ESCAPADES

In the 21st century relating through writing (emailing) is a quick and efficient way to learn a lot about a person and how they tick, with minimum initial commitment or investment face-to-face and is at the core of effective online meeting. But we must all accept that it is not a perfect science and that it encompasses pitfalls and heart breaks.

Parlez vous français?

Last year I went to France and I learned some valuable wisdom for the next time I take a vacation there. Which I already have scheduled in my calendar. I'm going to revisit Paris just as soon as another fascist dictator invades them and I'm drafted by the Canadian (Peacekeepers) military to go save their precious little stain of a culture. So I booked a flight for 2015.
1. Bring Canadian food or whatever country you are travelling from.

Pack your bags with plenty of hardy food. No matter where you go to eat in Paris, you will pay $29 for two bites of pasta and an eye dropper of tea.

The entire time I was in Paris, I was never once full. I walked around the city eating every chance I could get, and never came close to feeling satisfied. I felt like a starving artist. Except I don't do art, so I was basically just starving.

Here is a typical French person's daily diet-

Breakfast: A croissant flake covered in sugar and butter

Lunch: Dust particles in the air

Snack: An arrogance pill

Dinner: Red wine and two bites of pasta

Snack: An arrogance pill

Have you ever noticed that France has no traditional food? You never hear, "Let's eat French tonight." That's mostly because the French steal cuisine from other cultures. Then they boil it down to almost nothing, and pour on fat and sugar. And also because there really just isn't that much food in France. Every time they export a piece of cheese, three of them starve to death. Saying, "Honey, let's eat French food tonight" is basically saying, "Honey, let's fast tonight. And talk pompously in our shitty incoherent language while we wash our expensive clothing on our rib cages."

3. Bring the nicest clothing you own.

The poorest people in Paris were wearing jackets that cost more than my entire vacation. I saw homeless people sleeping in alleys holding signs that said, "Stranded with unmatching cufflinks. Please help." I felt sorry for one and gave him some change. He gave it back and said, "Sorry, only accept check or credit." These people are crazy and insane and stupid, I don't get it.

2. Bring ego repellant

All stereotypes about French being snobs are true. There's no way around it.

Nobody in France showed any kind of niceness or warmth. They wouldn't even give me the time of day. " Quelle heure veuillez être il?" I would ask. In French, that means, "What time is it you stupid French bastard fucker ass?" And they treated me like shit.

Fuck everything about the French attitude and culture.

4. Bring a history book.

Don't bring a translation book. Bring a history book. The only thing you need to be able to say in French is, "World war 2, fucker."

Whenever you need something from them, open your book and flip to the part where France surrenders like little girls and the US comes to save them. And they bow like ninny bitches. And when Hitler asked who wanted to get fucked the French were first in line. They bent over and took it right up the ass. Pow! Plunge! That's why Paris is so known world-wide for their white wine. By the fifties, they had surrendered so much that they ran out of white fabric and had to start holding up their glasses of wine instead. That's also where "cheer-sing" came from. During an invasion, they would proudly hold up their white wine in the air and say, "I'd like to propose that we're toast."

5. Fuck Paris.

It is a shit hole. Everything negative you hear about it is true. It is a gloomy, expensive, pompous, miserable country, and of all the places I've been in the world, I'd sooner revisit my own asshole. Plus it’s a nice looking one and it’s free.

1. The #1 thing you should bring to Paris is a plane ticket that says "Amsterdam" instead of "Paris."

Go to Amsterdam instead. Not for the weed or prostitutes, but for the amazing culture and beautiful scenery. Just kidding, go there for the weed and prostitutes. And if you're stumbling around the market place overdosing on ecstasy with AIDs and gonorrhea, at least people around will have the decency to tell you what time it is. Shhhhhhhh... you didn't hear it here.

TOSS IT UP!

I’ve taken guys out on dates and paid for dinner in my time. But let me tell you dating an anorexic is great. He doesn't eat anything at all. He only drinks. Liquid diet. No dinner, no desert, no chocolate, no me, no popcorn at the theatre. They're the cheapest dates in the world. It's almost too easy. It's like going to a movie with a blind guy. You basically park in an alley and put on talk radio for an hour and a half.


The problem is that blind guy still eats a lot. So either you need an anorexic blind guy, or just switch his plate with the dish that belongs to his seeing-eye dog. Then hopefully the dog is anorexic and you can return the meal for a full refund.


