Jesus Walks

I was fortunate enough to go to Paris with my lady friends earlier this year. It was as dreamy and romantic as I imagined, but we tackled the city at this impossibly break-neck pace that left us shattered from exhaustion. I mean, destroyed. On our final day, we woke up, dragged ourselves downstairs for breakfast, then crawled back upstairs for a post-breakfast nap (a real low-point in my life). Somehow, we mustered the energy to go out where we were forced to sit several times inside the Louvre before coming home and taking a substantial pre-nap dinner.

What caused this madness? Maybe the drinking, maybe our ambition, or maybe the Jesus Walks. Yes, everyone lies about Paris. You'll arrive at your Metro stop only to learn that you'll need to walk several city blocks underground. Hey Liars! Then that's not where the stop is. In some stations, they have those moving sidewalks like they do at the airport, except underground.

Regardless, hilarity ensued as we trekked through the city. Always, always walking far farther then we expected.

My little Rach-Face.

I die for these colored ouef containers. Also, my favorite french word is 'ouef'.

Rach, I love this photo. Great perspective.

My dreams look like this. No joke. Paris looks so ethereal.


Obligatory. Let me tell you about the men who are selling shit under the Eiffel Tower and who said to me "Jiggy-jiggy sex?" I had no idea how to respond, so we laughed and quickly walked away.

Pure, unadulterated happiness. Until the moment the door opened which was pure, unadulterated panic and sent me running away to hide.

This is how I remember the Louvre.

Let's please, please discuss these pants. They are fanTAStic.


Kevin Costner in concert? Strangest thing I've ever seen.

This is the view my poor roommates had for days.