I started this blog as a vehicle for My book Fixed: Dope sacks, dye packs and the long welcome back, which has gained a little bit of traction in its short, self-published life. But, what has happened in the interim? In part, a rhetorical question. The whole country got the D.Ts with no cure in sight. But …
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Brain Under Construction
Not since Napoleon have the French administered such a decisive defeat. Today they walloped me. I surrendered in class and laid down my books with a fart and a whimper. Agitated, my muttering bubbled up into a full-on proclamation. I lost my shit, "I CAN"T DO THIS!" The class collectively parked their language skills in …
For What It’s Worth
I know some of you are thinking, will this guy ever write anything useful to me? Probably not, but I will tell this: never put an eggplant in the microwave and never siphon gas with a shop vac. Beyond those two helpful hints, I'm pretty much tapped out, except on the subject of my ongoing adventure, …
I’m in kindergarten, They Can’t Put Me Back
Bonjour, mes amis! It's Douglas—phonetically pronounced Dooglaw—checking in from Paris. Learning a language is très difficile. Now I know what it feels like to be a baby, as it relates to language, that is. I'm learning all the time. I've just received confirmation, that, "vous êtes une chauve-souris," I'm bald as a bat. After looking in the …
Continue reading I’m in kindergarten, They Can’t Put Me Back
Fashion Weak
It's Paris fashion week, I can tell because a member of the Von Trapp family just sauntered by wearing designer lederhosen. Also on display are razor thin, pout stricken models in tattered denim. Unfortunately, the homeless drug addict look is big this year. Excited to participate, I pull out my marino wool Costco socks, hmm, …
Fromage, Take 2
If you want to be hit in the face with an olfactory 2x4, step inside any one of the fromageries sprinkled about Paris. You'll find no aerosol Fromage Whizz in France. Be it sheep (brebis), goat (chèvre) or cow (vache), it's all udderly delicious. I was late to the fondue and have only recently …
Scooter
An endless procession of anaemic scooters, and with the same whiney intensity as weed eaters, take over my street at dusk. Like the little guy with the big mouth who won't shut up. Like me. They aren't going fast, but they are definitely pushing the limits of rotations per minute as demonstrated by the way …