For blind guys, going on a date means walking outside, getting in the car, turning it on, getting out, going back into the house, and playing Warcraft. He's like, "What movie is this?" And I say, "It's a new sci-fi movie that just came out." And he's like, "Why do they keep saying the same things over and over?" I say, "HMMM." Then after two hours, I say, "What a great movie." And I go with him outside again, start the car, turn it off, get out of the car, and go back inside. But this time, he's still in the car.


This is what you do. Get a blind boyfriend. Tell him we're taking a road trip. Go out to the car with him, start it up, give him a little PSP or some crap to keep his fingers occupied so he doesn't shart (=fart+shit) himself and get yuck all over the seats that lingers in your leather. Once he's comfortable, leave the car running and go inside. Then you're free to do whatever you want for at least eight hours.


I have regular BM’s every day, same time, like clockwork. It's like my colon has an internal metronome. Though, in theory, if I went around naked all the time, I could use my breast as a sun dials. (close your eyes and ears)The other day I took a crap, one plop, two plop, one everything. I looked down - two of everything. There were two little buddies, same shape, and same size. It totally baffled me. I had to stand up on the sink and look in the mirror to make sure I still had one anus.


That's the thing with boyfriends. The more senses they have, the harder it is to live with them. That's why smart guys are a pain in the ass. I had a smart boyfriend. He was correct like half the time. It was god damn annoying. I'd be like, "Well you know the Sweden conquered Britain in 1497." And he had to prove me wrong. I hate that. Can't people just let me make up bullshit and not have to prove me wrong? What point does it serve? All it does is make me feel stupid and embarrassed. That's it. Proving me wrong has absolutely no other effect.


There was this guy at a party. He was such an a-hole. They were talking about cooking. I said, "Yeah well, you can substitute baking powder for baking soda." And this guy actually went on the internet and showed that you couldn't. Why couldn't he just let it go? Let me say my bullshit, know its wrong, but not say anything. As if anyone actually cares.


What benefit comes from proving someone wrong? I hate it. In my perfect world, everyone agrees with everything anyone says. If I'm at a party and I want people to think I'm smart, I just say a bunch of crap about math. "Hey guys and girls, you know they found X. Finally. Yeah, some Russian scientist. He figured out what X is. X is 3. Who would have thunk it? Of all the numbers, X is 3. Golly gee wiz." And nobody says anything. They just go, "Wow, that guy is both mathematical and he keeps up on his news."


The future is going to suck when everyone has Google on Phones everywhere they go. It makes it impossible for me to bullshit my way into or out of anything. No matter what I say, all they have to do is a few clicks to verify it. It's a sad future.


What's weird about school? I've been thinking about this. We spend so much time learning about history, but never any time learning about the future. Are there things about the future that they're trying to hide from us? It's totally corrupt. They basically say, "Flying cars, cities on clouds, end of lesson, go home." There are thousands of text books written on any kind of history you can imagine. I've never once seen a textbook about the future. Maybe we all die in 3 years and that's their secret.


Sometimes I think about the apocalypse. Its like, "Yeah, that would freaking kool”. Sure, the carnage would rule. Everything being destroyed and chaos and I get to run into Best Buy and grab the entire high tech computer and TVs, DVD’s and stuff to decorate my bunker. HMMM what colour will I actually paint my bunker? Red! Yeah definitely red....


But then, imagine a few weeks later. It's still the fucking apocalypse. Everything has calmed down, it's barren outside. Just slight gusts of wind and ash. And I'm stuck in a bunker with a flat screen TV, DVD player and ten copies of Sex and the city ‘07 because some greedy ‘b’ with an itch snatched the newer ones. And that's just two weeks later. Imagine years of that. Hours would go by so slowly. Post-apocalypse is a boring world. No vampires or zombies or anything. Just me and god damn Sex and the city for the rest of my life. And maybe a blind guy too. And I have to sit there all day, "Yeah, still the same Football movie, honey, be patient." Sounds splendid.

Is the spacing messed up or am I really going blind?

