Food

Gold Stars and Birthday Crowns

The Meghan, 1 Comment

French Word of the Day: reine (ren)- queen

It’s my lovely Aunt Susi and cousin Bridget’s birthday today, so I’ve made them sparkly crowns (I tried tiaras, but they looked more like blobs of yellow).  May they have many more birthdays!

My Aunt Cheryl sent me a FABULOUSLY YUMMILICIOUS box of truffles (chocolate cures EVERYTHING except obesity), so she’s getting a gold star, as well.  God, I love my family!

Glitter hearts, sparkly hearts, and stars are now the most frequently searched terms to find my blog.  I also had one “glitter boyfriends.”  I’m glad this is how everyone is getting to know me, and also that people actually search those terms.

It’s International Women’s Day tomorrow, so I hope all the women will be celebrating.  I’ve been lucky enough to be surrounded by a ton of them, so if you’re reading this, I sparkly heart you mucho!  Have chocolate on me!

*EDIT* Thanks to Uncle Hank for the chocolates too, of course!!!!!!!  They are very much appreciated!

Pain au chocolat count: 61

Fashion Week

The Meghan, 3 Comments

French Word(s) of the Day: Fashion Week (fah-shon week)- Fashion Week (sometimes they don’t change it)

Fashion Week is going on as I type this.  Beautiful, famous people are everywhere.  (I assume, I haven’t seen them.)

This also means that there are beautiful parties with free food and alcohol.

I work for a newspaper organization, but it’s not the type of place that would get me invitations to fashion parties.  Although, we do know how to have fun.

For the Christmas party, everyone gets flown to Germany (man, did I come at the wrong time, or what?!).  They decided to steal some of the wine from the party and bring it back.   Yesterday at the end of the day, we popped open a wine bottle and had more fun writing and editing articles than usual.  I think we still created decent articles.  I actually had finished writing by the time I had a glass, but I think the editing part went well.  It was the first time my boss didn’t have anything to correct for me.  Maybe I should only edit after alcohol consumption?  Here’s how it turned out: http://www.editorsweblog.org/newspaper/2011/03/uk_study_finds_low_numbers_of_women_in_j.php

Roanne has been interning for a PR firm that represents designers, so she’s been partying it up for Fashion Week.  She texted me during the workday and asked if I would like to attend the Marie Claire magazine party.  I was uberexcited.  I’ve only seen parties like that in cinematic gems such as 13 Going on 30 and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.  I assume those are exactly like real life.

I assumed I’d never have the chance again, so I accepted.

Roanne asked Martin to come with us, and it became a reunion of the 3 people who decided to stay the whole year in Paris (such a chore, I know).

The invitations are so artfully displayed on one of my reject dresses.

I had Roanne make sure I was dressed properly.  My clothing was still too bright for the fashion industry (for a group of supposedly “fashion forward” people, their color palate is decidedly lacking… black is the new black), but I assume that I’m also happier and more mentally stable than most of the fashion industry and was completely unconcerned.

My nose is really red in this picture, but I had just come from outside.  It isn’t red in the later pictures, but that was when Roanne told me to stop smiling because models don’t smile.  Instead, they look like they’re in pain.  I assume this is because of their shoes.  But anyway, I wanted to look like I was having a good time… and not like I wanted to kill whoever was taking my picture.

The main photographer snapped a picture of Roanne and me.  I assume this will be in every Marie Claire magazine next month- all 25 of them.  Roanne and I are Very Important People, even if we don’t have Porches or BMWs.

You do get free food and drinks at these parties, but you must pay for it in pain.  To be “in fashion” means wearing stilettos: shoes designed by a man who hated feet and wanted them to die.  I actually did engage in this fashion ritual.  I will never be going to a Fashion Week party ever again so I wanted to do it right.  My heels were 4 inches.  That was high enough.  I don’t know how anyone could go higher and still walk.

It was worth it.  The food was fabulous!  We had crab sushi, risotto, paté, shrimp, and fillet mignon served on sticks.  I’ll have to make a few million dollars before I eat that well again.

The champagne and cocktails were also quite lovely.  God bless the man who invented the “open bar.”  (Don’t worry, I didn’t overindulge.  Even if I had, fillet mignon cancels out alcohol.)

The space was a bit cramped.  I think I would have chosen a bigger place.  We mostly stood by the bar and the stairs to ensure we got first dibs on anything food-related.

There weren’t any famous people there, but we did talk with a boy sporting black fingernail polish and a brooch of Marilyn Monroe.  He assured us that brooches were coming back.  Of course, his brooch was black.  If I hadn’t been able to see the color on my dress, I would have assume that the room had some kind of color-changing device that automatically made any color black.

