This place has everything
Lucy in Paris
Monthly Archives: October 2012
As if living in Paris hasn’t left me broke enough already, the Euro exchange has gotten worse since my last post.
If those numbers mean nothing to you, basically the significance is that since my last Eurotrash update, those numbers at the bottom have gotten bigger, which is bad news bears for us Americans pretending to be French people.
As much as I would love to say that the Houses of Parliament or St Paul’s was my favorite part of London, alas, my heart belongs to Harrods. It is a truly magical place. I guess this is how kids feel when they go to Disney after their parents get divorced… #rightofpassage
It’s like I finally understand what Belinda Carlisle was singing about in 1987.
Ooh, Balmain, do you know what that’s worth?
Compared to Harrods, Bon Marché’s the worst,
They say at Harrods, bears come first,
A milkshake from Harrods can quench your thirst,
Ooh, Harrods is a place on Earth!
You’re probably thinking, “This sounds like Christmas morning!” Well as a matter of fact…
They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in London, oddly enough, so after, like, labor day, they jump straight into Christmas!
Harrods has something for everyone! Even a Mackenzie-Childs room, where your mom can buy more turtle pots that your dad will probably arrange to look like they’re procreating! What, that doesn’t happen at your house?
Still think I’m being a drama queen? (Me, dramatic? Never!) Wait ‘till you hear this. There’s a Pizzeria, where the chefs–wait for it–SING OPERA. No joke. They literally belt it out while they’re tossing your dough.
But wait, there’s more. What is this, my birthday? One of the escalators (because there are several) is Egyptian themed and called the Egyptian Escalator. Now, not only can you walk like an Egyptian, but ride like one too!
Even the bathrooms at Harrods are superior. They have actual perfume. Not like cheap bathroom cologne, oh no, we’re talking Chanel and Prada quality scents. Can’t go walkin’ around Harrods smellin’ cheap.
Remember that scene in the Parent Trap when Lilo is like “I’m Hallie,” and Natasha Richardson is like,
“People say you’re a mother-less California freak who is a less hot version of your twin sister Annie” “Let’s spend the rest of the day getting lost in Harrods”? Well that’s how Nanner and I spent Saturday afternoon. No, really, this is how I found her…
They should really take before and after pics of people at Harrods. Walking in, looking solemn, and leaving, looking like John Stamos just said you were pretty.
Oh, that awkward moment when your post about Harrods is longer than your post about the entire city of London…
London…so hot right now…London.
Though I am assured that it is endearing when Americans speak French, sometimes you’re just over saying “Repetez s’il vous plaît” after every sentence. In times like this, I find it best to smile, nod enthusiastically, and, if you’re especially into whomever you’re talking to, let out a little laugh. Yes, sometimes you have to fake French.
For example, in class the other day, we seemed to stray from le diable et l’idée du mal to cover a more domestic area of study. What I understood was that in the second oeuf (egg), the linge (laundry) and the liberty fight le lit (bed) and it creates an obscure guafre (waffle). I decided to roll with it…you can’t really ask for an English translation à la Sorbonne. I was like, “I never knew Victor Hugo had such an affinity for kitchen appliances!”
As it turns out, the oeuf is oeuvre (work), linge is l’ange (angel), still not sure what the bed really is, and guafre is gouffre (chasm), but I didn’t learn any of this until after the fact. If I had dwelled on the details of Mr. Hugo’s
egg work, I would have been frustrated the rest of the period. Faking French gets me through the day! If a French man yells something unintelligible at me from a bar across the street, he must be very politely saying that I look like a sophisticated young lady, right? “Merci!” If a woman mutters something about the loud American tourists in the back of the metro, I roll my eyes in agreement. “Ugh, les Americains.” If I can’t hear the waiter over the commotion at the restaurant, he’s probably asking if I want more wine. “Bien sûr!” Anyway, my français is coming along slowly but surely, but when in doubt, the answer is always oui.
This song is kind of horrible, but
it resonates with me basically I just like their costumes…
Evil takes human form in Mitt Romney. Don’t be fooled, he might seem like your typical uptight, sexist, GOP presidential candidate, but in reality, he is so much more than that. He tries to act all innocent like, “Oh, I used to live in Michigan with my 5 little sons and my little wifey!” but by asserting the need to overturn Roe-vs-Wade on his 2012 campaign website and saying that he would end federal aid to Planned Parenthood, Romney is facilitating the GOP’s war on women. A hypocrite, Mitt Romney opposed gay marriage in a speech about the “freedom to build life” in America. Why would he do this? Because he’s a life ruiner. He ruins people’s lives! Romney wants to reward the wealthy with more tax breaks, paid for by raising middle class taxes. He has no plans to withdraw our troops from Afghanistan. He is against affirmative action. Mitt Romney a grotsky little
byotch bigot. In short, MITT ROMNEY CAN’T SIT WITH US!!!!
P.S. The French are all about some BO. It’s Obamarama over here.