Strange Dream Last Night

I’m going to the swimming pool. The place is empty. As I leave the shower to go towards the pool, I realize a huge insect – almost as big as the pool – is playing the water. It sees me and runs after me to play. As joyful as a dog. I know it’s not going to harm me but I’m annoyed and close the shower door to prevent it from entering. Its long, thin and hairy legs get stuck under the door. I moan.

What’s your theory?

Froggian Slip

For some strange reason, I seem to be an expert at Freudian slips. As if my subconscious took over my mouth and reminded me how foolish I can be/sound sometimes. I really hate those moments, they last for a few seconds but can be served back at you several years later.

 

For example, at the age of 22 I moved to Sweden. A few months after I had moved, I travelled back to France to visit friends and family. One day at a party, I was asked a question by a friend: Why did you move to Sweden? I wanted to answer “because I’ve always wanted to go there and also to get work experience“. Instead I said “because I’ve always wanted to go there and also to get sexual experience“. Unfortunately for me, the latter was the real reason and everybody knew it. My friends from that time still enjoy reminding me of this Freudian slip many years later. At every party, in front of everybody, you can be sure that the story is going to be told. People I didn’t even know asked me once whether I was the famous friend who went to Sweden to get laid…

 

There is another type of Freudian slip. The ones you encounter when you juggle with different languages everyday. Languages that include a good deal of “false friends” ie words that sound the same but do not mean the same thing, French and English being the epitomy of such concept. This morning, for example, I arrived late at a meeting with two English-speaking colleagues. I entered the office and quickly apologized for being late (en retard) by saying how sorry I was for being so retarded.

 

Finally, you have the situation slips. The things that you can only say to your friends and family but that come out when you talk to someone you don’t know in a rather formal situation. For example, when I was a teenager, I would frequently call my teachers “Mom” or “Dad”, quite an embarrassing situation when you are a teenager although I know it often happened to other classmates. But when you start calling your boyfriend “Mom” then things start to get worrying.

 

Or the day I called the tax office, ended the conversation with a dry civil servant with an automatic and natural “bisous à bientôt”, hung up and died.

Hard & Highly Chemical Drugs, please. (sciatica week 3)

– Honestly, do you know what sciatica is? I ask, looking at her, showing with my eyes that I know she’s going to say something stupid. I feel safe patronizing her as she is the apartment building’s official racist bitch.

–It’s like diarrhoea, isn’t it? She answers, waving something away with her hand as if something smelled really bad. Did you catch it in Africa?

I’m in the stairwell, talking to my first floor neighbor. I’m struggling to climb the stairs, walking like a duck. She is at least 125 years old and should know what sciatica is. Don’t all old people suffer from it? I smile politely and tell her that I’d be walking up the stairs much more quickly if it were diarrhoea.

But why do I bother to talk to people about my killing sciatica when everybody has a different suggestion on how to cure it?

– You should go to a physiotherapist, said C yesterday. I know the best one in Paris. He hardly touches you, he just looks at you and talks to you. To that I answer that it sounds great but I’d be better out with some very hard & highly chemical drugs instead.

– You should go to my Kiné, said K an hour later. He manipulates you in all directions, then you leave feeling like it hurts even more but 4 days later you get better. To that I answer that it sounds great but I’d be better out with some very hard & highly chemical drugs instead.

– No, the only thing that works is a Magnétiseur, said H. He uses all sorts of magnets and finds the source of the pain. It works wonders. It’s the only thing that works against sciatica. To that I answer that it sounds great but I’d be better out with some very hard & highly chemical drugs instead.

– No need to look for the source of the pain. Said J. As it’s all in your head. If you decide to get better, you will. Try instead to look for the real reason why you are in pain. What were you trying to escape when it happened? To that I answer that it sounds great but I’d be better out with some very hard & highly chemical drugs instead.

Now, I’m surrounded by friends and they all have a theory while I am stretching in the sofa. For lifting my leg up is the only position that relieves the pain. But as you can see in the picture below, I can’t possibly be taken seriously when looking like this. I still don’t know what I should do or what kind of doctor I should see. But I’m sure you all have a theory about that. Let us hear it then. In the meantime, as I can’t stretch my right leg like this at work, I’ll be suffering in silence, begging for hard & very chemical drugs.

UPDATE: thank you all for the precious advice left in the comment box! 

Two Words Only

Yesterday I met the most incredible clown midget while I (vast cathartic) I felt feline experience who gave me a resounding spanking on my seldom revealed nether regions. Meanwhile, a frog prince accompanied by his lover, who licked. Suddenly, I blinked hard *chemical reaction*. Licked Frog. Sorry officer.

Irresistible urge to masticate, to urinate, belch & break wind before running quickly to the closest telephone booth where I farted wetly (rédhibitoire penguin) sandpapering my fingertips, because they were being eaten by babies, fluorescent tadpoles. No! We, the last cowboy standing, erect and shaking his tickling stick shining through, couldn’t possibly…

(sorry guys, but I have too much work and I don’t have time to finish this post. Why don’t you finish it for me and add two words each, in the comment box, I’ll add your suggestions to the text gradually. Not more than two words, those are the rules, although you can participate as many times as you wish. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow).

