The best of laughs, Volume: 2008, Issue: January

1. On Martin Luther King Day, I had a 100% genuine "Office" (that one show on tv) moment. We told one of our coworkers to build us a snowman outside our window, so he did. And then he decorated him with ink from our stamps and candy from the candy jar. For some reason, we laughed until we cried, it was so funny to us...

Exhibit A: Snowbuddy

Then, we told the security guards that there was a creepy stalker staring at us from the window, so they rushed over to the rescue, exclaimed "oh no" and proceeded to give the snowman a new identity.

Exhibit B: Snowbuddy intact with the ugly, dated sunglasses the security guards at the library trade off wearing and spraying with mace.

2. This conversation (between my friend and her roommate):

So I was in the kitchen and she walked in and said..."It smells like fish."

I looked at her tuna can that was sitting on the counter and said, "Well didn't you have tuna?"

And she said, "No, I had chicken of the sea."

Me: "Jenn, you know that's tuna right?"

Jenn: "But it says chicken on the can."

Me: "Yeah, chicken of the sea, meaning it came from the sea. It's a brand of tuna."

Jenn: "What?"

3. The Shakespearean sonnet I wrote about spitting off our balcony:

From the Balcony

The globules fly straight into silky snow,

And cut the snow like tiny shards of glass.

Those in our sight don't see our splendid show;

I'm glad, for they might find our spitting crass.

We make some targets out of lemonade -

Two circles for the drops to land and splat.

I look and aim for targets we have made

I try to rise above my husband's stats.

The time then comes to grab the air soft gun

And innovate our game a little bit.

So fast and far the yellow pellets run,

Much farther than our measly spit permits.

I cannot wait for cold and sleet to go,

When life holds more than spitting into snow.

4. A couple random forwards:

Nondescript Thoughts

A pile of unwashed dishes sit in a sink full of stale, crumb-filled water -waiting for me to come wash them. They loom over my head, making me think of the screaming bathroom that also complains of how it hasn't been cleaned in over a week.. And yet, I sit here in my bathrobe, musing on who will win the election, and how I don't like any of the candidates that much, and how I wonder if global cooling will ever become the popular new environmental fad, or if people will stop centering their attention on Brittany Spears and the war in Iraq to concentrate on their own life and driving skills.



I feel the let down of finally finishing the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield, realizing that I will never be able to climb into Tally Youngblood's special head again, and that never again will I see pretty Zane or ugly David, and thinking about how much work it takes to get to know people in a book or on a TV series, and how they will never compare to the people I read or saw before them.



I think about how cold it is outside and how I officially banned winter a couple days ago, but the weather didn't seem to notice. I wonder how many Hershey's kisses it is possible to eat before you die from an overdose.... And my professor wonders how snails can operate a door and I don't know - perhaps it was a metaphor that worked better in my head. I think about how I have to leave for work in 7 minutes and wonder if it is possible to live off of cereal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, frozen burritos, and Hershey's kisses - I sure hope it is.

Finally, I realize that going to the mall with a friend and selecting the ugliest outfits you can find for the other person to try on can be one of the best recipes for laughter.

Out of the Dust

The title of one of my favorite books, and a statement reflecting the fact that my blog is coming back from the dead. Thus far, I'm afraid my blog much resembles that of one of Stephen Crane's poems entitled A Man Said to the Universe:

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

I guess the sense of obligation for poor, neglected, time-wasters is finally starting to sprout in me.

***This is where you celebrate, bang pots and pans, and dance around in a circle with merriment***

Sugar

At Versailles with a few other cool people after Stake Conference.












Why do they even need a Baby Dior?














I just discovered a new tarte - rhubarb. Its my new favorite, and I think it is going to stay my favorite for a very very very long time. I got so excited when I was eating it that I thought it deserved a picture. Legay choc - one of the most unresistable pastery shops near the institute.









