**Was meant to be posted a few weeks ago..sorry!**
Thank god it's almost over. The last few weeks have been awful. And stressful. My apartment is a proper mess and I have been eating monstrosities like chips, cookies, ramen noodles, red bulls, and coca light..apparently I have reverted to being an 18-year-old college freshman again. Except for the coke light thing, it's a real 26-year-old problem.
(muttered) you polluting hag?" Instead, I walk by stone-faced with my head up because that's the nice thing to do. (I don't use transparent bags anymore to avoid this problem, what level of addiction is this?)
Back from the coke tangent. I had a week of classes right after break, followed by two weeks of finals, including two big assignments--in the same class. How rude. Good thing the professor has a lovely blond beard or I'd give him a piece of my mind! Ha. Anyway, in addition to school being beyond stressful (because I like this program about 739 time more than last year's and thus care), I somehow managed to drop my card wallet while on my bicycle. So I lost my citybike pass, my metro pass, library card, etc. All ridiculously important to me because I use them so much. (Luckily my bank cards and other important ones were in my wallet.) In the few days it took me to get these new cards, of COURSE I got controlled on the metro for not composting my ticket. I go to a uni that would be considered by some as a bit sketchy..people jump all the time. Er..not even jump. Just pass through behind someone else. So I decided to join this wagon, you know, to economize a little bit. ONE TIME, PEOPLE. And naturally I get caught. The worst part is that I actually had my passport on me that day. Just happened to have it with me, OF COURSE. So he could see the multiple visas I've had here, plus I am epically bad at pretending I don't understand French. My face always gives it away. So I couldn't be like "ohh..excusez-moi, m'seer..je ne speak pas French...I am..euh..american girl here..I have a defunct blockbuster card, is that d'accord for ID?" The man said I had a pretty smile so he "only" gave me a 50€ fine. Merci, monsieur, merci.
Anyway, last week was better, although still stressful. I was so flipping busy last week. The Great Dane turned the big 2-1, so I went out with her a few nights, including here :
Yes, you saw correctly. I ate at the Jules Verne restaurant atop the Eiffel Tower. (Okay, well on the 1st floor but atop does sound cooler, admit it. I rarely get to even utter this phrase, just let me have it.) Malia's godparents live in Paris, but they're American. The mother works at the classy private American hospital, read: they could afford to take us out. Malia, her Swedish friend that was in town visiting and I were invited. We had a delicious three-course meal, with wine, bien sûr. I can say with certainty that it is the classiest dinner I've ever had. Yet. Naturally I will dine at more exotic and less touristy places when I have the means. Give me a couple decades.