I am back from Paris. May 10. I love Paris.

Now my Paris journal:

Day 1:
If 6% of the women in SF are "attractive" by my count -- and that is high -- about 25-30% are "attractive" here in Paris. It's dope, G-Money. They all give me the look and then I can hear them say "ooh-la-la!" Made that last part up.

Day 2:
The Paris Metro is the dopest thing around. I hate BART and Muni and I stand by that hatred. The Metro has got it going on. Like the trains come every 2 minutes.
Today there was some action. Drunk homeless guy on my train (of which he's the only one I've seen) got kicked off (literally) by some guy, I didn't see what happened, but a beer can slid across the platform and hit the wall and started shooting off, and I looked out and this dude's pants were around his ankles, he was on the ground, and he was out of it, and two security guys were standing over him.

Day 3:
Event of the day:
Cute 16 year old girl says to me: "Ouuuu, la la la, moi le oh rue de laraine!" And so she's asking me for directions. And I'm like (wishing I was French of course): "Riggggghhhht. I don't speak French." Uhhh, I is a dumb American. I don't even say Parlez vous Anglais? Which I know how to say! I get nervous when I'm on the spot.

Day 4:
Rain Today.
Went to St Germain region. Feet = killing me. Should I buy some new shoes? Kept thinking the rain would let up, it didn't so I decided the next store I went into I would buy an umbrella. Lucky for me the next store I went into was Emporio Armani. Totally cool store. There's a cafe and all kinds of stuff and it's like a maze with many levels and many strange pathways.
For lunch at Deux Magots (one of Hemingway's haunts) I had a ham and cheese omelet. And a crazy, unbelievable bittersweet chocolate cake. Bought a copy of the second Emmanuelle novel. It's not printed in english, so if anyone can help me learn French it's that naughty Emmanuelle... if you know what I mean... This time it would appear to be Emmanuelle's duty to teach a young girl about the pleasures of love...

Day 5:
Some jackass american male is in here (orbital cafe at www.orbitalcafe.com) talking extremely loudly and rudely to his wife and the general public because he can't access his American email!
Now I know why Parisians hate Americans. This guy sounds like he's from Texas and his name is Texas and he's as big as Texas: 'I am as big as Texas! Where's mah steak, frenchy!' Retard.
I hate him, and all Americans!
His wife just said 'can I just sit there and try to work it? and he's like 'you can fuck with it all you want!'
He's like in his 40s. He talks like George W Bush, which may affect my voting in November.
'This is Texas bullshit! This is like the shits the big bulls lay in Texas -- gigantic!'
His password is 'changeme'
Oh la la, une ugly Americaine!

Day 6:
All along I've been saying that the only foreign language I can bear to hear spoken is French. The others make me sick (German, Russian) or make me in my head go: bla-bla-bla (Spanish, Japanese) or worse (various African, Chinese, Gaelic Irish[!]*).
Anyway, in France espresso is spelled expresso. But it is still pronounced espresso because in French 'x' makes the 's' sound. Like six (6) is pronounced seess and dix (10) is pronounced deess. Every word you say depends on the next word. Because depending with how the next word starts you may add or drop a sound. That's what makes the French language like music.
*Why the Irish suck. I am half-Irish, so I can say this. They are poor because they are stupid and they are stupid because they are drunk and they are drunk because they are Catholics. The only good thing about the place is the beautiful green hills. And the only reason they still have those is because Ireland is too stupid, poor and lazy to turn the place into strip malls and parking lots.

Day 7:
Here's something that happened which has improved my level of self confidence:
I was stopped in the street by une attractive young fille and her mother. They started speaking to me in French. I'm like 'parlez vous anglais?' and they're like 'yeah.' They were German. Anyway they wanted to know where I got my sunglasses. She was trying to find some like them for her brother. Then they said they stopped me because I "looked very much cute" in them. Thank you. Fin. It's all about self confidence, people. I learned this from my dear friend, Tony George. Thanks, Tony! And thanks to all of you for your support over the years.

