"I'd invite you back to my place
It's only mine because it holds my suitcase
It looks like home to me alright
But it's a hundred miles from yesterday night"

--The Police

Greetings from Gay Paree...

(That reminds me, has anyone seen Frosty around? No new postings in quite some time.)

First observation: What the fuck is it about Europeans and red tennis shoes? I mean, I realize there's a cultural divide and all that, but Christ...how can a guy look in the mirror, see himself in a yellow shirt, skin-tight denim jeans and bright red sneakers and say, "Damn, I am stylin." Aren't Euros supposed to be the ones on the fashion cusp? Then how do we explain this? And on that basis, do I need to re-visit my stance against the war in Iraq? Seriously: How are you supposed to trust these guys? It was a problem back when I was in Spain, so clearly this is an ongoing crisis. Something must be done.

Second observation: Boss-one and I shared the shuttle ride from the airport to our pad up in St. Denis with some Brits and an Australian.

Demonstrating our "special relationship" with England, Boss-one asked them which would they prefer: Eating a large handful of grass or drinking a cup of blood.

(They went with the grass - that's my choice too.)

So don't worry, diplomatic relations continue to stand firm between our two great nations.

I've been here before, but I forgot just how huge and labyrinthian (that's right, I just used "labyrinthian") and intimidating Paris can be. I think our driver looped around the entire goddamn city before landing at our apartment, just to fuck with us.

Third observation: The women in France. ...the women in France. Good gawd - can I get an Amen.

Fourth observation: I don't know French.

Fifth: Five dollars for a bottle of Evian. No wonder I always end up broke here.

Sixth: Sitting down at one of those sidewalk cafes, Boss-one and I stared at the menu for several minutes, stared at it a little more (See: Observation Four), and then finally ordered a phrase that looked interesting to the eye. 'Turned out to be some sort of peppercorn steak, and it was delicious.

It's all about intuition, bitches.

More to come later, from the americain estupid.