profile pic on FB), Jerry, and Megan show up. "Chris, you can do anything. Get me a straight shot of tequila. Jerry, I'll take another blue vodka thing. Megan, I'll take different colored vodka thing." I downed three of those in quick succession and then the happiness followed. Ayers closed and the lot of us were steadily moving to Flemmings in Vieux Lyon. I decide to hop on John McClain's back - he's like 6'4. Carries me two blocks or something and out of nowhere Sebastien's head comes through my legs (haha) and I'm sitting on his shoulders. I steal his fagalish beret and I am on top of the world. He was deliberately wobbling me around and forcefully smashed us into a garbage dump thing. I had enough of his near death experiences so I hop on Chris instead. Now he kept trying to tip me into the river but he got me like around the corner from Flemmings. He wins. Truly a man with a mission.
I walk into Flemmings and there are even more people there. I see Brit Ben and tell him to take a tequila shot with me. Even before this shot, I was pretty drunk and he was just wasted beyond compare. He had trouble standing. Perfect opportunity. We take the shot. I walk over to Paulina and drunkenly ask her to find out if he likes me. I'm juvenile, I know. Meanwhile some French dude named Xavier is telling me I'm the most beautiful girl he's seen and I'm like, "dude, come oooooon now." Out of nowhere he's like, "So you go home with me?" He cut to the chase haha.
Now here's where my night starts to get fuzzy. I remember taking more shots with French Ben, who so obviously had a thing for me, then with Stephanie (?), then with .... okay, I can't remember, definitely more people...maybe Tom? Whatever. The bartender found out it was my birthday so he gave me a shot of something vodka tasting with whipped cream on top and a candle. Everyone sang happy birthday again :) I blew it out and swallowed it. Next to it was a vodka-kahlua disaster that I took also. Okay, I am at blackout drunk. Everything following this are stories people told me mixed with odd things I remember.
I think it was closing time, 3:30, for Flemmings. Come to think of it, I don't even know where Flemmings is. No matter. Everyone is saying their goodbyes to me (I think) and French Ben does the whole bisous thing. He kisses me on one cheek, then the other, and then he just kisses me, several times (sidenote: Apparently I told Jessica, Paulina and Stephanie: GIGGLE GIGGLE HE KISSED ME HAR HAR I think he likes me." To which Paulina said, "YOU THINK?!" But my recollection of this is sketchy, although I'm pretty positive it happened).
Anyway, I'm stumbling out with Matt and Megan, who said they'd take me home in a cab a) because Matt was staying over and b) Megan lives across the street. Apparently I sat on a bench and said I didn't want to move (can you blame me) and then Paulina yelled at me (as usual). She apparently went with Sebastien on bikes (explains why I was so upset I didn't know where she was) because she gets hella motion sick. Somehow, Matt and Megan found the last cab in Bellecour, but not before I peed in some bush. They stuff me in the back and I pass out. They wake me up what seems like a week later and I see the school. Fuck. I do not want to move. Now here's what I am really curious about - how I was able to punch the code in to get into the building. I remember I took my lenses out and I sat in a chair in a kitchen. Someone wakes me up. Paulina. Apparently I was slumped over in a near 90 degree angle. Someone else picks me up and takes off my jacket. Sebastien. He grabs me under the arms, walks me into my room, puts me to bed and covers me. He tells Matt to go sleep next to me.
I wake up around 7 because I have to pee. I look next to me and see Matt. What happened last night? I look down and see I am still in my clothes. Also realize I am still very drunk. I hear moving - Paulina getting ready to go to class. I have worst dry mouth in history. Can't even open it to drunk. I go to the bathroom to change, wash off my face. Collapse into bed. Pass out some more. Hear Paulina walk in again, send Matt on his way. Too hungover to sleep. Look around, the flat is a MESS.
We shuffle out of bed. Paulina sits down and starts eating leftover birthday cake. Man that was a sad sight haha. Around 1:30 I decided to shower to feel like I came back to life. Eat some bread to mop up the alcohol in my body. We packed and then headed for train to Paris and then flight to Dublin.
Birthday French Style = EPIC.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Nice and Monaco
Herein follows the story of the first-ever, cherry-poppin' study abroad trip. This one led us to Nice and Monaco.
Jessica, Stephanie, Paulina and I had tickets leaving from Lyon to Nice at 6:35 am Friday morning so we could get to Nice around 11. Long ass train ride. However, seeing as how P and I hate packing more than life itself, we went out to a party at a flat near ours. We knew this was a really bad idea but we also knew they would be pregaming and then heading out to Vieux Lyon, in which case we'd head back home as they were leaving to center city. Everyone started filtering out around midnight and we got back home around 12:30.
Now we really to pack. Shit. If we had to be at the train station say 6:15, we needed to be up before 5 to get ready and get out. A lot of fumbling and swearing later, we got to bed around 2:30. In what seemed like 5 minutes, the alarm rang. Ugh. Fast-forwarding, the train left at 6:35 sharp and we were seated right next to Le Bar. Score.
After making obscene amounts of noise for about an hour, we decided to nap, until loud assholes boarded at Marseilles, but we knocked out when they got off at Aix-en-Provence. However, I noticed the sky was the same color at 8am as it was at 5am. Uh oh. Horrific thunderstorm ensued while on train. I'm the only one who brought an umbrella. Shit.
We finally disembark, ass numbness kicks in, and it's dripping a little but cold as all hell, at least for Nice. We find our hotel and scour for food, but what happens next - it starts pouring and thunderstorming. Awwww yeah! Seeing as how it was brick cold on the train, we got no sleep, and it was wet and cold in Nice, I stocked up on some Vitamin C as we wandered through the city. Sure it was raining. Hard. But we made the best of it. A bunch of ridiculous crap happened along the way but the city itself is beautiful. We schlepped up and down Nice and finally crawled back to our hotel. We decided to take a nap so we would be energized by the time Jerry, Daniel and all of the Spanish arrived. Well, Jerry and Daniel took the wrong train because they're retarded.
