Oh man, my phone fell out of my purse in my dad's car back in Toulon. So that means, no morning alarm for me. My roommate really saved me on this one, as he called her from my phone and she came to pick my up from the train station and she's going to wake me up tomorrow, ha.
...Come to think of it, possibly Tuesday too.
I swear -- to use a totally over-used cliche -- I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on tight. But I see where I get it from. Dad and I got our hair cut together yesterday, total bonding moment, and my digital camera was tucked away in my jacket pocket -- or so I thought. When she put the drape over me, the hairdresser put my jacket and shopping bag in the closet. As we're leaving, I reached into my pocket, then my purse and started to freak out because of course, the camera wasn't in either place!!
Turns out it was instead under the seat in my dad's car. Gosh, I don't ever drop things down there. But point of my story, as we returned to Jean-Claude's house, my dad had the same mental lapse. He started freaking out looking for his camera because he too thought it was gone. I think his car is a kleptomaniac, because his camera had also fallen into its depths. That glovebox is pretty deep.
And again this morning, after he put the camera inside of his suitcase, he couldn't seem to find it. But alas, it was in that darn bag all along. We really do make a fine pair.
But what I REALLY want to write about in this blog entry has nothing to do with me (and my dad for that matter) being a total mess. Nope.
It's about Miss France. Mees Frawnce.
Total joke. The best part about it was, actually there were two really good parts, French singer Johnny Hallyday's performance. I wish I could put into words what I saw. He's got to be in his 70s to start with and he's a total washup in my mind. Anyways, he actually sang during the performance but I swear to God, the man doesn't know how to play a guitar. He had three other people playing instruments with him, while he strummed his guitar -- infrequently. His left hand never once moved up or down, while with the pick in his right hand, he just kept going back and forth systematically. I'm pretty sure that was all for show.
The other amazing part of the night was the woman in charge of "cultivating" all the young competitors -- Geneviève de Fontenay.
Isn't she a looker?
Man I had nightmares from her. She only wears that hat and is completely plastered in make-up -- nay, face paint, like the stuff circus clowns put on. It seems as if she no longer has any hair, because it's pulled back so tightly as an alternative, or perhaps a supplement, to the years and years of Botox treatments this lady must be receiving. As a result of her hair like that, her eyes, mouth and cheeks are stretched very tightly to the sides and back of her face, like a circus clown's creepy smile once more. And because of all the stress she must be putting on her decrepit skin, her forehead has these terrible splotches all over the place.
I don't think I'd ever want, in my entire life, coaching lessons on how to win a BEAUTY pageant from this woman.
The best image I can conjure up would be just to leave you with one final question:
Have you ever seen the movie Death Becomes Her?
- and -
16 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE!!
...Come to think of it, possibly Tuesday too.
I swear -- to use a totally over-used cliche -- I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on tight. But I see where I get it from. Dad and I got our hair cut together yesterday, total bonding moment, and my digital camera was tucked away in my jacket pocket -- or so I thought. When she put the drape over me, the hairdresser put my jacket and shopping bag in the closet. As we're leaving, I reached into my pocket, then my purse and started to freak out because of course, the camera wasn't in either place!!
Turns out it was instead under the seat in my dad's car. Gosh, I don't ever drop things down there. But point of my story, as we returned to Jean-Claude's house, my dad had the same mental lapse. He started freaking out looking for his camera because he too thought it was gone. I think his car is a kleptomaniac, because his camera had also fallen into its depths. That glovebox is pretty deep.
And again this morning, after he put the camera inside of his suitcase, he couldn't seem to find it. But alas, it was in that darn bag all along. We really do make a fine pair.
But what I REALLY want to write about in this blog entry has nothing to do with me (and my dad for that matter) being a total mess. Nope.
It's about Miss France. Mees Frawnce.
Total joke. The best part about it was, actually there were two really good parts, French singer Johnny Hallyday's performance. I wish I could put into words what I saw. He's got to be in his 70s to start with and he's a total washup in my mind. Anyways, he actually sang during the performance but I swear to God, the man doesn't know how to play a guitar. He had three other people playing instruments with him, while he strummed his guitar -- infrequently. His left hand never once moved up or down, while with the pick in his right hand, he just kept going back and forth systematically. I'm pretty sure that was all for show.
The other amazing part of the night was the woman in charge of "cultivating" all the young competitors -- Geneviève de Fontenay.
Isn't she a looker?Man I had nightmares from her. She only wears that hat and is completely plastered in make-up -- nay, face paint, like the stuff circus clowns put on. It seems as if she no longer has any hair, because it's pulled back so tightly as an alternative, or perhaps a supplement, to the years and years of Botox treatments this lady must be receiving. As a result of her hair like that, her eyes, mouth and cheeks are stretched very tightly to the sides and back of her face, like a circus clown's creepy smile once more. And because of all the stress she must be putting on her decrepit skin, her forehead has these terrible splotches all over the place.
I don't think I'd ever want, in my entire life, coaching lessons on how to win a BEAUTY pageant from this woman.
The best image I can conjure up would be just to leave you with one final question:
Have you ever seen the movie Death Becomes Her?
23 More Days Until France BANS Indoor Smoking! :)
- and -
16 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE!!
1 comment:
that lady is a beaut! I'm not sure if it's better than here in the states where The Hairpiece (mr. Trump) presides over the pagents. Maybe they'd make a nice couple!
Sorry you lost your cell - I'm sure you get that gene from your dad not your mom. It's definitely a Moyal thing...
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