Jell-o slip'n'slide

I dreamed last night that my mom gave me a special slip'n'slide for my birthday that had a place which could be filled with Jell-O. Everyone was on Jones-Rice field and Michael Jackson was there, being the announcer/MC, ala Mr. McClammor, my creepy typing teacher from ninth grade. I was startled awake before the first test of my new toy, by my friend Cody yelling to the second floor of my room (I told you it was big): "are you dressed?" Dressed? At noon on the monday of yet another week with no classes? After the weekend I had? Are you kidding?

I'm going to try to keep this short, as this whole "weekend without internet" thing sucks.

Friday night we ended up in a Latino bar that played lots of disco and songs from grease which people who don't speak English were singing very loudly to. There was a special on sangria (3€) and an crowd of rowdy Spaniards. After shutting the place down at three we moved on to Snooker, a bar around the corner which played a rediculously loud combination of french rap and American everything. My friend Alexis and I found the remix of "Ghostbusters" particularly awesome. That ended at about five am with a lot of hungry, sweaty Americans.

I don't remember Saturday-day (it was nothing but sleep, I'm sure), but we wanted to find a bar where we could just sit: voila Les Pirates Caribean. The Violette shooters tasted like cough syrup; I'm bringing some home for Tim. The wisconsinites tried to show up and rain boringness across the land like a plague but we didn't have room for them and they're remarkable slowness at our table. I'll probably find out that they're prefectly nice people and regret saying this wholeheartedly... meh.

Sunday we found an outdoor market which is beyond discription. The fishes, cheeses and olives alone could melt me alive. The best orange I've ever eaten jumped into my open arms.

After that is was the Musée d'Histoire Naturelle; if you can figure out what that means you get a cookie. It was like a dead zoo-- lots of stuffed birds and some awesome deranged animals. I particularly liked the cow with one head and two bodies and the cat with no face. Neat. No souveniers, alas.

Then we discovered that the Musée des Beaux Arts has three more floors than we thought it did and we wandered around for a long time looking at deceivingly handsom busts of Napoleon and lots and lots and lots of Jesus. More Jesus than you can shake a cross at. It was all beautiful and stunning and breathtaking and whatnot but what got me is the way you can tell what parts of the world were diddling other parts of the world by the way Jesus and Mary look. Mary with the face of an indian goddess, Jesus looking for all the world like a byzantine who just got mugged, even the saints... museums here are like deep, winding cathedrals with no chairs and more naked statues... There's a Rodin of the head of John the Baptist. It's great.

For those of you who wonder about the politics over here, we've only gotten in one discussion about the shape of things. Maxim, the very outspoken and hardly innocent, 17 year-old who lives in our building and loves french rap, explained something to us about Bush and then about French Socialism but I didn't catch much. And that's been it. Maybe it's the distinct lack of French people in our building, it's not like the Wisconsinites are talking.

Phrase du jour: Je ai besoin d'une autre baguette, non? (I need another baguette, right?)