Not to be redundant but...

No one says it quite like Jenna Marbles.
Airports can suck a d.

Just bitchin'

Here has been my day:

Woke up long before the sun, which really isn't saying much in Paris because the sun doesn't even rise until 9:00 am, at an ungodly 6:30 am. We were picked up by Mr. Toad's Wild Ride and driven to the Paris International Airport. Mentally preparing ourselves for the 11 hour flight ahead of us to Dallas, we boarded the plane. 20 minutes later, a heavy french accent comes on the speaker and informs us that the fog is too bad and we won't be able to depart until it clears. Moans and groans fill the cabin and the ethereal voice commands us to stay in out seats.

Over an hour later, we are preparing to take off.

I have spent over 14 hours today sitting on my ass. And my ass is not happy about it.

We finally make it back to the US and I am now writing to you from the Dallas airport. Because of the delay in Paris, we missed our connecting flight set to depart at 6:00 pm to Denver by mere moments. We are now on the flight that leaves Dallas at 9:40.

So, we are trapped in this god forsaken airport WITHOUT ANY WIFI, without our luggage (which I pray to baby Jesus made it back to Denver without us), and without any sleep.

My day has been long, we have been up for over 24 hours and all I have eaten is crap.

I loved our Paris trip, it is by far one of my favorite cities. However, traveling abroad is not something I plan on doing lightly or frequently in the future. I would be 100 pounds heavier and I would have ripped my hair out many times over.

I can't wait to be home in my own bed.

Xo

k

Christmas is about seeing the good in the world.

Day 5:

Christmas time brings people together. It is a time to set aside your differences and do the right thing to anyone and everyone. It is a time to show the people in your life what they mean to you, to show that your treasure their love and that the love is returned.

So, today, I want to talk about all the things I hate.

This includes, but is not limited to:

1. Ke$ha (no fucking way that's what's on your birth certificate)
2. "Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer"
4. Napoleon Dynamite
5. Fleece pajamas
6. Moon Boots (If you want something hideous on your feet, stick to Uggs sweetheart)
7. Uggs
8. Any song Donny Osmond sings or even thought about singing.
9. Nonpareils (I had a bad experience once)
10. Life sucking bitches (sorry about the hostility, thinking of nonpareils sends me right to that dark place)

Back in the Christmas spirit, these are some of the things I love and am lucky to have in my life right at this moment;

1. My mom
2. Cholula Sauce
3. Christmas in Paris (Duh)
4. My dad
5. Breaking Bad
5. University of Colorado
6. Spring break tickets to Mexico!!!!!!
7. Steve Madden
8. Friends that love me unconditionally
9. Faux fur - anything
10. Wine

Merry Christmas!

xo k

Let me shop, damn it!

Day 4:

Fashion in Paris = black

I saw one red scarf today on a local (or at least, assumed local) woman. Everyone else? Black. Head to toe. Maybe a gray belt to spice things up a bit.

All sarcasm aside, they look fantastic in the inky garb. Chic and sophisticated. And, I am happy to report, not a yoga pant in sight. 

So guess what is on my Christmas shopping list? Correct! Black, head to toe.

Today, I did my best to beef up the dark side of my wardrobe, but all I came home with; black boots. Albeit, stunningly, adorable black boots, but still, just a single pair of shoes. The one item purchased thus far on this shopaholics trip in Paris, the fashion capital of the world. 

Want to know why that's all the success I have had? Let me assure you, it is not a lack of stores or conservative spending that has kept my purchases so minimal. Instead, I point my finger at the men that are accompanying me on these shopping outings.  The boots were the only thing I could buy in the allotted ONE HOUR my brothers and dad permitted me to shop today! I am in PARIS and you allow me ONE single hour on the Champs-Elysee??!  Are you kidding me??

It's like I'm dying of thirst and they showed me a picture of a glass of water. 

There is a special circle in hell reserved for you three.

