Better be Thursday.

Snapshot no. 456

Yesterday I made a new attempt at getting that ever so alluring job at Soup & Juice. I called. I spoke. In French.

It all went well until, once again, my French skills were brought up. All the while I thought I was being complimented. I think it went something like this:

"How is your French coming along?"

"Thank you!"

"Um... It's ok?"

"It's ok. It's working."

We said goodbye shortly after this, but, after less than an hour, he called back and I, Mousse the Slick, now have a real-life job interview on Thursday. Or so I believe.

Snapshot no. 3901

"EEEEEEEEEK WHAAAAAAAAAAA WHAAAAAAA EEEEEEEK OH MY GAAAAAWD!!!"

- Marty, after having had sex. With me. Mousse the Slick.

Ugh. Sorry, all non-readers.

For real this time:

- Marty, today, after having called a man about a job and, despite terrible French mixed with giggling and confusion, gotten a rendez-vous. Also on Thursday.

.

Snapshot no. 15

.

"You're peeing right now, aren't you?"

-Mousse, to Marty, sitting next to her, eating dinner.

Snapshot no. 53

Parisian traffic is confusing. Especially crossing streets. Apparently.

"Help!"

Alone and miserable, Marty stands frozen on the sidewalk, trying to think of a way to cross the street, while Mousse, standing in the middle of the street, in front of a car whose driver is waving for us to cross, waving encouragingly to Marty and using her sweetest voice:

"Come now, Marty, you can do this! Come on, honey! Yes, yes! YES"

"Victory's mine!"