Petite Confessions, Vicki Lesage [the best books to read .txt] 📗
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- Author: Vicki Lesage
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Book online «Petite Confessions, Vicki Lesage [the best books to read .txt] 📗». Author Vicki Lesage
“… very important to do what your doctor says. Understand?”
I nodded numbly, then took me and my out-of-shape goods back to my desk. The keyboard clatter resumed, and the redness in my cheeks slowly drained away.
Welcome back to work, where your business is everyone’s business. Even the French government’s.
Lemon Cake
What’s sweet? Your new bundle of joy. What sours it all? Your boss’s dad asking how your recovery down there is going. What better than a sweet and sour shot to take your mind off things (and quickly)!
1 oz. vanilla vodka
1 oz. sour mix
sugar
1. Wet the rim of a shot glass, then coat with sugar.
2. Pour vodka and sour mix into a martini shaker with ice. Shake well, then strain into the shot glass.
3. Shoot it, and put the awkward conversation out of your mind as quickly as possible.
Makes 1 serving
Petite Living
I don’t always take the trash out in my socks, but when I do, you can bet I’ll run into all my neighbors.
16
“That’s a hot outfit. It’d look better crumpled up at the foot of my bed.”
Barf! Fortunately, I haven’t been the recipient of too many cheesy pick-up lines, at least not stateside. Before moving to Paris, I didn’t spend much time single. I dated my college boyfriend for four years, and moved to France soon after our break-up.
French men, however, are an entirely different story.
They’re not crass like some of the American guys I’ve encountered, but they make me cringe all the same. I just don’t do typical romance. Poetry? Gag. Lengthy discourse about how beautiful my eyes are? There are only so many ways (I’m interested in hearing about) to say “green.” Can’t a girl just have a night out with her friends?
Maybe I’m being too harsh. You decide:
After kissing one dude (I blame the wine for even letting me get that far), he groped my butt then said, “My hand discovered a land I would love to explore.”
He wanted to explore my ass? No thanks!
Another time, after being duped into going back to a guy’s apartment for a “party” (again, I blame the wine for me not noticing that none of his friends were following us), this guy wrote a sappy note in a tattered copy of Le Petit Prince, signed it, then handed it over with strict instructions for me to read the book ASAP so we could discuss it on a future date.
Like homework? Not interested. Also, we were SO not going on any future dates. Any guy who tries to trick me to get me alone completely loses my trust (once I realize that’s what happened, of course).
Luckily, Guillaume Shakespeare had written his love note in pencil so I was able to erase it and donate the book to charity.
“Hey, you! Girl with a smile! Would you like to have a coffee with me?”
This was shouted to me one time in the pouring rain as I was struggling with numerous shopping bags. Of course, this “gentleman” didn’t bother to help with my bags as he strode alongside me. He only offered to buy me a €1 espresso.
That was extremely kind of him (one whole euro!) but I had plenty of coffee at home.
“I’m so lonely,” one guy whined to me on a cold, rainy night. I could practically hear sad violins playing in the distance. “My girlfriend doesn’t pay attention to me anymore.”
Girlfriend? I was out of there before the crocodile tear rolled off his cheating cheek.
“I had a great time tonight but I have to head home so I can help my friend move early tomorrow morning. Can I take you out on a date tomorrow afternoon?”
Wait, what’s wrong with this one? Nothing! That’s what my future French husband said to me the night we met, in a bar nonetheless. No groping, no trying to get in my pants, no stubborn persistence. Just a nice, respectful end to a lively evening.
The rest, as they say, is history.
So what lesson did I learn?
The more wine you drink, the less cheesy the pick-up lines sound. And the harder it is to tell the sleazebags from the chivalrous knights. Oh, and usually the knights don’t need a pick-up line, and certainly not loaded with cheese. Their genuine smile will get them pretty damn far.
Mind Eraser
After one too many sleazeballs hits on your badass self, you’ll want to wash away all the icky memories. This is just the shot for you.
1 oz. vodka
1 oz. coffee liqueur
1 oz. tonic water
1. Pour all ingredients into martini shaker. Add ice and shake.
2. Strain into a large shot glass.
3. Shoot it quickly, and proceed to forget about every sleazy pick-up line you ever heard, leaving you open to meet the love of your life.
Makes 1 serving
17
Movies and books tend to paint Paris as a lovely tableau of historical monuments, aromatic wine, and romantic scenery. The City of Light is full of life and love. It’s a dream come true.
Until those few snarky commentaries slip through and show us what it’s really like to live in the French capital.
Overall, living in Paris is worth it, despite the infuriating government workers and the Métro smelling like urine.
