"Gimme two number ones, eighty-six the bacon, one Adam-and-Eve-on-a-raft and wreck 'em..."
I meant to write a long post today (just like every day for the last week), but I haven't really had the energy (I hate the flu) to write all of the stuff I have swirling around in my head. However, I promised Marky Mark that I would post something today, so to tide him over until I really write, he gets a picture or three of me in
Rome.
I should point out that this is pretty much the end of all of my
Rome-related posts, so if you're not enjoying the pictures that I post mostly because I dig my hair in them, this is the last of the torture. Of course, check back soon; previous posting rate to resume.
Oh! I just remembered. In the vein of travelogues, my cousin was in town last week, and he posted pictures and wrote about it
here. Perhaps his posts about me will make up for my lack of blogging...
"Everybody pulled their socks up..."
Things I did today instead of going to the library (items four through 6 occurred after the library closed, though, so only minimal culpability):
- Administered oral exams as part of the bac blanc (sorta like midterms, maybe?) to a bunch of kids I'd never met, which I guess is how they preserve grading integrity or something. Failing students makes me feel guilty.
- Got told off by some guy for not responding when he said "bonjour" to me on the street. Believe it or not, guy, not every woman walking down the street is interested in your be-zippered, acid-wash-clad bum and sometimes we're just too tired to be leered at.
- Lay on my bed, curled into the fetal position. Pain is the suck.
- Wore my new apron while making dinner. This may have been the highlight of my day, pathetically enough.
- Watched a bit of last night's American Idol. (Shut up; you know you do it too.) No one did my favorite Beatles song last week, which I was actually a bit disappointed about until Mr. Easy ruined it this week. I've long wanted to be in a band, if only so we could cover that song. Now I'm thinking maybe better I never have, because what if I murdered it like that? (I'd like to think I wouldn't, but the possibility is certainly there.)
- Finally got around to checking out some Rome pictures my mom sent me. I realized recently that I haven't really posted any pictures of me since I stopped blow drying my hair, which is too bad since I'm apparently quite vain about my hair. I'll post more pictures... eventually. (Aren't empty promises fun?) Enjoy the back of my head in front of the guts of Colosseum in the meantime.
"That was the most fun I've ever had without laughing."
Best part of today: while sitting in my seminar tonight (where I
finally felt like a legitimate grad student - kinda cool to stop feeling like a bit of a fraud) my advisor, sitting right next to the presenter, pulls out this notebook, writes something in it, and then passes it to the professor sitting on her other side. He reads it, writes a sentence below it and passes it back while snickering - actually covering his mouth to hold in the giggles. If only I could read scribbly French upside down from ten feet away...
"Are you the Key Holder or the Gate Keeper?"
So I just got home (from seeing
Be Kind Rewind; it's good, but since I thoroughly dig Mos Def that was sort of a given... I'm not sure if I like it better than
La science des rêves, although I certainly laughed more) and I'm on my way to bed, but I just have to ask: why is it that one gets the most attention from strange men on the days when one is dressed like a bum and has jacked-up hair?
On my way to the theater tonight, while walking down a single block having just left my apartment, three men bonsoired me - one right after the other. A fourth waited until he was behind me to comment on mes fesses... truly bizarre, especially since it was all within two minutes of having left my apartment. Come to think of it, I had some dude on a bike this morning try to talk to me just as I turned the corner off my little street, asking if I went to the Sorbonne, but mostly just being generally creepy. Perhaps it's the weather change or something?
And because this was so disturbing I have to share: was on the way home from work on the metro, and this woman gets on the train and sits sorta across from me, and I do a quadruple-take. She's got bright Barbie-blue eyeshadow and fuschia lipstick on, but as though it was literally applied with a paint roller. Then... THEN. I notice that she's had both ears double-pierced, but that each hole has gotten SO big that it's just now a double-split ear. The second hole had clearly ripped through more recently, as it was a little... crusty. No judgments as to why she was like this, but it once again reminded me of why I like studs rather than big heavy earrings - I've always been a bit paranoid about turning into one of those old ladies with long ear holes, but that... Cautionary tale to the
nth degree.