Roanne managed to find the only straight male in the entire room.  I don’t know how he even got in- everyone else I met definitely batted for the same team I do.  I think they’re going out today.  I’m glad she’s expanding her contacts in the fashion industry.

We all got to take home a magazine.  I took one in Portuguese and one in French and Roanne took 3: French, Italian, and Arabic.  Martin didn’t take any, but he wouldn’t have been able to carry anything as he was in charge of helping me walk.  (By this time, I had stopped being able to feel my feet.  It made walking more difficult.)

All-in-all, I gave the party an 8.  The lack of famous people and space brought it down 2 points, but the food and drinks brought it back up.

I might be a tourist today in hopes of seeing some celebrities breaking up.  I’ll keep you updated.

Pain au chocolat count: 60

Just A Normal, Everyday ER Visit

The Meghan, 2 Comments

French Word of the Day: Urgences (er-jaunce)- the ER

This is a bit long, so I littered it with pictures to entice everyone.

I am myself, so it was only a matter of time before I ended up in the ER.  Quite frankly, I’m surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.  I’m not exactly good at performing tasks like walking in straight lines.

The day before my visit, Sunday, was actually fairly normal.  I did yoga and then Arnaud and I wandered around Monmartre.  Here’s a bit of Sacre Coeur:

My picture focuses on the Merry-Go-Round.  Clearly the more important of the two visual objects.

We went behind the basilica and I found this building:

I assume it’s the Rectory… but you know what they say about people who assume: they’re always right.

We walked just a few blocks away and found a street littered with sex shops.  I thought its positioning was completely appropriate to one of the most well-known religious sites in the world.

This was on the street, but has nothing to do with either sex or religion:

For those who can’t read it, it says: “Bakery, Patisserie…  GREEK SANDWICHES!”

Only three things I’ve been trying to find in the same place for my entire existence.  I absolutely had to see the inside after such a sign.  I was pleasantly surprised to find this:

You see that and you think to yourself, “Okay, I’ll let you offer me Greek sandwiches too.”  I didn’t actually buy anything, but now that I know where I can find pastries and Greek sandwiches in one building… I probably still won’t go there.

So Arnaud and I parted ways and I reposed a bit before attempting to go to sleep.  I decided to be really good about it and go to sleep at 11pm.  My internship was the next morning at 11am.  I was fully prepared to get a proper amount of sleep.

When I lied (lied, not laid… hens lay, people lie… must remind self every time I write this) down, my neck began to hurt.  I couldn’t move it.  It felt like someone had taken a bat and struck it repeatedly.

I’m a bit forgetful sometimes, but I think I would remember someone hitting me with a bat.

To make matters worse, my neighbor decided this was the night she wanted to watch her television.  It wasn’t too loud, but I have supersonic hearing that magnifies when I attempt to sleep.  I can hear a pin drop in the next house over.  I let her watch for an hour, but then decided I’d had enough and banged on her door.

She didn’t respond.  I got tired of knocking and attempted to lie down with a sweater over my ears.  When that didn’t work, I banged on the wall.  And then again.

I went back out and banged on her door again.  At 3:30 am when I was starting to worry she had been murdered, she woke up and was all “Oh, do you want me to turn down the tv?”

No.  I’m just knocking on the door to ask for a cup of sugar.

My shoulder didn’t want me to sleep… even though I had complete silence.  The next morning I trekked to Shelley’s office and collapsed in it and said something along the lines of “No sleep.  Need sleep.  Pain.  Hurt.”  She called my lupus doctor, but he decided to go out of town this week.  I’m sure he and my lupus planned this together.

We went to the ER where they gave me pain meds and a really hot doctor asked me questions about my shoulder.  He’s convinced I pulled it doing yoga.  I’m not sure I agree that something I’ve done 4 times a week for a year without any neck problems just decided to hurt me, but then again, I don’t have a medical license.  The lupus doctor we saw today didn’t think it was lupus either, but he’s contacting my real doctor and letting him know.

The ER visit only lasted an hour.  I was impressed.  I don’t think I’ve ever had one under 5 in the US.

They gave me more pain medication and I was able to move my left arm properly.  Always a joy.  I then went home and took a much-needed nap.

I told Théo why I hadn’t been able to go to my internship, and he brought me these:

(Yes, that is a Sox cup for a vase.  Vases weren’t my main packing priority.)  This makes the 3rd bouquet of flowers I’ve ever received from a guy, so I was most pleased.

He also brought and made me dinner, which was nice to not have to worry about.

Now I’m just chillin’ and restin’.  Shelley has ordered me to take it easy for the next few days.  I feel much better already, but she doesn’t want me to overdo it by starting my internship tomorrow, so I’ll wait until next week.  This means it’ll extend into my Spring Break, but as I haven’t booked anything yet, I’m not worried.

In my boredom, I have made a twitter account.  This is mainly because I’m utterly convinced that everyone in the entire world needs to hear every thought that crosses my mind and because I want to feel like Taylor Swift and I are friends in real life: http://twitter.com/#!/megselise I’m willing to follow people to make it look like I have real friends.

Not sure I’ll have much to say in the next few days, as I plan on being boring.  I am feeling better though, so no need to worry!

Pain au chocolat count: 56

If you’re the person who stole the pains au chocolat from my bakery, read no further.

The Meghan, 4 Comments

French Word of the Day: héros (air-oh)- hero, as in “did you ever know that you’re my…”

I have some bad news and some good news.

The bad news is that my bakery ran out of pain au chocolat, which means that it’s possible for that to happen, which means the world just got a little darker.

The good news is that Brittany, my college roommate, sent me a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which have chocolate AND peanut butter.  They’re already gone.  I was going to save them, but then I remembered that bakeries could run out of pain au chocolat, and the Reese’s were needed.  Sometimes I eat my feelings.

She also gave me a historical trashy romance novel… which is the best kind.  I give her a 20, which is the best French grade you can get.  And also this personalized gold star that I made with Paint:

(Coincidentally “gold star” is one of the most commonly searched terms for finding my blog.  True story.)

I also had a good interview today (you would think THAT would be my good news, but chocolate always comes before work).  I think the woman really liked me.  She’s British, so we both have our Anglophone-ness in common.  She was excited that I knew French, because apparently no one on her team has a strong French background (she speaks Italian).

It’s a good thing they’re working in Paris.

I don’t know if I got it, but she’s British, and will therefore probably let me know BEFORE I’m suppose to have completed my internship.

*EDIT*: The British are way faster.  I got the job!

Pain au chocolat count: 50…  sigh

A Picture-Happy Post

The Meghan, 3 Comments

French Word(s) of the Day: en panne (awn panne)- out of order, broken

My camera is en panne (technology doesn’t like me very much), so this post contains blackberry pictures.  Though blurry, they’re probably less blurry than any my camera could have produced.  I got into picture-taking mode this weekend.  This probably means that my blog entry will take 8 times longer to load than usual, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Versailles was lovely, as always.  We got a special tour of the king’s private rooms.  The king had a ceremony every morning when he woke up and when he went to sleep.  People would watch both occasions.  In between these two ceremonies, he would be woken up by his valet and moved to a completely different bed in a completely different room.  This means he fell asleep and woke up twice everyday.  As if being king wasn’t work enough.

Being woken up twice everyday would suck, but I can feel his pain.  My neighbor’s alarm clock rings everyday a half hour before mine does.

We got to go into the chapel at Versailles, which I’ve never been able to do before.  They don’t let you go in, normally.  You just stand outside the chapel entrance and try to take pictures over everyone’s heads.  Not this time!  I was a VIP; I got to cross the red gate.

You want to cross the red gate.  The non-gate-crossers were jealllllous.  They tried to get in with us, but Shelley weeded them out.

Can you hear the angels singing?Not too shabby, eh?

This is where the king sat for mass…  Higher than everyone else.  Nowadays, this is where the people with the loud babies go.  And choirs.

And this is the beautifully painted ceiling.  You can’t see that behind the red gate.

On Sunday, Théo and I finished off my cake.  This was, of course, a very trying task.  Who likes eating delicious, critically-acclaimed cake?

It really was well-received.  Everyone at the party raved about it, and even Arnaud asked me who made it.  Théo has informed me that its deliciousness came from intense amounts of butter, sugar, chocolate, and eggs.  I don’t expect it will appear in any health food cookbooks.  But it really was fabulous.

Théo posing with his masterpiece.  He doesn’t know I’m putting this on here… I might have to take it down if he finds it, so shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Even the cat wanted some:

 

(He sat on that chair and stared at the cake of his own free will, btws.)

Ok, I leave you now with this photo I took while walking through the metro:

It reads “Vivez la magie de l’Egypte!” which means “Enjoy the magic of Egypt!”

Maybe not right now.

Pain au chocolat count: still 50, but I had CAKE!!!!!!