Update: Oh God, is that what my posts usually sound like?

Update 2: Can you guys get any sicker?

F***!

 

 

Teaser 1

Valentine’s Day = VD?

Am I the only one who didn’t wish you all a happy Vday?

It’s been proven by some very serious scientists in America (have you noticed how all serious scientists are always Americans?). People are so desperate to get laid today, that they’d be ready to do it with anyone.

It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful though.

I wouldn’t want to wish you a happy Venerial Disease Day either…

I must be pregnant or something

I think I have a new neighbor who must be a chef or something, the food he/she prepares in the evenings when I get back home smells heavenly. From inside my apartment I can still smell it. I just have to get to know this neighbor and somehow get invited over for dinner. Actually, as I got home tonight, it seemed like all my neighbors were cooking as each floor smelled of a different dish. I’m so self-absorbed that I even thought, they must be preparing a special neighbor surprise party for me or something.

I know, I must be pregnant or something.

As far as my apartment is concerned, I don’t really know what’s happening but this smell of humidity is widespread and really disturbing. My curtains smell like smoke and so do books when I open them. I don’t know what’s happening to me but I’m becoming so sensitive to smells.

Gee, I must be pregnant or something.

I get cravings for sushi and melon jello, and also Thai red curry and turkey with apples and there’s more… I was sick so recently and am so healthy suddenly. I am already so hungry all the time.

It’s clear, I must be pregnant or something.

My belly is growing fast and its round shape worries me. How long will it take before people start noticing?

Yes, I must be pregnant or something.

I laugh out loud although I’m restless and this sudden energy overwhelms me as I don’t need to pause between floors as I walk up the stairs. How is that possible? I was so sick just last week.

Good Lord, I must have quit smoking or something!

Stalkers

Just tell me who you are. You have nothing to fear. I love stalkers.

Fears Unplugged

Where’s the camera?

The ever so misunderstood movie star that I am always looks for the light and the camera. Whichever instance in life, I believe that secretly I am being filmed. I promise. Some people would call it self-absorbness, others would say I suffer from severe paranoia, I say, you can never know when this big shot movie maker is going to find you and turn you into a movie star without you making a single effort. While many French people moan at the more and more widespread control cameras all over town, you’ll find me charmingly smiling at them, casually striking a Clint Eastwood pose in front of them. Just in case.

The other day as I was doing some very last minute Christmas shopping, I decided to go to a large DIY store in order to buy something for my DIY-expert brother in law.

The store is so big and as most things and tools there are completely unknown to me, I thought I’d ask a little shopping assistant to help me find a good present.

Do you also decide which sales-clerk you’re going to be asking your questions to? How do you choose them? Not too young? Not too blonde? I always go for the one who’ll look bitter. They are always the ones who know best and they are bitter because everyone asks them questions all the time. They feel they work much more than their colleagues and that they could’ve done something better in life, as they are smarter but therefore bitter.

So I chose my prey. A 55 year old man who walked quickly and looked desperate enough to be the smart screwdriver in the toolbox.

Me: Hello, You see, I’m looking for a nice little present for my brother in law. He’s very good at DIY and he already owns all possible tools. You know, I need something original, something one would not necessarily buy for oneself, but still would be happy to own.

Him: (looking at me, thinking “too much information”) All-right, what is your budget?

Me: Er… 50 euros approximately (thinking 30).

Him: The cheapest thing in my department is a radiator for 300€. Go ask that guy there instead.

(as he’s pointing at a short bald guy, he starts shouting) Jacques! Help this guy, who wants to buy a present.

Jacques: A present for me?

Me: yes of course, I’ve just met you and I really want to buy you a present… (thinking humor and Christmas shopping rush don’t go together)

Jacques: Well, for 50€, you can have one third of a chainsaw.

Me: ha ha, that is very funny…

Jacques: We also have nice lamps.

Me: No he’s not into decorating as much as he is into DIY you see.

Jacques: So buy him a book about Islam. He’ll like it.

Me: (…)

Jacques: Or a cook book. Cook books are fun.

Me: Oh I get it! You are totally pulling my leg, aren’t you? Now where’s the camera?

Jacques: Sorry, we don’t sell cameras.

 

Who knew they had such books in DIY stores. I fixed my hair, took my butchest walk, bought a cook book and left.

Blogging & Existentialism

My main life concern during the past few days has been whether I shoud have one or two sidebars on my blog. I mean, let’s face it, the sidebar is the essence of of a good blog, it shows how popular one is, how many friends one has and how many page views one gets everyday. In order to avoid the pressure and focus on something else in life, I decided to get rid of my sidebar.

It does feel scary but I should be ok.

I have issues.