Sleepy Hallow

It's unbelievable that anyone over 12 participates in the garbage tradition of Halloween. All it means at this age is a weekend of costume parties. Somehow everyone forgets that costume parties sucked all year round. Having a costume party on a day where kids get dressed up too will not change things. A good party is a good party, and a bad party is a bad party, regardless of how bogus people are dressed. Wearing fake teeth and red food coloring doesn't miraculously make you an interesting person. Every single Halloween party I went to, all I could do was look around at everyone with fake blood on them and think "God I wish that was real." If only it really were Freddy Kruger in the living room, he'd hack everyone to pieces and it would be entertaining. Wearing a costume is nothing more than an opportunity for cheap compliments. They go rent a Cinderella costume, enter the party, and everyone says, "Wow, I love your costume!" This, for some reason, flatters people. Weren't you listening? They love the costume, not you. You aren't the costume. They are not complimenting you. Whenever I ask someone why they dress up, the only thing they say is, "Because it's fun." Yeah, getting cheap free praise from drunken people generally is fun. Asshole. Too bad it's all fake. Nobody actually cares. No compliment on Halloween is ever genuine. The only reason they're saying, "Nice fish nets" is so that you will then, in turn, look at their costume and give whatever dumb positive statement comes to mind. Halloween should be renamed to "Self-conscious Day." These people have no idea what's going on. They put on a costume that looks ridiculous, and they know they look ridiculous. And they think that wherever they go, everyone around is watching them. But every person is wearing something equally ridiculous, so they feel the same. Everyone is in constant state of thinking they're being watched by people who think they're being watched. Nobody pays attention to anything anyone else says or does because the social phobia is knee deep and compounded beyond reason. Thank god someone dressed up as a serial killer and brought a long knife that I take and hack through the dense clouds of insecurity to find the door. And the people who aren't dressed up feel equally or more self-conscious. They think everyone around is watching them and thinking, "Why didn't that loser dress up? Has she no respect for tradition?" And by the time everyone is drunk enough to finally get over their self-reflective bashful paranoia of "Oh my, this princess outfit is so cute but so silly I wonder who's looking at me," they're far too trashed to do anything besides puke all over the gown and return it the next day so that in 365 days, another generation of slut-skank can pick it out and go, "Hmm, I wonder why this spot has a green stain. I'll take it." Thank hell it's November and these people can go back to feeling worthless and insecure again. Fuck Halloween. Fuck costumes. Double-fuck those dress up and think they’re kool because it’s Halloween. I wonder if they called “Hollowhead” day it would catch on and people would still dress up? Odds are they would.

And My Point Is?

I was thinking about what definitively separates a kid from an adult. It's cereal. When you start eating more eggs and bacon than Cinnamon Toast Crunch, that's when you're an adult. That's when you start down the path of bogus priorities. Down the path of self destructive behavior. Down the path of losing your sense of humor. Down the path of saying a list of things by repeating the first few words instead of using commas because your points are too profound to fit in one sentence. Down the path of using "going down paths" as an all-encompassing metaphor for all your shitty decisions. People who take their lives seriously are boring to hang out with, but when I'm not around them; their existence causes me destructive emotional pain. For that reason, it's almost less traumatic for me to hang out with boring people than to sit alone and hate that they exist somewhere. I just need to know who is who. That's why the first thing I do when I meet someone is look in their cereal cabinet. If the cereal isn't relevant to my nostalgia, I leave. I also check the expiration dates to make sure they're not just left over from younger days. I met this guy at a night club, who later ruined my life. I should have seen the warning signs, because I went over to his place and saw he had a box of Frosted Flakes that was so old, there was a picture of a little orange kitten on the front. That's the kind of shit that bothers me about someone. Because you know that Frosted Flake boy is not going to wander into the woods and find frogs and rub their tummies and sing them lullabies. He's too good for that. Too good for frogs, too good for Honeycombs, and too good for me. The only thing that makes him a content individual is going to night clubs and finding girls lives to ruin. And I attribute it all, on a semi-metaphorical basis, to a rising disinterest in sugary cereal. I've been without cereal for a few months. I know what it's like. You start to feel powerful. You start to feel in control of yourself. You start wearing blouses. You start seeing the big picture. You start holding in farts instead of letting them out because you care more about your image than everyone else's good time. You start not having laugh attacks. You start talking in clichés. You start what you can't finish. I start the engine and you'll pop the hood and take a look. Even knowing all this, I can't prevent it. I can't help but turn into another serious person self-proclaimed philosopher douche bag. The decision is out of my hands. As pointless as it is to ponder my existence, it's equally pointless to do anything else. It's like I've been thrown in a padded white room with nothing but a box of legos that have all the nubs shaved off so they don't stick together. Of course I'm going to play with them, but I'm not going to put much effort into it because everything's going to fall apart anyway. And it's only a matter of time before I start screaming, "Can I get some snacks in here?" And a flap opens and a Snickers bar falls out. And I suck the chocolate off and use the honey to stick the legos together. And I feel incredibly clever with myself, but at the same time, I also feel incredibly lonely that nobody is there to see me my awesome nougat Lego tower.

On a more serious note, do you think that in colonial days, you could buy village insurance? Like... In the case where your village burned down, they would give you a settlement.