This one is pretty good too. It has strawberries and cream inside, fondant on top, and chocolate on the bottom. But rhubarb is still favorite :)

My Bedsheets for the Week

So the other day I came home from my daily festivities, and I notice that Madame de la Motte has cleaned my room. But it wasn't just like any other normal cleaning day. Oh no, because THIS is what I found for my clean comforter. Where in the world did she find this thing and why did she buy it?! That would be an entertaining history. I especially enjoy the lemon with the sour look on its face. Just showing his internal conflict I guess. Or something...
I think its a sign that I was destined to choreograph a dance where I put fruit on my head and wear some form of grass skirt.

And while I'm talking about this, I might as well discuss some other interesting aspects of my host family. They are the type of people who will always have some sort of tear in the upholstery of their couch, who have several very nice paintings and sketches in broken picture frames hung askew on the wall, and who have an old 16th century looking apartment in Paris (three stories I might add). Eileen and I have found an entire photo album of the dad bungee jumping, and another entire photo album of the mom riding a camel (oh man, of all animals, who rides a camel? I love it!). And yet they are the type of people you can tell are very well off. Each kid has two computers, their own room with a loft included, the kitchen has huge marble counters, and they not only have a house in the countryside near Versailles, but also a house in Guadaloupe (the island in the sun). They are very Americanized, which you can tell by the way they do things. They never close their doors, they are always watching American pop star type shows, the mom is always trying to force the kids to eat (I think they are the first people I have met that dont like chocolate cake), they don't even have shutters on their windows, and they dont really seem to mind us invading their personal space. Kindof differenct, n'est-ce pas?

Some Food

Meal Number 1 in Tours: The Four Course Ridiculously Gourmet Professional Meal


Course 1: it was some kindof crazy fish that I had never heard of (that wasn't very strong), with a salad on the side, and mint flavored whipped cream (it was so bizzare - can't say I would have ever put a combination of those two together).









Course 2: Beef, asparagus, a cheese puff, and some rice. (I guess I could get more specific, but I think the picture explains it well enough).












Course 3: Chèvre spread in a little flakey puff pastery.











Course 4: Chocolate mouse cake.













Meal 2 in Tours: Traditional Food for the Everyday Person

Cassoulé - mystery meat if I ever saw one. I wonder if there was any meat that was the same in this dish. For a while I thought it was all duck. And then I realized that it had sausage. And then I realiwed that it had this other crazy duck stuff. And then it had another kind of sausage. Very heavy- similar to beef stew in that sense, but definatly several steps up from Dinty Moore.







I just had to put it up - chocolate mousse cake will never get old.













Sacré-Coeur (sorry, I dont know how this ended up in some random, boring food section, but oh well - the joys of blogging) - a modern basilica that was built
with stone that cleans itself. It was cool, but I find the random hole in the wall church behind it much more fascinating. Seriously, when you walk into the hole in the wall church and you know for a fact that the eclectic neighborhood surrounding it must be responsible for the interior decoration. There were swinging lights, crazy stained glass windows that look like Picasso might have made them, upbeat organ music playing in the background, it had added charm due to its small size, and it was somehow surprisingly still Romanesque looking (although it had quite a few Gothic elements). Anyways, now that I have talked about the hole in the wall church for an entire paragraph, Sacré-Coeur is cool too I guess. The steps are really fun to sit on. :)

Les Petits Aventures!

Oh boy. This Chocolatier makes all their chocolates on the spot, and they are amazing! Some of them even have little flakes of gold on top.










Le grève (haha, I've never actually spelled that word in French, so I hope that's right). A few of us were marching down the street doing an assignment for one of our classes, when all of a sudden there are like explosions all over the place, and a huge mob of firemen come running down the street yelling. I guess the firemen weren't too pleased with the current retirement age (a typical French thing to be upset about - seriously I don't know how they can still be complaining - the retirement age is so low, and they even have an entire program where they are half retired before they are fully out of the work field to allow for an easier transition) so they decided to go on strike about it. I loved their technique - light all sorts of things on fire, shoot off fireworks, and run down the street - all things that they are supposed to clean up after. Anyways, we were all just kindof dumbfounded, little cameras in hand for the assignment that we were supposed to be doing - so a bunch of them asked us if we wanted our picture taken with them. I felt like a tourist, but why not, right?


And you thought Provo was only a word with a negative connotation in Utah...