I’ve lived in Paris for over 10 years. And I’ve had extensive dental work—pulled 13 baby teeth, replaced my two front teeth twice, suffered through root canals, and donned braces, appliances, and pretty much every other dental gadget that exists.
So if anyone can bring these two topics together into the world’s weirdest list, it’s me.
Without further ado, here is a comparison between real life in Paris and dental work:
1. It’s Expensive
Paris: A 30-square-meter (323 square feet) apartment will set us back at least €1,000 per month ($1,350). We’ll consider ourselves lucky if the bathroom is in the apartment (as opposed to the hallway of the building) and we have a functioning stove.
Dental Work: Routine check-ups are affordable, but as soon as we start filling cavities, making crowns, and having root canals, we’re quickly in the thousands. And when we submit our insurance claims, we hear silence, except for a few crickets chirping in the distance.
2. It’s Frustrating
Paris: We arrive at our visa renewal appointment with all 10 items specified on the Official Visa Renewal Documentation List, only to be met with “What about [item that wasn’t on the list]? Pfff. Come back when you’re prepared.” You mean, come back when we’ve learned how to read minds? So now we have to file for an extension and suffer through another appointment.
Dental Work: “So how was your vacation?” “Garg… fleurg.” “Please hold your mouth still while I’m doing this.” Then why did you ask, nimwit?
3. It Hurts
Paris: We attempt to pay for a €12 taxi ride with a €20 bill, only to have the cabbie launch into a tirade about how “you people” never have change and “you people” always expect him to make change. It’s not like “we people” flagged him down in the street and asked him for change for a vending machine. “We people” are paying for a service rendered and are rightfully expecting change. Why is he yelling at us?
Dental Work: Fewer drills were used to build the Eiffel Tower than the dentist has used on our mouths, and we’re only five minutes into the appointment. Not to mention the lingering pain we’ll feel after the appointment is over.
4. We Experience a Wide Array of Unusual Tastes
Paris: Escargots are better than we thought (mainly because they’re drowned in a butter garlic sauce) but some things will always seem a bit odd to the non-French taste-tester—like kidneys and cow tongue and bone marrow. Thankfully we can wash it all down with a delicious glass of wine.
Dental Work: The dentist thinks he sucked out all the saliva from our mouths so he gives us permission to swallow, and we are met with the taste of cement and blood. Yuck. But if we’re lucky he’ll give us cherry fluoride to rinse it out with!
5. We Experience a Wide Array of Unusual Smells
Paris: From the homeless man urinating in the Métro to a yappy poodle pooping in the street, our nostrils will be assaulted with many unpleasant smells. But we’ll also enjoy the unique aroma of pungent Roquefort that’s been aged in a regional French cave. And it will be paired with full-bodied red Bordeaux to bring out the best flavors of the cheese.
Dental Work: The drill whirrs and we convince ourselves this is a trained medical professional who knows what he’s doing. But that slightly burnt odor is still unnerving. Why does dental work smell like something’s on fire? Even the fruity rinse he provides afterward isn’t strong enough to overtake the smoky aroma.
6. We Keep Putting It Off
Paris: It’s been a lifelong dream to visit Paris, or maybe we even envision settling in for a prolonged stay. But we haven’t quite gotten around to it yet. We need to take time off work. The flight is long and pricey. We want to finish x, y, and z first. There’s always something getting in the way of us and our fairytale destination.
Dental Work: We go in for a check-up and after a routine exam the doctor delivers the verdict—we need to fill three cavities and have two root canals. Yikes. We need to take time off work. The procedure is long and pricey. We want to finish x, y, and z first. There’s always something getting in the way of us and our torturous appointment.
7. We Have to Wait
Paris: Everywhere we go, there’s a line. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise since Paris hosts millions of visitors per year, and that’s on top of the millions of residents populating the city. From Notre-Dame to the local bakery, we’re stuck behind slow-moving people who take forever to complete their transactions. At least we’re likely to enjoy whatever is at the end of the line (world-famous view, world-famous pastries).
Dental Work: We’ll be stuck in the drab waiting room, dreading what’s about to happen on the other side of the door. We’ll flip through the torn pages of old magazines, bored out of our minds. Part of us will just want to get this over with and part of us will be happy we can put it off a little longer. Nothing good waits for us at the dentist’s office, except for the fact that this will all be over soon.
8. We Have to Fill out a Bunch of Forms
Paris: If we’re visiting, sometimes we’ll luck out and border control will give us quick stamps in our passports and wave us through. But if we’re staying for an extended period of time (somehow I’m still here 10 years later, so watch out—it can happen!) we’ll have to apply for a visa. Which involves a yearly renewal process of 848 pieces of paper (originals) plus 848 photocopies. The forests of the world weep as we prepare our dossier. We
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