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

I'm Starving and REALLY should be studying.

I am writing to you from my local Starbucks with a growling stomach, studying for my last midterm tomorrow morning. This is my first time in all of college I actually feel as though I fit the starving student stereotype. It is not that my parents won't give me money for food, they are generous. It is not that I am unable to go to the grocery store, I have a car filled with gas. The truth is that I have been busy. Too busy in fact to realize I was starving and then too busy to do something about it.

I had a lot of homework assigned over break. 6 papers, a test, and a group project to be exact. And I did exactly 0% of it. So now I am paying the price of my procrastination. Although, all I want in this world is a tub of peanut butter on toast, that would require me walking home, getting in my car, and driving to shop. I don't have the time! I don't even have the time to be writing this blog! So I'll make it quick.

As I sit here and feel my stomach attempt to digest non-existent food, for all that is in it is two shots of expresso and artificial sweetener (thank you for the giftcard mom!) I am too weak from starvation (or some wealthy white girl version of starvation) to make it home to make the trek to the grocery store. Plus there is the small detail that over break I may have spent most of my grocery money at Forever 21, which seemed like a good idea but unfortunately there is not a lot of nutritional value in faux fur.

So, I've been living off leftover thanksgiving pies, again thank you Mom, you always have my back. But apparently, a diet of butter and sugar with a chocolate drizzle doesn't count as a nutritional meal. Who knew? My childhood fantasy of dessert for every meal is not nearly as epic as I had imagined.

So I continue my studies, feeling the aches and pains of not eating.

I'm a Hypocrite: Yoga Pant Ramblings

On a further note, after waking up in a pool of self-loathing, I decided, you know what self, I'm not going to shower, not going to brush my hair, going to wear my glasses, and I'm going to wear my pajamas and head to class. I just decided, I'm going to look like a hobo and everyone in class will just have to plug their noses and look the other way. To my surprise, I BLENDED RIGHT IN. I did not stand out in the slightest but I looked like every other half asleep girl in my recitation. I have been way too narcissistic not to notice the little bits of egg and cheerios in the hair of the other girls in class.

Even though I did indeed partake in the yoga pants and cheerios look, that does not mean that I should ever again or that any other girl at school should either. Unless you just pulled an all-nighter studying for a final, your dog died, or your boyfriend just dumped you, you have no reason why you can't slip into a pair of jeans. If you did have some traumatic even happen to you the night before, you have a 24 hour period where no showering and yoga pants are acceptable. Not to act like the fashion police, but HELL NO LADIES. I deserve 10 lashes for my public indecency and so do you. Yoga pants are for yoga. AMEN.

Dinner Time with Lawyers

Here is the outline for a standard dinner with the Marylander's.

Katie: I (being the opinionated 19 year old college student I am) believe X.

“X” can be anything from my opinion on government officials to my favorite pizza topping.

Mom: Why is that your opinion? Please include statistics and be prepared for follow up questions.

Katie: I believe X because of A,B, and C.

Dad: I see where you're coming from, but here is why you are wrong, “[insert insight]”

Katie: Questions/comments/concerns regarding said “insight”

Mom: Have you considered Y?

Katie: Y may be true but X is what I believe. Let me clarify, it is not simply X that I believe, but it is Q,R, and S about X that I do.

Mom: Q and R are good points. But really? S? You can do better.

Dad: Have you considered blogging about it?

Joey: CAN WE GET BACK TO ME!?

Thank you family, for making me the writer I am and giving me the opportunity to have opinions, voice them, and truly understand what they mean. I am wise beyond my years due to night after night of these conversations.

KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS MR. CONGRESSMAN

So explain this to me, do you sign a contract when you become a politician that requires you to do some sexually repugnant act? or does it just give you permission to whip out your wanker whenever and wherever you please? The rich and powerful men running our country just can't seem to keep it in their pants. They are either having a love child with the hired help, putting half naked pictures of themselves on the internet, or sending pictures of their shlongs to some very unlucky ladies. No matter where you look, there's another middle aged statesmen's in tighty whities flexing in the mirror. PUT IT AWAY! No one wants to see that! Keep your wee little pecker tucked away where it belongs.

It was recently uncovered that the obnoxious democratic congressman from New York Anthony Weiner is making attempts at not only fulfill his end of the dong-contract, but also to live up to his name. Weiner has put his weiner in the lime light. He was caught “sexting” (isn't he too old to know what that is?) various women and sending them pictures of his concave chest and unfortunate package in “cock shot 2011” (Jon Stewart). After pictures of his erect penis surfaced on Twitter, Weiner went on national TV and lied about having any knowledge the lewd photographs. Liar liar pants on fire. What did you expect? Someone else was going to take responsibility for your breakfast sausage?

Weiner then came clean and claimed ownership of his winky, admitting publicly to being a perv. Here's the kicker folks, not only is Weiner a married man, but he's a married man with a baby on the way! Why someone would ever agree to procreate with this man is beyond me (closed her eyes and counted to ten?). His wife is not just a piece of arm candy to take to political rallies, although she is light years out of his league, she is Huma Abedin who just so happens to be BFFs with the Clintons. Our dear congressman is screwed, and not in the way he had hoped. His only hopes of staying politically active is in the hands of his betrayed wife and let me tell you buddy, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

Growing Up

 Freshman year of college, check. What did I learn in this psuedo-real world? I've learned what my parents are paying the big bucks for, something academic. Yes folks, I said academic, quite a difference from my less than satisfactory education courtesy of Niwot High School. At Nitwit, my education consisted of bull shitting my way through every class and smiling my way to As. This strategy doesn't quite fly at the University level. Now I can tell you the origins of syphilis, the causes of the deterioration of newspapers, and all about our evolution from the apes. I worked harder in my first week of classes then I did in all of my senior year of high school. I also learned a lot about myself. I moved out from the ever watchful eye of my dearest mother and found that, hey, I can do my own laundry and make my own bed. I found that I am a good judge of character. I rid my life of the people that bring me down and let the people in that raise me up. I'm looking out for myself, telling people how to treat me, I guess, I'm a big girl now.

Above all else, I learned that this is the best time of my life. It is the only time I can be completely selfish. Now, before you jump to the conclusion that this girl is far too into herself, hear me out. This is the only time in my life where I am living rent free (thanks mom and dad), living with all my friends, and most importantly, I have no responsibility to anyone but myself. There is no husband counting on me or children who need me. I am on my own, no strings attached, and I am loving every moment. I'm doing stupid things; running from the cops, getting in cars with strangers, giving my heart away, drinking the punch, and not giving any of it a second thought. This is the time in my life to be stupid and selfish and I am doing just that. So for all of you future scholars, embrace it!!! This is as good as its going to get.