Don't Harsh my Yellow

Remember that David Sedaris book where he writes about going to flea markets in Paris and being able to buy human skulls and alligator fetuses? Well Saint-Ouen's not really like that. More like a lot of postcards, Johnny Hallyday records, and t-shirts that say "Ma Banilieue." I did find out though that, in France, Short Circuit 2 was called Applez-moi Johnny 5 . 

Anyway, traveling solo has its ups and downs. I'm not accountable to anyone and can do or not do whatever I want. On the way to Colette (so gross) I was a block away from the Louvre and didn't even entertain the notion of going in and I bet you a million dollars that if I was with someone else we'd be like "Should we go? I don't know, should we?" for twenty minutes and then freak out about if we were ruining each other's France experience. 

Plus, I really do just love hanging out in my canary yellow hotel room at Residence des Gobelins and watching Ulysses 31 reruns and The Enforcer in German. 

Had the worst butter chicken of my life today. The worst.