The Runaway (Princess) Bride

First Hef, now Prince Albert. What is the world coming to?

“L’Express online reported yesterday that Prince Albert’s fiancée, Charlene Wittstock tried to flee the principality over the weekend hours after learning that Albert had not been leading the exemplary life she thought. L'Express claimed that a distraught Wittstock was eventually stopped at the Nice airport, where officials were acting on a request from the royal palace and that it required 'infinite persuasion' by the Prince and members of his entourage to convince her to stay. Christiane Stahl, chief advisor to Prince Albert, vehemently denied the story. She also suggested that the rumors stemmed 'from utter jealousy.'

Yeah, because every gal dreams of marrying a fat, balding Man Whore. Charlene, honey, you are a high school dropout and a mediocre athlete, this is the BEST deal you’re ever gonna get. Go through with the wedding, fill up that suitcase with Royal Cash, then skip town.

Shopping and Eating

Summer is now officially upon us and that means my inbox is filling up daily with emails like this:

Hey Alison!
I'm coming to Paris in a few weeks with my
(boyfriend/husband/uncle/cousin/grandmother)
and was wondering if you could give us some
advice about what to do/see while we are
in town.
Signed: A person you haven't heard from in months

I don't respond to these emails anymore and it's not because I don't want to be helpful. It's because I DO want to be helpful. See, the thing is, unless you are my
genetic twin I doubt that what interests me will interest you. My two favorite things to do in Paris are shopping and eating. If those are your top two interests as well, then I may have some suggestions for you. However, if those are NOT your top two interests then you should probably figure out your own intinerary. I mean, if I tell you what to do and you have a crappy time, then you'll blame me. And the worst, the absolute worst, are people who attach a time frame to their request. For example, "We'll be in Paris for only 48 hours. Any advice on what we shouldn't miss?" Talk about pressure! I'm pretty sure there are a multitude of guidebooks out there on Paris that contain sections called just that(What to see in Paris if you only have 48 hours).

So, to sum up, please don't send me any emails asking for advice about what to do in Paris on your vacation this summer. Unless, of course, you are someone who was MEAN to me in high school. In that case, I DO have a few suggestions for you. First, you MUST visit the Paris Sewers. It is a museum run by the City of Paris that is not only inexpensive but always uncrowded..no waiting in line to get in...ever! After that you should get on the metro and take the thirteen line all the way to the end and exit at Saint Denis. Upon exiting the metro you should yell, "America rocks!" as loud as you can for at least five minutes.

Tryo

In honor of La Fête de la Musique , this post is dedicated to my favorite French band of all time: Tryo. I saw them live in Bordeaux in 2006 during their 10 year anniversary tour and it is a concert I will never forget. My favorite album is "Grain de Sable" but they are all good. Download a few songs to your ipod and check 'em out. They have such a unique sound.

Tryo is a French language 'unplugged' reggae acoustic band, popular in Europe and in Quebec, with three French guitarists, a percussionist, and a producer: Guizmo, Christophe Mali, Manu Eveno, Daniel "Danielito" Bravo and Bibou. They are popular in France partly due to their politically charged lyrics, whilst also showing a fun side with a range of humorous songs, especially in live performances.They take a left wing stance, criticising French politicians and world leaders alike. They have sold 900,000 albums. They had their 10 year anniversary in 2006, followed by a nationwide tour. Tryo have four studio albums, a double CD live album and two live DVDs.

Suppository City

I've come to the conclusion that French people really enjoy shoving stuff up their behinds. The reason I say this is the French medical community just LOVES prescribing suppositories. They prescribe them even when they are not warranted. We, in the US, have a healthy distaste for shoving stuff up our behinds and will ONLY do so as a last resort. Not so in France. Medicines are routinely manufactured ONLY in suppository form. I did not fully realize their obsession with suppositories until after the fifth or sixth time my daughter's medication was given to me in suppository form. At this point I decided to address the issue with the pharmacist.

Me: Can I have the other form of this medication?

Pharmacien: What other form?

Me: The...uhhhh...you know..my daughter is old enough to swallow pills and she's not vomitting or anything so....

Pharmacien: (looking confused) I'm afraid I don't understand, Madame.

Me: Can't I have this medication in pill form, you know, the kind that goes in your mouth?

Pharmacien: Ca n'existe pas.

Me: (looking confused) So, YOU don't have any here, or there isn't any to be found anywhere in Paris?

Pharmacien: CA N'EXISTE PAS!

Me: Ah...bon.

So, if you are a person who enjoys shoving stuff up your behind, you should move to France. And then get sick. Alot.

I Refuse To Be Brad Pitt's Nanny

Not that he’s asked me but, if he did, I’d say no way and here’s why: him and Angelina are apparently overly indulgent parents. Several quotes that he gave to an American publication about their parenting style have now made it into the international media and oh my gravy are they scary. First, about his kids, he told Us Magazine, and this is a direct quote, “Listen, I just want them to do whatever makes them happy. I don’t want to encumber them in any way.” He also admitted to Parade Magazine that “It’s chaos at our house from morning until the lights go out and sometimes after that.” Now, I’m all about kids being ‘unencumbered.’ I believe that the majority of American parents over schedule their kids with all kinds of lessons and activities and that most children do not get enough time to just play. However, you cannot raise children without discipline and rules or else your kids grow up to be spoiled brats. Now, imagine we added millions of dollars into the mix. So, to recap, Brad and Angie’s kids are being raised in an environment where there are very few rules AND they have access to a large amount of cashola. I cannot wait to see how this turns out.

Rooming With God

This past weekend, my husband John, participated in a handball tournament outside of Paris. Team handball, as it is more accurately called, is not the game played by hitting a small rubber ball off the wall with your palm. It is a sport played on a basketball court with a ball the size of a volleyball. It is relatively unknown in the US but is very popular in Europe and thus, as soon as we moved here, John signed up to play with a recreational league. His teammates come from all over the world and one of them just happens to be an Egyptian guy named Allah. I find the idea of naming a kid God even more amusing than the Hispanic tradition of naming a kid Jesus and thus I insist on referring to Allah by the English translation of his name. Seeing that the tournament was being held an hour outside of Paris and since my husband is both the team captain and main organizer, he decided it would be best if the team spent the night in a modest hotel near the arena. To save money, all team members were expected to share a room and my lucky husband got God as his roommate.

“You get to room with God?!” I asked incredulously. “How cool will that be?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” John admonished me. “It’s inflammatory.”

“How can calling someone by their name be inflammatory?”

I could hear him sigh wearily into the phone, a signal that he was not interested in discussing it further (probably because he knew I would win the argument).

“Are you coming down with the girls tomorrow?” he asked.

“Absolutely, we’ll be there by nine.”

“Okay, then, see you tomorrow, honey,” he said, and hung up.

When we arrived at the arena the next morning, I made a beeline for my husband who was sitting down stretching out on the sidelines. I just had to find out how God was as a roommate. Turns out, God is messy. And he snores. Who knew? But the real surprise came during the second half of the match. God was benched for talking trash to the refs, but even that did not keep him from getting riled up. God continued to berate the refs from the sidelines and he even started to swear at them. Loudly. And not just any swear word. Nope. God used the F word. Three times! At this point the head ref came over and told my husband either God had to leave the arena or he was gonna stop the game and call it for the other side. Boy, was John mad. He personally escorted God outside and told him to stay there. Their team won the game, but just barely. After it was over, John informed God that if he didn’t behave from here on out, he was gonna bench him for the rest of the season.