April in Paris, continued.
Today was pretty damn low key. I spent some time writing this morning (including posting on this blog some related but hopefully not too overlapping information. I've decided to keep those posts classy and literary, and these posts here kinda low-rent and barrelhousey. As JMP would say: That's how I roll.
Luckily for me, though unluckily for my post here, nothing too low-rent happened to me today. Though I forgot to mention that yesterday when I got a little confused in the confusion of the confusing metro, I managed to wander down a street that had a bunch (like, 20 or thereabouts) of old French whores hanging out in doorways trying to lure johns. I've always made the comment about myself that I tend to dress and wear makeup like a French whore. You know, my tops are generally a little too low-cut, and my lipstick is about 8 shades too red. Well after walking through a gaggle of salopes, I can now safely and without hesitation tell you that now that I know what a French whore looks like, I still say I kinda dress like one.
I got a new camera today, so there will be photos eventually.
1 comment:
you may be a french whore, but you're a grand one. you're the heidi fleiss of parisian hookers, i tell you.
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