late.

I'm getting a little lazy about this whole writing every week thing. It's the Thursday deadline that really kills me. You see, Wednesday the kids don't have school, so it's like a little mid-week mini-weekend. When Thursday rolls around, it's almost like Monday, and I have a really difficult time getting motivated. On top of that, yesterday was a jour ferié, basically a "holiday", a french excuse not to work.

And get this. At various points throughout the year (especially in May) there are these little holidays--they fall on a different day of the week each year (duh)--and people don't have to go to work. In a few weeks there is some national old people don't work day and no one has to work. Yesterday was the Ascension, and it just happened to be on a Thursday. When a jour ferié falls on a Thursday, the French have this wonderful little invention called faire le pont. What does this mean? Basically, it means that if you have a Thursday holiday, you take off on Friday as well so that you can have a four day weekend. This is so popular that some schools close today because no kids are there. I mean--we had a two week break two weeks ago. Is it really time for another vacation? And more importantly, how does the average family afford five vacations a year? Luckily my kids are going to school and I don't have to stay home alone in this scary house while they're on vacation.

Somewhere in America we are getting things horribly, horribly wrong.

In other news, I had a fun weekend that included a dinner with at least fifteen bottles of wine, an impromptu dance party, and clubbing with good looking french men that I regarded with loads of skepticism and distrust. I was feeling sassy and tried out my french (verbal) fighting skills. The first victim was a six foot five, 300 lb. bouncer who told Kate and I we couldn't sit in the "VIP lounge". He sure got an earful from us. Twice. As if fighting with the bouncer is EVER a good idea. Luckily we were not kindly shown the exit. After that dispute, we hopped in the hour long coat check line to wait with our friends. Despite the fact that I assured the french girls behind me that I was not in fact getting a coat but simply waiting with my friends, they didn't stop verbally attacking me.

I took this as a sign. I hopped out of line to get a better view of them. I practiced my french death stare. They told me I was impolite because I accidentally kicked the friend when getting out of line. My response? "Wahhhhh, poor baby, did I hurt you?" (in french. In a baby voice.)

Just call me the master of insults. Don't think I stopped there though. The more they told me I was malpolie, the more I said "awwww, ca t'a fait mal?".

Needless to say, my night needed to come to an end. But not before my 3 am kebab frites. As if I needed THAT on top of two bottles of wine, salami and cheese.

This weekend I'm stuck sitting at home while literally all of my friends take a fun vacation. This translates to catching up on The Office, The Hills, The City, 30 Rock, and whatever other shitty "The...." series I can get my hands on. Maybe a solo trip to the movies, a museum outing, a visit to Ladurée to gorge myself on macarons. You know, the usual.

And now I'm off to wander in Paris. Only 78 more days in this magnifique city.