I'm an idiot?!

From my good friend... http://dizzypixel.tumblr.com/post/57164052/paris-blows-says-the-idiot

Paris Blows - says the idiot.

• Idiot: so what stories do you have Mr. World Traveler?
• Idiot: make it home with your cameras?
• Idiot: get the new mac book?
• Me: i did
• Me: no new macs
• Me: and no new stories
• Me: just exploring Paris
• Idiot: did you find any place that doesn't suck?
• Idiot: didja get a "Royal avec fromage"?
• Idiot: didja miss my incessent questions?
• Me: lol
• Idiot: does that mean "no"?
• Me: i love paris
• Me: everything about it
• Me: i wanna move there
• Idiot: uck
• Me: but no no mcee dees
• Idiot: you can have it
• Idiot: McD's was one of the highlights
• Me: actually knowing you dislike it so much makes me love it more!
• Idiot: well good
• Idiot: Paris in March blew hard
• Me: you and Brandon dislike the French so much
• Me: thats a good sign for me
• Idiot: yes, but maybe not
• Idiot: PARIS BLOWS
• Me: wow, really?
• Idiot: good place to go... ONCE

I went to Paris in March of 2000. It was rainy, drizzly, the WHOLE time there. And what should you expect in March?
Well let me tell you, I don't think the dog crap is seasonal. The Parisians walk their chiens and they crap on the sidewalk. They don't pick up after them. So in the rain and drizzle the sidewalks are littering sitting in poop soup.

Now let's talk about rude. I took two years of high school french. I know I am not fluent. I am not an expert, but I can "Ou est les toillettes?" with the best of them.

We're trekking from Le Tour Eiffel up Le Champs Elysees and we're looking for the subway station at Franklin D Roosevelt. We're tired after mucking about the fecal fountain of Paris all day and want to get back to our hotel. Did I say hotel? The place was a 4 star dump. I don't remember what we paid for the craphole, and I don't want to. At this point it'd only fuel the fire.

So anyway we tromp down the stairs to the ticket counter for the subway.
First I try the old "Parlez vous anglais?"
"Non"
"Ou est FRANKLIN D ROOSEVELT?"
"Je ne comprends pas."
I pick up the map, and hold it so that they can see.
"Ou est FRANKLIN D ROOSEVELT?" and I point at the Franklin D Roosevelt station.
"Je ne comprends pas."
There's been a line forming of freaking frenchies, and they are not happy that the fat dumb americans are holding up the file d'attente.

So after a minute of pointing and saying "Ou est?" to not only the idiot at the window, but the line that formed, we left. Hoofed it back up the stairs to the street.

One block away, I found the correct damn station. We bought our tokens, got on our train. And got back to the shithole hotel we stayed at.

My one redeeming moment in fucking Paris was our trip to the Louvre, where I noticed a McDonald's across the street.
"THAT is where we are going to lunch today!" I announce.
"No Bubba," Shelle says, "We didn't come all the way to Paris to eat at McDonald's."
"THAT is where we are going to lunch today."

So we zip through the Louvre. And when we leave, I beeline towards the Golden Arches. The others are on my heels. They can't beleive my determination.
I walked through the open door, up to the counter and ordered,
"ROYALE WITH CHEESE!"

Tots

So a few of us from work are heading to a vendor's place yesterday. But first we go to lunch with Justin, the reseller.

For a change of pace I get tater tots instead of fries with lunch. And the jokes start going around.
"Can I have some of your tots?"
"Nooooo! GOSH!"
etc.

Someone says that I should pack away some tots for the presentation at the vendor.
Justin likes this idea, "I've got 5 bucks if you can eat them during the presentation with a straight face."
I know there is no way I can keep a straight face doing it, and I say so. "But that's not to say, I'm not going to try."

We get to the vendor, and are conducted to a large conference room. We're a little bit into the presentation when they start passing around a basket of cookies. I pass the basket and take the opportunity to pull the tots from my pocket.

So Justin can see, I swivel, and push back a foot or so. I eat the four tots, and manage only to smile slightly. Pete is stifling a laugh, and Joe has to turn completely away from me. I can see his shoulders shaking as he giggles. As I finish the tots, it's pretty apparent that the guys are cracking up, and the presenter stops.

"Something pretty funny must be going on."
I turn to Justin, "That's five, baby. FIVE!"
He gets up from his chair, walks over, and lays the $5 bill on the table in front of me.
Amidst the laughter, I can hear him explaining the bet to the vendor.

Showing that he's a good sport, Larry, the sales guy, when asked if he would like a cookie answered, "No, but if there's any tater tots left..."