I feel like I should preface this story by telling you that it ends in both tears and vomit, so sensitive stomachs beware.
I don’t want to dwell on the sickening details, so I’ll cut to the chase. Tonight, Madame Jan served me this…THING…that resembled a giant penis more than any non-penis object I have ever seen in my life. But WAY uglier. If a flacid penis is gross, then this was something from Dawn of the Dead.
Oui, with EVERYTHING.
Get it?! Prime example of Franglais.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:
I support chickens of all sexual orientations. Therefore, in honor of not eating bigot chicken, I present to you Le McBaguette. Continue reading
Oui, they are EVERYWHERE.
Non, the French don’t actually eat them on the reg.
Whoever said money can’t buy you class–sorry, Luann!–clearly had never been to France: where wine is cheaper than water.
All it takes is a mere 3€ (2 coins here!) for INSTANT class.
Sure, aux États-Unis we like to leisurely sip on our café, but not en France! We Parisian girls have things to see and people to do…wait…
Hence, I give you ESPRESSO. All the jitters of American coffee, with none of the giant mug! You can add crème and/or sucre to your espresso, but know that you are being judged by a café full of Paris natives not only for your Nikes but also for taking your coffee like an 11-year-old girl.