Day 8:
Once you're here, you understand why the French hate Americans. Americans are rude, obese, loud, they don't even learn to say anything in French. So many americans are fat, fat, fat, but even with all the pastries, cheeses, buttery buttery butteries, etc, there are very few overweight people here. And those overweight people usually turn out to be tourists from Texas ('Where's my goddam steak, garcon!!!!! Why this thing's smaller than a possum's titty back home!').
Note: this website does not intend to condemn those from Texas or it's surrounding areas.

Day 9:
Bonjour madamoiselles et monsieurs et madames,
Today I asked the waitress for a pen, salt, french fries, a Perrier -- all in French! Stylo, sel, frites, Perrier.
I also rented a motorcycle (moto). It's green, a Suzuki or a Yamaha, can't remember. I was going down the Champes d'Lysses (sp) and looked down and was going 90! But then I remembered it was in kilometers per hour. That was a close one.
There are no lanes, and tons of motorcycles and mopeds and they can do just about anything they want. Me too. Last two days have been grey. :-(
Bought two ties at Ralph Lauren (even though I never wear them -- some of you get married soon, please, or I suppose if you died that would work too). And a new Gucci wallet. Which I definitely needed. And some Nike walking shoes (blue) because my feet were killing me. And they were all really great buys. Something about exchange rates or something.
Ch-rist! There's a dog in here. It just ran under my desk and hit me with it's tail. That hurts.
Date tonight. Or, at least I am referring to it as a date. It's a date, right? Me, a (French) girl I've seen twice before, dinner, condoms (well, at least I am going to have condoms, I've always had condoms with me since high school -- just - in - case! Don't worry, they're not the same ones. I get new ones every year or so...). Will let you know how it goes.
There is a couple next to me, bickering over an email they are sending. Guess what. They're Americans. It's two fat men.
What follows is something that the guy on the computer before me left on his notepad. I thought I had hit copy, so then I hit paste, but I hadn't hit copy and this was left on his paster:
"Helo [sic] all,
I have finsihed [sic] my contiki tour now and have come across to Paris for a couple of days. All is still well. Went to all the major attractions except the louvre as there is some stupid strike on at the moment. I have now been to paris twice and have still not been into the louvre. Shit happens. Am going back to london tomorrow to watch the london broncos play and then out with a heap of peole [sic] after. Saturday night will be going out with friends from the contiki tour and on monday will be back in the US. Will spend about 4-5 days in new york and then move on. Will keep in touch.
Mark"
Thanks Mark, and thanks for steering me clear of the Louvre, buddy!

Day 10:
oh la la; in re "date"
I feel very lame right now
If you had seen my attempt, like in a movie, you'd have all cringed and covered your eyes. I don't even think I ever had a chance, but I dont know.
Perhaps I need to start lying more to girls.
And dropping roofies in their vodka and cranberrys...
You know, you'd think with France being socialist, they would have a lot less freedoms. WRONG. They have a lot more. You can smoke. You can use your cell phones in restaurants. They're going to outlaw that in the US. That is so WRONG. People think it's rude. Well, when people are talking to other people in a restaurant that's not rude. So the people who think it's rude to talk on a cell phone are listening in on that person's conversation, and since they can't figure out what is going on in the conversation, they are outraged -- they can't eavesdrop properly! So, better outlaw it. Welcome to America!
Driving around the Arch D' Triumph (sp) is the most fun ever. It is just crazy. Cars, bikes, mopeds, scooters, motorcycles, everyhere. All trying to go down whichever of the 6 offshoot streets they want. Horns honking! It's crazy. It's awesome.
I hate America and it's bourgeois crap! I am back in SF on Tuesday and I will be wreaking French havoc!

Day 11:
Sunny today. Found great cinema shop; lots of Binoche. Am I catching a cold?

