Two outbursts, one night -- part two

Ah yes, I remember starting this a long time ago. Really, it's not that interesting, but I'll finish the story anyway...

I love Grey's Anatomy. Every so often, a serial drama comes along that I just attach myself to for a few seasons. You know, before they jump the shark. 90210, The OC, The Monroes -- oh, you don't remember that one? William Devane was a senator with a large and promiscious family. It was in the vein of Dynasty. Only lasted half a season in like '95. Oh how I loved it.

Anyway, Grey's Anatomy. They showed the first 12 or 13 episodes here and now it's on hiatus. I'm going crazy. I must see what is going on. So this girl I know -- let's call her Jade Cord. Anyway, Jade lets me borrow copies of the later episodes. So I watch the season finale cliffhanger. In the beginning, Meredith finds out the dog that she's been sharing with her ex-lover Derek is dying and they have to put it down.

Now all you rational people realise that this is a plot device to bring our two extremely attractive protagonists together. Not me. I'm really mourning the dog. Actually, I'm thinking about my own dog. I'm picturing this poor little dog that they are putting to sleep as my own little Panfy-dog. And I lose it. Big time. Tears, blubbering, the works.

Anyway, that's it. That's the second of the two outbursts in one night. Told you it wasn't that interesting. Now stop bugging me.

Through the eyes of a visitor

My CouchSurfer has now left as quickly as she arrived. It's been a lovely time, as she's a lovely girl. Everything we had to eat was "great", every place we've been has been "cool" and she knows when to laugh at your jokes and adds a little "that's funny" to cement it. In short, as my parents would say, her parents raised her right.

It's funny to think that September equals three years for me being on these crazy British Isles. My CouchSurfer looks at me as if I'm a native. She says I have a bit of an accent (vigorously denied here at Team CG), though I do unconsciously and consciously pepper my talk with British and Scots words. And things here are different for her -- it looks foreign, but some place that could be familiar to her very soon.

It's also funny to think that she sees these things that we take for granted. The things that I feel are normal are foreign. There are things that are completely different from the US that I totally don't recognise as alien anymore. I shall share what I remember.

• There are more redheads here than there are in the US. Obviously, American media convinces you otherwise. If you're in a lot of three or more attractive women, you will have a redheaded friend, a la Sex in the City or Desperate Housewives. In two days, the CouchSurfer, herself a redhead, counted 26 others. You try that there.
• The toilets here are different. The bowl is smaller, the drainage pipe is positioned differently and there is not as much water in the bowl. Now you know.

My summer theme song

Like many, music adds the punctuation to my life events. Just arriving to the UK -- Sweet Dreams, My LA Ex by Rachel Stevens and Maybe by Emma Bunton. A painful break up -- We Need a Resolution by Aaliyah. Winter Olympics 1994, Lillehammer -- The Sign by Ace of Base. Hey, I didn't say these were great songs. Usually, the song is whatever was on the radio at the time, as I'm a pop music slut. There is no need for me to pretend I like anything remotely enduring or redeeming. I like crap pop music.

The summers I travel have theme songs as well. The summer of 94, just having graduated from high school and in Hawaii -- I Swear by All-4-One. The first summer we lived here -- Everybody's Changing by Keane. The funny thing about those two songs is that I partly hated them. But as they were the songs of their respective summers and played incessantly, they began to grow on my upon the 500th play.

More songs: the summer we travelled back to the States, 1991 or 92 -- Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit. I remember the first time viewing the murky video, listening to Cobain's incoherent singing and thinking things would never be the same if something like that could be played on MTV. So, this summer's full-stop: Ain't No Other Man by Christina Aguillera. The catcy tune was on MTV left and right as we travelled through France. Plus the little beret she wears in the video, though stereotypical this might be, reminds me of French people. Though why the French watch MTV in German is beyond me (obviously it was broadcast in German, but why is it shown in France is the question). Here, you can have a taste of my summer song:

I'm baaaaaack

Hello. Your long-lost friend has returned. I ended quite abruptly, and I apologise. Getting ready for holidays is pretty tough and I was trying to tidy my house for my friend who dog-sat and was supposed to stay in the house (she didn't). I hate cleaning the house -- it's the type of thing that should be done gradually, every day, the type of thing I don't subscribe to.

Well, France. I can't recommend it highly enough. Here are some things you should know, if you plan a trip, with the information provided in the easy to write and read bulleted list -- ahh:

• Corsica is absolutely gorgeous and worth the trip. Beaches, mountains, quaint villages. The train ride from the northwest to the northeast is amazing.
• Corsican food is absolutely shit and completely not worth it. Save the cheese. The Corsicans do this mild, creamy goat's cheese unlike the type I've been used to. Never wait until the early Monday morning before your ferry departure to try to find some to snack on for your trip. You will be looking at an €11 chunk from a dingy corner shop, which your partner will veto on subject of economy and hygiene.
• Give more than half a day to the Alps. Like a comedy of errors that deserves it's own entry, our two days in Chamonix was reduced to 18 hours.
• You will not get to top of the Eiffel Tower before it's 11 pm closing time if you get in the queue only an hour before hand. Damn touristy Americans with their absurd fascination with Tour Eiffel. Likewise, unless you are willing to stump for a taxi, don't attempt a near-midnight ascent of the Tower, as you'll miss all the trains in the Metro and will take 2 hours to walk back to your hotel.
• While walking back from the Eiffel Tower at an absurd and unreasonable hour, do not get your crepe from the dude with two people in his shop. Get it from the dude who has a queue wrapping around his. The former's crepe will be shite.
• Don't even bother with the Mona Lisa. You will feel such a relief about it. As with Tour Eiffel, there is never a time when there won't be a buttload of folksies up in the piece. And anyway, that book is so stupid.
• Swim trunks, though stupid looking and likely to share more than a man ever really wanted to, are hygenic and necessary to have if you want to swim in the rad swimming pool floating in the Seine river. Also necessary is a swim cap for the same hygenic reasons, though picking the skin on your peeling feet, blowing your nose without a tissue and hives all over the body all pass the hygenic test. The French are crazy, crazy people.
• The French will be nicer and friendlier than you think, with more people knowing English than you think. That is because they want your money. They will tolerate you as a person of colour (though no promises on staring at you for startingly uncomfortable lengths), again for the aforementioned reason and as long as you promise not to try and live there.

Hopefully, pictures will be up soon.

I haven't blogged since we got back on Sunday, as we have been otherwise engaged. With all the booking and planning and such, I forgot a few things, one of them being that I already booked our trip back from Leeds (we flew back from Paris to Leeds, where Boy's family's at), so I booked another trip. With it being non-refundable, Mil (mother-in-law) and Filee (her husband, my other father-in-law) came up for two days. Then, the CouchSurfer arrived the day after she left. She leaves tomorrow and Sil (sister-in-law) with Dylan, Zebedee and Dougal arrive. Plus the festivals have started. So I might not be back for a while.