how to look incredibly un-french and other pieces from a carefree friday

salut les pote!

(that translates to something like "hi-ya folks!" in english).
I would never actually walk up to a group of French people and say that (a second time anyway....).

Re-cap of the week time! I worked 12 hour days both Wednesday and Thursday taking care of 3 children, with occasional visits from their friends. Needless today.... je suis très fatigue. But my boss is incredibly kind, and gave me Friday off. Merci beaucoup! Friday was spent sleeping in until a well deserved 12:30. The only reason I actually woke up was because I was staying at my boyfriends, and he had class at 13h. Otherwise I think we both could have continued sleeping straight through to the next day. It's winter, it's our natural instinct to hibernate, no? I went to Rue de Rivoli to search for some possible Christmas gifts to bring back to Canada for Christmas, but didn't have a lot of luck. I did however by a scarf for my mom (and a pre-christmas gift scarf for myself, it is warm, wooly, navy blue and plaid; my favourite things). And guess who I passed while walking down the street!? Starbucks, looking all tempting and full of chai tea lattes. So of course I entered, and bought one for myself. Even after my craving earlier in the week with the cupcakes I had no time to splurge on one, so this one tasted even more beautiful. It was Christmas in my mouth. Spicy, warm and exactly what I needed. Most of the tables were full, so I said to myself, no worries, I will take this cup of cosy with me while running my errands. This was a mistake. Never have I received so many anti-tourist glares from Parisiens. Never. Even on my trotinette, even speaking English loudly with my friends on the metro, even hanging out with a group of French people and foring them to speak English because my French was so terrible! Even then, it was accepted. But walking down the streets of Paris with a to-go coffee on hand, that is unacceptable. The French are so keen on sipping away on their coffees for hours, or atleast downing their espresso at the bar. They even carry around meter long baguettes, carelessly taking bites off the end of it. And these things are both completely acceptable? But not my coffee carrying? Maybe they were even more offended because I was dressed quite Parisien that day.
In the end, I didn't care, I happily sipped my coffee all the way from boulevard Sebastopol almost to Place Concorde.

It was a pleasent afternoon, really.

Later that evening I went out for some drinks and dinner with my boyfriend and his 6 other friends. It was actually a very enjoyable night, me being the only girl amongst 6 French guys. The night began at Chez George for a few glasses of wine. We then migrated a few streets away to El sol et Luna, a Mexican restuarant where I had an avacado quasadila and we all shared pitchers of margarita. After dinner we then found ourselves at a cosy bar with French musicians singing classic English music.... their adorable French accents singing anything from Radiohead to Pink Floyd. At this bar we switched to beer.
It was a very fun night, and I spoke French almost the entire time!! The night began at 6:30 and we didn't arrive home until after 2.
This morning when I woke up my stomach was quite disappointed with me for the assortment of foods and drinks I consumed that past night: wine, quasadila, margarita, beer.