Day 12
I went down to the Seine in the St. Germaine area. Lots of restaurants and bars and stuff were open. Very crowded with people. Too many tourists, if you ask me, though. I, as you know, do not consider myself a tourist. Anyway, something about Paris which I love are public displays of affection. I walked past a few couples making out on the banks of the Seine and on bridges. I love it. It makes me kind of sad (for obvious reasons), but I still think it is sweet and rather wonderful. One day that WILL be me.
I have lost some weight here, I am glad to record. Not that I could tell with the scales in the metric system. But I can tell with my clothes. All that walking. Plus I've been smoking a lot. I am giving up cigarets when I get back to the states. Do not let me smoke. Officially: I love Paris. It is my favorite city. I have not ruled out living here in the relatively near future. But last night I really needed someone to be with. If not a lover, a point-man. Like Ethan Hunt in Mission:Impossible. Support in clubs, bars, etc.
I just got back from another movie. A French movie with no subtitles. I followed it pretty well. It was good. About 5 people in their twenties in the 70s and love, friendship, marriage, divorce, abortion, etc. The very first shot was of the star -- a rising French actress, Clotilde Courau -- wearing black leather knee boots and a small light blue bikini walking down the street passing out flyers! That is a look that I love. If you have the body for it, ladies, this is not just a cool look, but it says something about you. Something... cool? Anyway, that is the shot I went to the movie to see. It's on the poster.
Listen this is spelled wrong, but I've had two so far from Dalloyau's brasserie/patisserie/cafe next door. Millefleur Vanille. It is like a pastry thing that is so unbelievable. It's like, I can't even describe it. A layered pastry. Light, flaky, stickyish, crunchy, light, wafery levels with levels of delicious*** vanilla type custard or something. If you come to Paris go to this place in the St. Germaine/Latin Quarter area. It is unbelievable. Also, if you come here, in the Latin Quarter is a top, top restaurant called Chez Henri. The guy who runs it's name is David (dah-veetd) and he is really nice and cool. His english is only marginally better than my French though.
I have met over a dozen young 20something French people and they do not smell, the women do shave under their arms, they DO dislike the stereotypical American (of which there are many here), only an occasional rude -- or haughty -- waitperson. The weather is like San Francisco's but generally warmer (humid) and with year-long passing thunderstorms. The suburbs is where the crime is and where they keep their poor and criminal types. Whereas in the us it is rather the opposite.
Lots of LAME UKers get "pissed" on Guinness and roam the streets chanting dumb songs from the homeland. Godammit I can't stand the Ireland-Scotland-Wales-England crowd. What a bunch of dumb, depressed, ugly hooligans. I've had it with that culture. I used to like it. No more.
But listen, take my word for that pastry. It is worth killing for. I mean killing someone who should be dead anyway. Like chevy chase.

Day 13
That French girl that I met was going to call me to take me to show me some bridge (Pont Neuf*), but I didn't think anything sexual/romantic was going to happen. But then I did, for what I consider good reason. But then I didn't, as she's still in Lyon.
It's warm and humid today. Sunny. I went to look for gifts for people, some of you, my mom for Mother's Day, etc. But I didn't get anything. I did get a few more things for myself though. Ha ha ha.
Right now there is a young American couple working on a letter to friends in the states. I was assigned to computer 23 and he's sitting at that seat and his girlfriend is typing on number 22.
So I was like, 'pardon, pardon. Uhhh, are... you... using... this... computer?' in my French accented Americaine. And he's like oh, sorry, no no. And I was like 'merci'.
So, they might think I'm French. I can't really make fun of these people too badly. I might be friends with them in San Francisco. Oh, the guy just turned around and remarked about how much faster I type than his wife. I just kind of smiled and nodded. He stated it very plainly as if he thought I might be French.
This is fun.
Anyway gotta stop by next door at Dalloyau's and pick up another Millefleur Vanille and back to the hotel. Hotel du Pantheon.
*Because, my favorite actress Juliette Binoche was in a major French film called the Lovers on the Pont-Neuf, filmed on that bridge.

Day 14
So, there's these poster ads for Mars bars all over the city, right...
This story is good. So, I was in the Metro and decided to get one from the machines. The ads make it seem like there's no nuts in them in Europe. Anyway, they cost 6F. So I put in a 2F, then another 2F, but it falls through, then a 1F, but it falls through too. Then the 2F again, then a 1F but it falls through, then the train is coming. Then a 1F but it falls through. Then the train has stopped. Then a 1F, then another 1F but it falls through. Then another 1F and it makes it. 6F. So I hit the number for Mars and it says 'parlezvous attendant' and the train is leaving and I jump on just in time. No Mars bar.
Tomorrow I fly home.