Cardboard Box Surfing At 2 AM

Let’s get right into it….best and worst parts of my last week:


  • Learning to Stay Up Until 6 am. This weekend my friends and I headed to a techno music festival and it was amazing. I’m not actually a huge fan of that kind of music because I feel like it kind of all sounds the same, but I thought it would be a good experience (or a terrible experience that I could write about here). After having some drinks and putting on the appropriate amount of glitter*, we headed out to get on one of the special buses that was taking people to the festival. There were SO many people waiting for the buses when we got there — trying to get on the bus was literally like how it must have been trying to get to a lifeboat on the Titanic. Luckily one of my friends was the only one who could figure out how to open the door at the end of the bus (little known fact: French people are notorious for their opening-doors deficiencies) so we were able to get on relatively unscathed.** Once we got there, it was pretty much all a crazy blur of dancing, trippy light shows, and inappropriate interactions (one of my friends got hit in the face….whether it was on purpose or not remains debatable). Only downside to the evening was losing my friends at one point and spending half an hour trying to find them. Moral of the story: when in doubt, check by the porta-potties.


    These are what French porta-potties look like! At the time I took this picture, I thought it was very important to document.

  • My Bet’s On The Guy In Tweed. Another good thing about the festival was that it provided an opportunity for me to buy a new outfit. I was at a little discount store, and contemplating buying a crappy 5 euro tshirt, when a fight broke out between a tiny Asian woman working the register and an elderly French gentleman and I realized that I had to buy the shirt so I would have an excuse to stand there and watch the whole thing unravel. I’m still not sure exactly what they were fighting about, but from what I could collect I think it had to do with the man exchanging a pair of jeans and not having the proper receipt. So the guy and the woman are yelling at each other, meanwhile the other guy working there is calling the police. THEN each of them is holding an end of this receipt and fighting to get it, all while the man’s wife is shouting in angry French and the other people working there are talking to each other in angry Chinese (followed by the woman hysterically crying). I think the best part of this whole mess was that all the French people in the store could not seem to care less  about any of it and continued their shopping as if nothing completely bizarre was happening. Let me tell you, that shirt was worth the 5 euros, and more.
  • There Is a God. Praise the freaking Lord! FINALLY a place to get Diet Coke with ice! Now if they could just get going on the water fountains thing…


    These are some of my new friends! See Mom? All your worrying was for nothing!


  • Rats With Wings. Pigeons. I hate them. Well, actually I hate all birds, and they are all over the place here. People seem to think I am crazy when I shudder every time a bird gets close to me, but let me just point out two things: 1. They have beaks, and 2. We have eyes….I don’t think anymore needs to be said. Also, someone needs to give these birds a pep talk, because they are seriously lacking in the motivation department. If I could fly, I would not be hanging out on the ground by McDonald’s eating old French fries….just sayin’.
  • How Do You Say “Bitch You Trippin” In French. So there is an older lady who lives in my dorm who is in charge and, let me tell you, girl is crazy. Apparently, my room is directly above where her dogs sleep, and for some reason she has gotten it into her head that I walk too loudly and it wakes them up. This has resulted in her storming up the stairs to my room multiple times to scold me in French that I don’t understand. Long story short, I must now tiptoe around my room to make sure I don’t wake up her ugly dogs (sorry, kind of mean, but my dog IS way cuter). I have decided that once a week I’m going to jump around in my room, then hurry and lock the door and run upstairs, so that by the time she comes up to yell at me, I won’t be there and she will be very confused. I’ll either do that, or continue to be completely subservient….yeah, probably the latter.
  • People Are Probably Planning My Intervention. I currently look like a meth addict due to all the mosquito bite scabs I have all over my arms. I don’t know how I am getting so many of them, but it’s not cute.


    These are the kind of mean things my Mom sends me to make me miss home. For the record, anyone who wants to buy this from Culver’s and send it to me is more than welcome to.

Because I don’t want to end this post with the image of my disgusting mosquito bite arms, I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from the week that came from a French guy we met at a hookah bar: “French girls don’t have swag.”


American swag. I will provide no further context for this photo.

*Life Rule #137: If you use even the tiniest bit of glitter at any time, for any purpose, it will consequently appear on everything you own for the next five to ten days. Plan accordingly.

**If you are a guy and you push/hit/elbow a girl at a public event such as a concert, festival, or in line to buy the new iPhone, you are an asshole. ‘Nuff said.


2 responses

  1. I know I’m obnoxious and comment on like every post BUT I just am living through you.

    I love your comment about pigeons. I HATE THEM. I didn’t know I hated them until I lived there. I hate them so much that I was in Morocco and this guy was throwing feed at the tourist so the pigeons would swarm. He threw it toward me and I ran to the other side of the street and had a complete panic attack. Shaking, crying, ya know that whole thing. Then my friends thought it was funny to always throw food by me so the pigeons would come. Long story short, pigeons are the worst creatures ever. They freak me out more than cockroaches. That’s saying a lot.

    biz, (bc I love using French slang)

  2. No I love when people comment….it legitimately makes me so happy!

    That sounds terrible! My friend here described a similar experience and I can only say that I would also have a complete panic attack, followed by PTSD for the next 2-4 weeks. I legitimately do not understand why we have not killed all the pigeons in the world yet (ok, that may be a little extreme, but you get my point).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: