Bonjour! Look at that, I'm speaking french already.
I'm leaving on an aeroplane to the city of croissants and street PDA tonight, so I'll be a little pokey on the updates most likely until I'm back, jet-lagged and only able to fit into my stretchiest pair of leggings. We've got a whole bunch of adventures planned, and by adventures, I of course mean "every single meal for a week", with some of that sightseeing tourist stuff in between. I actually and embarrassingly asked if we could skip the Louvre thinking it would cut into our binge eating time, and was glared at like the type the person who sees a Jackson Pollack and goes, "Didn't i do this with spin art?". Which, actually, is an argument you could make, but ALAS he is a paint plop master and we are all just mere Crayola mortals.
Anywho, I know painfully little about a city I've always dreamed of visiting save for a Woody Allen film and some fringe knowledge about first-person possessive and Les Miserables plot lines, so I'm going to own my Americanne-ness and most likely lose my mind. A semester of French, two weeks of spinning and a pack of Lactaid won't save me from smearing brie on my mouth, sticking my arms halfway through the ends of baguettes and running down the streets like a gluten Transformer, so why stop now!
There's an envelope filled with $500 in my backpack for the sole purpose of throwing down on Colette's counter for accessories I surely do not need. Please don't rob me.