joyeux quatorze juillet!

ok so i totally forgot that today was Bastille Day until sometime over dinner last night, it dawned on me and i said to the boy, "Hey! tomorrow is Bastille Day!" and he said, "Oh... really?". i dont have any French friends here in Atlanta, so i keep forgetting about French national holidays, which is kind of a shame. my mom once said that i'm losing my French identity; as much as i hate to admit that she's right, well, she's right. LE SIGH.

i'm not doing anything French today to celebrate it, as i'd already made plans to go to a local taqueria with some friends of mine. my work schedule has ramped up to where i have to work 5 nights a week now on top of the regular work days, so when i have an evening off i have to make the most of it. tonight i'm catching up with some buddies and one of our Grand Topics of Discussion will be to plan our next Duel, which is slated for this coming Saturday (even though there is no NASCAR race this weekend). except this time it's not really a "duel", as more than two people will participate, so i'm not sure what we're going to call it. i've a feeling that our brains, once fueled with tequila, will come up with something nonsensical. tequila tends to make one feel rather invincible, yet the hangovers... well. we'll leave it at that. here's to tomorrow being rough.

here are a couple of photos i took in 1998 when France was hosting the soccer World Cup, (otherwise known as La Coupe du Monde de Foot). Inflatable giants were paraded all around Paris, i think to represent the different races of man. i'm pretty sure this was Anglo-Saxon man. he's more orange than he ought to be, however in these days of self-tanner, he's not that far off from Lindsay Lohan's skin tone. the reason that first photo is so fuzzy is because i was in a moving vehicle, my uncle Guy at the helm driving like a madman around Paris. one needs to drive like a madman to survive Paris roads. i know this firsthand because my Dad taught me how to drive a stick while on these very roads, and patiently told me to ignore the nuts honking their horns behind me when i stalled. i gestured obscenely at them when i thought my Dad wasn't looking.

one of my fondest memories of that summer was one of the days when Scotland was playing against i dont even remember which country. while walking to the Porte Maillot metro station to get to work that day, i passed by a sidewalk cafe packed like sardines with scottish men in kilts. i kind of have a thing for men in kilts. they make me giddy. so here i was, walking by about a hundred guys in kilts drinking beer at 10 am, one of them wearing a tshirt that read, "One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor", and i blushed violently. one of the kilted men turned to his buddy and said, "French women sure are good looking"; i burst out laughing, and kept walking. why oh why didnt i stop and have a beer with them? one of the few regrets i have in life. LE SIGH.


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