"It can sometimes lead to a sense of panic. Sometimes a very British type of panic... I'm talking about queuing."
Apologies for the apparent lie in my last post - I really hadn't intended to take this long to post about Rome, but I've been caught up in who-knows-what (I finally finished unpacking today) and I didn't have nearly as many pictures worth sharing as I thought I would, so, that's that.
I flew Kuwait Airways to Rome, because the departure time was infinitely more convenient. The Alitalia and Air France flights leave at 7 am and 7:15, respectively, and getting to the airport by 6 am is too incredibly inconvenient to be considered. So, Kuwait it was. The flight left from Terminal 1 at CDG, which means you go through security at the satellite where you board, resulting in security being pretty much flight-specific. I don't know if this has anything to do with the fact that the flight was Paris-Rome-Kuwait with less than 30 of us disembarking at Rome, but I haven't been through such lax security in 7 years - maybe even longer. I was the ONLY passenger with a little plastic bag of liquids in less-than-100ml containers, several people set off the metal detector but were waved through without further attention, a bunch of people were carrying drinks and huge bottles of lotion and perfume through the detectors. One woman had these big ol' scissors (six-inch blades, at least) that were simply run through the scanner by themselves, not that I get exactly how an extra scan prevents her from stabbing someone? I have some theories as to why this may have been, but instead of sharing them, a tip: if you're one of those people who *really* needs to carry his mini pocketknife with him at all times, apparently that option still exists in some places.
Once I got *on* the plane, I focused on the odds of a plane hijack, and how they're way lower than, say, a carjack and how I was the only American on the flight (or so the woman taking boarding passes said) and that probably would bode well for me. The flight felt waaay longer than two hours, what with the creepy dude on the far left staring at me and the armrest-hogging guy to my right who dug the in-flight radio enough to make sure we could all partake. I didn't actually DO anything on the flight but sit there (which may have been why it seemed longer) but there was something nice about just sitting there and trying to decide which Bollywood movie soundtrack my seatmate was listening to. After they served a bit of leek quiche and lukewarm water for our mid-flight snack, I had plenty of time to stare at the metal rods supporting the bulkhead separator, as they had created large-ish holes in the plastic ceiling covers from the violent vibrations during takeoff, landing, and turbulence. The plane? Old and rickety, so even though I'm not normally nervous about flying I found myself a bit anxious, what with the non-existent security, the plane falling apart, and the staring Italian guy on my left. Of course, he got up about 40 minutes before we landed, went to the back of the plane and never returned (which seemed a bit odd itself) so for the last part of the flight I didn't have to think about the staring.
My point? I took a plane to Rome.
I'm drawing a blank on what my mom and I did that afternoon/evening, so we'll finish this the next time I feel like writing about it. And because I feel like mentioning it, last night I saw
Run Fatboy Run. I must say, I enjoyed the lowbrow humor, although I should maybe mention that I generally love Michael Ian Black and Simon Pegg. David Schwimmer actually makes for a pretty good director; the composition was impressive. I wouldn't make a blanket recommendation because it's not the kind of thing everyone would love, but I dug it. Oh - if you do see it, I'd say don't do it with a Frenchman, because he'll shush you when you're laughing loudly as you (and Americans in general) are prone to do. Of course, you won't care because you don't see comedies in order to not laugh and you figure that the Frenchman needs to let loose and just LAUGH when something is funny, but... it might annoy your companion. You're a better person than me if you'd actually do anything about it.
"I'm on vacation. Oh, and if anyone asks, I'm also on smack."
I just got back from Rome, and as I'm pretty tired right now I'm going to save my excessively long reports and pictures for tomorrow (so, you know... check back for that). In the interim, a quick tip: when the Italian Passport Control guy sees that you're American and asks "Meekhain, Cleeenteen, Ohbumuh?" you're apparently supposed to say "McCain." If you say something else, he will yell "Meekhain" a couple of times and threaten to keep your passport. I was honestly surprised at his choice; anyone have a possible explanation?
