So after one of the worst nights that I have ever had*, including (but not limited to) having my stuff stolen, getting manhandled by a bouncer and stepping in vomit (not my own, thank you very much), I am feeling a little homesick.
Shout outs to the things I wish I could have packed in my suitcase:
Jimmy Johns Soaked In Blue Moon and Covered In Cheese Curds. I miss my good old Wisconsin food and drink! (ok, I know that Jimmy Johns isn’t only in Wisconsin, but I only eat it in Wisconsin, so it counts). Everything here is so healthy and well-prepared…it really is sickening. When I got back at three in the morning last night, for drunk food, I made myself a SALAD. Now, I am consequently having an identity crisis, which I expect to remain for the better part of the day.
Weird Smelling Clothes of Questionable Origins for Cheap. Little known fact: thrift stores were actually invented so college students could buy cheap clothes to wear to themed parties thinly veiling the main purpose of getting completely wasted. Stupid fact: I can’t find them anywhere in France! All of the French clothes stores are really nice, and expensive. Thus, they are not conducive to outfits that will be worn to themed events and that, statistically, have a 78% chance of being vommed on at some point in the night. Last night, the hell that I went to had a neon theme (which is, coincidentally, how I have always pictured Hell). Although my sorority days have rendered my closet full of such attire, I didn’t bring any of it with me – too busy packing things like socks and pictures of Ryan Gosling. But I had nowhere to go to find something cheap! Thank God, I eventually came upon a Claire’s and bought myself an elegant, neon-green tutu.
People That Will Call Me An Idiot and Try To Dutch Oven Me. To my friends and family that are reading this: I’ll admit it, I actually really miss you guys. As much as I love all the people I’ve met here and the friends I’ve made, there’s something about the comfort of being around those you’ve known for a long time that nothing can replace. They will call you out on your bullshit, they will do awkward dance moves to inappropriate rap music to cheer you up, they will make unflattering nicknames for you like “Stumps” and try to get people to call you by them (thanks to my lovely brothers for that one). All I know is I’m about to go on a hugging marathon of the century when I get home, so be prepared!
Alright, that’s all for now. I’m about to lay in bed with some Law and Order SVU and get reacquainted with the two people I miss the most: Benson and Stabler.
*Awkwardly the club that I went to was hosting what many French people told me was “the party of the year”. Although, I am know thinking I translated incorrectly. I think what they actually meant to describe was “deathtrap 2012 where you have to wait half an hour to go to the bathroom and being an asshole is completely acceptable.” Rough translation.