So this was at the Parisian Thai Festival. I think my favorite part about this picture is the fact that my hair is like cascading down the uniform, so that it looks like I
have some kindof of odd shaped beard. Haha, je l'aime.

Mes Petits Lapins

Palais Royal - a place where political minds once discussed and compiled ideas, where the Revolutionaries came to hang out, and where Madame Tassaud first created her wax heads (based on all the people they guillotined during the Revolution). Once again a stark contrast with the old and the new. Classical style gardens and stone fountains create a background for the modern metal ball fountain and the white and black striped columns in the adjacent courtyard.





So my petits lapins and I were all just chillin out along the Seine, eating our little tarte citrons, when some interesting characters pull up in their smart car and start pestering the guy on the bench next to us. Just as I was working through the most lemony part of my tarte citron, Natalie gets the crazy idea that the guy has a gun in his back pocket. But the thing you have to know about Natalie is that she is obsessed with staying safe, controlled, and on time. (And im pretty sure there wasnt a gun in his back pocket.) In any event, Im not about to leave my tarte citron, so we stay. Then they pile back up in their little smart car, drive off, and I finish my tarte citron. Anything for the pastry :)






I have decided that the street performers along the Seine are my favorite. The ones that congregate near the Pompidou Center are a little too obsessed with the way of the future, the ones near Montmarte are all a little too bohemian, and the ones in the Metro shouldn't be called street performers because they all use those little stereo things to play background music while they attempt to sing along (unless you go to chatalet - they have some pretty talented musical groups trying to sell their cds there). So here we have some big band swing performers. Sure, its a little Americanized to be playing jazz music, but it sure beats that guy playing the fiddle at Champs-Elysées metro stop every morning on the way to school.



Notre Dame et moi having a moment.
















Landon, Natalie (although I like to spell her name Nathalie because I think it looks cooler), and Kelli - mes petits lapins (haha, i don't think i used that phrase correctly, but I wasn't sure I would get another chance to use it :)

Au parc

So I was out taking a walk one day with my little "Paris Walks Cards: 50 Adventures on Foot" companion box (such an original title huh?), and the directions said "enter the park to see a bunch of grandparents watching their grandchildren." Whatever that means. So I walk inside the exotic looking park with my roommate and sure enough, we pretty much just walked into a day care. So I took (a rather blurry) picture, and here is the evidence :)







Oops, I forgot to make this face the right way, you will just have to use your imagination. Pretty trees, huh?

















A window and a bridge at some castle somewhere.














I love it how the French don't automatically associate pumpkins with Halloween (haha, L'Halloween, qu'est-ce que c'est?).
















Why can't they turn Sugarhouse park into something like this?












Natalie et moi.













....silence.....

Scary Eyes

My scary eyes after my makeover at Sephora on the Champs Elysée. Vous l'aimez?

The Boring Buildings Part

I know, that moat is disgusting. I don't know how the ducks survive it (but I'm glad they do, because they are freaking cute
!) So here we have pictures of a couple chateau. It was interesting to compare and contrast the bulky, defense-centered castles of the Middle Ages to the beautiful, garden filled castles of the Renaissance.

The Alley

Just some "alley-way" pictures. I guess they aren't that exciting, but I like them :)

Stuffed

What is the difference between a stuffed duck in American and a stuffed duck in France? The stuffed duck in America is either a cute little stuffed animal toy, or some strange science project that can be found in museums. The stuffed duck in France means that food is somewhere nearby. There isn't a lot of differentiation between the food and the animal itself (I mean seriously, look at that duck dish- it might have as well died on the plate).
Anyways... so the first picture is a stuffed duck outside of a foie gras (stuffed duck liver) shop, the second is a gizzard salad (which looks disgusting, but is actually really, really good), the third is confit canard (duck cooked in its own fat), and the last picture is mousse au chocolat (need I say more). Here is another reason to go to the Dordogne Region of France - not only do you get to take a canoe ride down the river and hike an Italian sized hill, but you get to eat gizzards, ducks (that look like they have died on the plate, yet taste better than any kind of duck you will find anywhere else), and mousse au chocolat (pretty much the equivalent of heaven).