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After having a really raucous laugh last night with some 1L friends and a prospective student, I'm back...kind of.
Here are some photos of my trip last month to London and Paris. I had an unfortunate incident in a Louis Vuitton store, the trauma of which continues to haunt me. If you're a "Sex and the City" fan, it's in the vein of when Carrie fell in Dior. Anyway, here goes:
The miso black cod at Nobu. If Helen had the face that could sink ships, this cod has the taste that people should marry.
This is the sis and me at St. John's formal hall dinner. The dinner itself was probably one of the most heinous meals I've ever eaten -- a mackerel covered in what I can only be led to believe is the English answer to puttanesca sauce. Afterwards, I wandered the lawns of St. John's searching in vain for a bathroom to vomit in and ended up instead at a bar insulting my sister's Dutch friend. There's only two things I hate in this world; the first is people who are intolerant of other cultures ..
. and the Dutch.
This is a photo of everything that's wrong with England. The top right corner is part of a variety pack of cheeses I purchased at the Sainsbury's in Cambridge, which was fine, except that one of the cheeses was named "Chuckles." Now, I'm no dairy farmer, but I'm pretty sure that if, when naming your cheese, the best you can come up with is a type of laughter, something's missing from your cheese. The Rennies and Gaviscon are England's answer to Pepcid AC and Rolaids. Believe me, after three days in the Queen's land, I needed it. In terms of food, England...how do I say it? Oh yes. Sucks.
This is the first waiter we had in Paris. He had a great ass. I tried to get a better photo for about 20 minutes, but this is the best I could do. It helped that his jeans were ridiculously tight and Euro-trashy.
Vive le France! This protest wasn't part of the ones everyone has been talking about with the employment laws (although we did see those later -- yay bonfire!). These particular French people are really, really pissed off that the physical education classes in schools are not of a higher quality and greater variety. The irony in this situation is, by marching angrily through the streets, aren't you essentially just going on a really long walk? Through Paris, the architectural capitol of the world? Now I don't know about you, but that sounds like quality physical education to me.
Oh, Hugue, we hardly knew ye. This is a photo taken at Fauchon, a gourmet food store in Paris, which is pretty much like my mecca. Hugue was the sommelier there, and he took us on a fantastical journey vis-a-vis the wines in France. Instead of touring the Louvre, I spent a second day with Hugue. Instead of becoming a lawyer, I'd be happy to move to France and become Hugue's expatriat love interest.
We met up with my English friend AC for a few days, and this photo was taken at Ice Bar, which was easily one of the coolest places we went. Get it? The joke I just made there, with the ice, and the "cool" reference? I'm funny.
PS - We didn't get to keep the parkas.
This picture was taken at the end of my trip, right after I realized that my digital camera had a swivel display that lets you take pictures of yourself without the guesswork. We're giggling because we'd been using guesswork all week to take pictures of ourselves at basically every major tourist attraction in Paris.
Reunion! The English UT'ers, another 3L, and me. Notice how TP (the only dude) is wearing a sweatshirt that has embroidered "Ho ho ho"s all over it. I complimented him on his festive yet completely out of season attire. He paused, looked down, and said, "Oh shit. Am I wearing a Christmas jumper?"
Yes, Tom, yes. Unless somewhere there's a green and white sweatshirt with the word "bitches" tattooed all over it, I'm pretty sure the sweatshirt's referring to the noise Santa makes when he rides his sleigh.
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