At around 10:30 pm the four of us went out for dinner and during the 25 minute walk to the hotel, it started to thunderstorm like nobody's business. I left my umbrella in the room because it really looked like it was clearing. Let's just say we owned the Wet Dog Chic look. We werked it fo' sho. Jerry and Daniel got in around 1am as we were drying off.
Saturday morning we got up super early to get to Monaco. No one else was able to open their eyes because they went to some gay club the night before and got home at 5 while we take our sightseeing seriously. Jerry did join us, though. We had a nice French breakfast, facing the ominous dark cloud coming our way. We hopped on the train to Monaco and a half hour we were there. So was the rain. All 13 or 14 of us (Daniel and the Spanish made it as well) walked around Monaco for hours and it was sooooooo gorgeous. Smelled like Park Avenue but worse. The Spanish saw some Spanish socialite and I don't even remember what the Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, exotic car count was. The Monte Carlo though was out of this world. No cameras allowed inside. By midday the rain stopped, which was nice. I can't understand why the Monaco Royal Family palace thing needs guards. Who the hell is going to rob/attack/hijack/assassinate the most useless people on Earth? For reals now.
Sadly on the way back we didn't get to stop at Villefranche which has absolutely breathtaking views of the coast, but what we saw from Princess Grace's garden and the like was also just as amazing. I learned I can't fucking stand traveling in large groups, or traveling with the Spanish, considering I don't even like the Spanish. Hence why Dublin was a better trip and the others will be even better.
Sunday was another half-day of touring Nice before our train back to Lyon. Which was over an hour and a half late, which means we got home over an hour and a half late. But it was one of the best times of my life, sitting on that train, with my 3 New York bitches and wild'n'out. Getting up for an 8am class blew hard but it was all in good fun.
All in all, great first trip. Nice was nothing too special, but Monaco was fantastic.
Jessica, Stephanie, Paulina and I had tickets leaving from Lyon to Nice at 6:35 am Friday morning so we could get to Nice around 11. Long ass train ride. However, seeing as how P and I hate packing more than life itself, we went out to a party at a flat near ours. We knew this was a really bad idea but we also knew they would be pregaming and then heading out to Vieux Lyon, in which case we'd head back home as they were leaving to center city. Everyone started filtering out around midnight and we got back home around 12:30.
Now we really to pack. Shit. If we had to be at the train station say 6:15, we needed to be up before 5 to get ready and get out. A lot of fumbling and swearing later, we got to bed around 2:30. In what seemed like 5 minutes, the alarm rang. Ugh. Fast-forwarding, the train left at 6:35 sharp and we were seated right next to Le Bar. Score.
After making obscene amounts of noise for about an hour, we decided to nap, until loud assholes boarded at Marseilles, but we knocked out when they got off at Aix-en-Provence. However, I noticed the sky was the same color at 8am as it was at 5am. Uh oh. Horrific thunderstorm ensued while on train. I'm the only one who brought an umbrella. Shit.
We finally disembark, ass numbness kicks in, and it's dripping a little but cold as all hell, at least for Nice. We find our hotel and scour for food, but what happens next - it starts pouring and thunderstorming. Awwww yeah! Seeing as how it was brick cold on the train, we got no sleep, and it was wet and cold in Nice, I stocked up on some Vitamin C as we wandered through the city. Sure it was raining. Hard. But we made the best of it. A bunch of ridiculous crap happened along the way but the city itself is beautiful. We schlepped up and down Nice and finally crawled back to our hotel. We decided to take a nap so we would be energized by the time Jerry, Daniel and all of the Spanish arrived. Well, Jerry and Daniel took the wrong train because they're retarded.
At around 10:30 pm the four of us went out for dinner and during the 25 minute walk to the hotel, it started to thunderstorm like nobody's business. I left my umbrella in the room because it really looked like it was clearing. Let's just say we owned the Wet Dog Chic look. We werked it fo' sho. Jerry and Daniel got in around 1am as we were drying off.
Saturday morning we got up super early to get to Monaco. No one else was able to open their eyes because they went to some gay club the night before and got home at 5 while we take our sightseeing seriously. Jerry did join us, though. We had a nice French breakfast, facing the ominous dark cloud coming our way. We hopped on the train to Monaco and a half hour we were there. So was the rain. All 13 or 14 of us (Daniel and the Spanish made it as well) walked around Monaco for hours and it was sooooooo gorgeous. Smelled like Park Avenue but worse. The Spanish saw some Spanish socialite and I don't even remember what the Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, exotic car count was. The Monte Carlo though was out of this world. No cameras allowed inside. By midday the rain stopped, which was nice. I can't understand why the Monaco Royal Family palace thing needs guards. Who the hell is going to rob/attack/hijack/assassinate the most useless people on Earth? For reals now.
Sadly on the way back we didn't get to stop at Villefranche which has absolutely breathtaking views of the coast, but what we saw from Princess Grace's garden and the like was also just as amazing. I learned I can't fucking stand traveling in large groups, or traveling with the Spanish, considering I don't even like the Spanish. Hence why Dublin was a better trip and the others will be even better.
Sunday was another half-day of touring Nice before our train back to Lyon. Which was over an hour and a half late, which means we got home over an hour and a half late. But it was one of the best times of my life, sitting on that train, with my 3 New York bitches and wild'n'out. Getting up for an 8am class blew hard but it was all in good fun.
All in all, great first trip. Nice was nothing too special, but Monaco was fantastic.
Monday, September 28, 2009
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