The 26th is reserved for 24 hours of mother/daughter shopping. And no man will stand in our way.

xo k

Paris is giving me scurvy

Day 3:

Today was another day of excessive eating and sightseeing.

The biggest thing to report is that I am pretty sure I have scurvy.

Yes, I am talking about the ailment of pirates and sailors in the 18th century from a vegetable and fruit deficiency. I am aware that I am not a pirate and nor is this the 18th century but as it turns out, it is not super healthy to live off of cheese, bread, and wine. I know, its shocking. I know you thought that wine basically covered the fruit and maybe even vegetable categories, so did I!  But alas, it does not. And thus, the scurvy sets in.

But other then my rapidly diminishing health and my inability to survive without my local Whole Foods, the spoiled Boulderite brat that I am, I fit right in here in Paris. I have the pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes, medium height, and am a little heavy on the sarcasm. My mother however, the little, blonde, mama meshugana she is, stands out like fresh lettuce in a French brasserie. A foot shorter then everyone around here, she marches through town with an excessive bounce in her step to compensate for her lack of height.

This woman no shame when it comes to documenting our Paris getaway. Not only will she shove the nice Korean couple on their honeymoon out of the way for a picture of her children in front of the Eiffel Tower, but she went as far as to disregard any "No Photography" sign in the Museum Dorsay. You know Van Gough's famous self portrait with the teal background? Oh, we have that. She used a flash and everything. The moment her guilty flash went off, her camera was quickly stowed and all the museum's patrons glared in our direction. Not a single one suspected the pint sized, blonde, mother of three and so off we went, to relentlessly damage priceless works of art and annoy the bejesus our of our fellow museum visitors.

xo k

I love this country

Day 2:

I love any country where wine counts as a basic food group. Here, you have cheese, bread, ham, chocolate, and wine. Still hungry? Have a Marlboro Light on the side.

I may have died and gone to heaven. Everything I have eaten would make my grandmother cringe. So bring on the goat cheese and the pomme frites! Not a salad (worth eating) in sight. Unless you want a mayonnaise dressed patch of wilted weeds, then more power to you.

The sights are beautiful. First stop, saw the Eiffel Tower today, pretty distinguishable as far as buildings go. Also, the Arc de Triomphe, I'm pretty sure I saw it on a post card or something once, very cool at night with a fantastic view of the city from the top. Well at least so I hear. Technically speaking, we didn't make it to the top of any buildings. My dad has a fear of heights and mom and I were enjoying our well balanced meals of wine and cheese far too much to risk a wobbly walk to anything higher then the steps up to the Louis Vuitton store. But when I got back to the apartment, I googled what it looks like from the top, and it's pretty spectacular.

xoxo k

Blogging from Paris

Day 1:

Holy fucking jetlag. Excuse my French.

Today, yesterday, this week, whatever day it is - we flew from DIA to Heathrow and then the quick jump to Paris. With an 8 hour time difference and 2 hours of sleep under my belt I am pooped. Everyone is a little on edge and the language barrier doesn't help. Oh yeah, did I mention LANGUAGE BARRIER?!
Alright mom, dad, I am SO happy to be here but um...maybe someone should have given this little detail a teeny bit of thought. Those travel books are 100% correct that people are nice and want to speak English to you as long as you at least give a little effort, try to speak French. Easy enough, right? WRONG. Here are the phrases my family knows in french:
Bonjour
Au revior
Merci

and that's all...
Let me tell you, when you want to order the Salmon at dinner without the hollandaise sauce, saying "merci," grunting, and pointing does NOT get the point across. At least I can be happy none of us have just yelled in English in the hopes of a better response from the natives.

Thank God for the free WiFi, with the help of google translate, for now we can inform our hosts of our incompetence with a little, "Desole, je ne parle francais." - or something along those lines. It's the thought that counts?

After a meal of foie gras and a croque monsieur, we're off to finally catch up on some sleep.

xoxo k