Hey dulcet darlings

My god, it's good to be back here. I realize now alot of my rush to get away from Paris last time was, you know, boy related. But man, it's good to be back! Yesterday I met up with Miss M for mussels and gossip and beer, and then had another little nap, and then went up to Bastille for beer and Pernod and gossip and heated political discussion. I missed my people here too - of course, I acknowledge that only one or two of them are actually French - but who the fuck cares. There's a little party for me tonight. You know how much that tickles me? Alot. But first there's a lunch outing to gorge on oysters and foie gras and sweet, heavy white wine at Miss P's and my favourite oyster bar

The food, bitches, the food - I got in some groceries and they are so yummy. Eggs and vegetables taste different here, sooooo much better. FEB used to fuss about that in terms of Canadian food, which gave me the shits, but the little bastard was right. Our standards in Canada suck. We could be asking for so much more! And the cheese, the stinky-ass unpasteurized cheese - holy fucking icon - so fucking good. Mr. H was right about how it's a crying fucking shame in Canada unpasteurized milk products are so hard to come by. That's bullshit, bitches. That's pure bullshit! Pure fucking bullshit! Write a letter to your fucking MP, because I'm telling you if things don't change I'm moving back here. Not to Paris itself - not unless the possibility came with a massive fucking paycheque that would let me have an apartmet like Miss C's - god, this place is beautiful.

AHHHHHHH!

HOW DID LIFE GET ALL THIS GOOD ALL THIS FAST?

Oh, Lady, I meant to mention, Stéphane Rousseau did a five minute bit about how much he hates fruit.