Sally likes it cold.

So... this just happened:


Marissa: Sally, did you put the Teddy Grahams in the fridge?
(Sally remains silent)
Charlotte: She's done it again, ladies!
(Maya begins to laugh hysterically)
Charlotte: First the ice-cream, then the cereal, and now the Teddies.
(Laughter erupts from all parties and slowly fades. After a brief silence)
Sally: I have twice in my life gotten into the shower with my socks on.

Tales from the East Village Continued

I've spoken before of my roommate Marissa and her obsession with all things 1950s. Well, sometimes Marissa gets confused and truly believes she lives in her beloved decade.
Now, I'm not saying that she ducks and covers because she thinks the bomb is gonna hit, or that she protests for civil rights in the streets of New York. No, Marissa lives in a 1950s musical.

One of her favorites is Stanley Donen's "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers", which features the song "June Bride":

Today, I was in my room but the door to the kitchen was open and this song came on the iHome. Knowing that Marissa was in the kitchen, baking, I quickly grabbed my camera, knowing what was inevitably to come.
And surely enough....

Yes, that is indeed a sprig of broccoli she's using as her bridal bouquet.

Facebook keeps trying to get me a man.

Try again.

Walking in Tunnels

This picture was taken during Winter break. Those two on the left are my brothers, and December was the first time I saw both of them in a year.
Other families, when they get together, take hiking trips or play board games - we, as demonstrated from the above picture, assist one another in taking pictures of a cigarette as it slowly consumes itself.

But that's not all we did this holiday! My brother Aurelien is a singer-songwriter (he goes under the name of Neil Erua) and my brother David is a fantastic photographer and I... I'm always up for anything, so here's what we did:

Hope you like it!

Punxsutawney Wah?

There’s Thanksgiving: which I’m a big fan of because it involves delicious food and warm and gooey i-love-my-family type sentiments.

Then there’s Martin Luther King Day, President’s Day, Memorial Day, Columbus Day, which all exist to commemorate various American historical happenings. 

But I have to say, of all American holidays, Groundhog Day is the one that baffles me the most. 

Now, I have noticed in our Blogspot Statistics that we have a lot of international readers, so I think an explanation is in order:

Groundhog Day, as I understand it, was originated by the Pennsylvania Germans in the 18th century. The holiday consists of waiting for a groundhog to emerge from its burrow and hope that the creature does not see its shadow. If it does, this is a sign (nay, scientific proof) that the winter weather will continue for six more weeks.

This year, Punxsutawney Phil The Groundhog did not see his shadow. "So an early spring it will be!", exclaimed the man in a top hat who apparently speaks groundhog. Well, I hate to be a non-believer in the predictions of rodents, but I beg to differ, Phil:

That's me, under that patch of snow, right there

Oh, Art

I'm back in NYC.
Before coming back here, however, Mom and I spent two days in Paris where we went to Le Louvre and Le Musée D'Orsay.
This is what I found:

I know what you're thinking... this is clear copyright infringement: 

Ah yes, the invention of foie gras:

Think it over... think it oOoOoover

STOP! in the name of love

... before you break my heart.

This is not where I'd chose to rest my head.

The God of symbolism barfed here:

Monty Python, anyone?

Charlotte

Thursday Night Boggle

...the fun continues

Yellery (six letters!)- a place where one yells

Weller - one who constructs wells

Jewy - demonstrating Jewish qualities

A lovely day at JFK

I'm in an airport. I'm supposed to be on my flight, on the way to Denmark, where the train that's supposed to take me to Lund and my house and my boyfriend and the dinner I had mentally planned (salmon!) was.

Little did I know that the plane to Denmark suffered from mechanical errors. I also knew very little about the supposed plan to tell me about this in Atlanta so that I could be rebooked onto a flight to Newark instead of JFK and continue directly from there. What I DO know is that people can be idiots, and that now I have been delayed a full day. I also know that if all goes well I will be on my way to France in a few hours.

I have become very aware of strong negative emotions about airlines. Especially Delta airlines. And Continental. And maybe even KLM. Actually most airlines except for Lufthansa, because they just kind of chill out. I now also know why they have such rigorous security checks. The next time I fly I believe I will pack pressurized substances, dangerous chemicals and weapons specifically to test said controlls, and if they don't stop me I may or may not use the pressurized substances to attack them.  In their faces.

Also Charlotte, I can't believe you like borscht. I mean come on.

It also just struck me that whether you are in France or New York, I am/will be much closer to you physically than usual.

Missing the Fancy Pants

I am back in Marseille, the motherland.
Rather than writing about France, however, I shall be writing about something that is sitting in my pantry in my apartment in New York, the foster motherland.

A few months (yes, months) back, I came across this can of beets.
Now I like beets a lot. In fact, you might say that I'm quite the beet fiend. And borscht too for that matter, but that makes sense since borscht is essentially mashed-up beets.
I know what you're thinking, oh inquisitive reader: "If you like them so much, why haven't you eaten them yet?"
The answer is: I'm just not fancy enough.

Charlotte