This is not stupid

Well...actually it is a bit, kind of.
Went out last night with the Manue for some quickie action in the L'ile Saint Denis, suburb of Paris. It was stupid cold last night, so walking was shitty, especially over the bridge where icy wind turned yours truly's haircut into flippy flop washed out mohican do. Headed off to the Dude's 'cause he was having a make-up dinner.

Make up for what, you ask? Well, since I've been abstaining from blogging, due to personal reasons, I haven't told you about last friday's mysteriously boring turn of events. All the girls were invited for a dinner at the Dude's, and, for some reason or another, all the girls didn't show up. Scoobs said she was tired, and she did look like a bag of rags, Queenie was on a rage, Manue was busy making fake IDs, Jules was cleaning her toilet, and I was just scared of taking the RER by myself. So we suck and that was it.

Later in the night, we miraculously transformed to party panthers and attacked the dancefloor at what was one of the most boring techno parties ever, at VooDoo. I got only one word for what went on over there: LAME. I don't think Queenie ever recovered from eating too much roast-chicken potato chips anyways. Also, at Voodoo was this weirdo, and I mean serious bail-breaker weirdo who tried to grab me and then stalked me around the dance floor all night. Luckily Manue did funny over-ecstatic dance to a mediocre techno buildup, and managed to bounce his ass outta there.

Anyways, back to the dinner party this week. So we're on our way and who should we run into but Mags, ex-girlfriend of the guy who made me life very entertaining in September. You remember the story, crazy Pashmengas and some guy freaking out and leaving me at Republique in the middle of the night. That's him. He was nice, then really nice, then too nice, and then the cold water came, then not too nice, bad SMSs, very sordid really. At that time, he was still dating Mags! And, after a couple of crazy run-ins with the two of them, where Antarctica seemed fucking warm, I guessed the what the relationship actually was. Jeez, somehow the french code of the "drag" (automatic flirt response)seems contradictory with other moral code of absolute fidelity. How the two manage to be compatible in France leads me to think that there is a mysterious and powerful core to Catholicism.

Yo, so seeing Mags is tantamount to wearing a winter jacket all night long. But, surprise surprise, she gives me a bisous, and SMILES?! Still, things remain frosty, all night long, and I notice her ignoring several of my questions and comments. The bisous were probably perfunctory. Gosh, why in the hell do people go through all that trouble to kiss you twice on the cheeks if really they don't give a damn. Makes me feel sad about kissing. But, I have to hand it to Mags, she's a classy gal who takes things in stride. And, she was funny, laughed, and did have an unbearable cute grin. Wished things never got stupid with her. Ah well. Such is life... roll with the punches. Anyways, from what she said, she's not seeing him anymore. Claims it's changed her life in a really great and surprising way. It's true, she looks a helluva lot better, less mouse-like. Still, I get packaged with the nasty baggage of her breakup, I presume.

.....So, I digress, the Dude made Cassoulet for dinner. That's beans with preserved duck and sausage. Sounds gross? SHUT UP! It's french! Well, it was ok...not spectacular, but definitely delicious. But, he also made brandade de morue, cod smashed milk and olive oil...and goddam, I want the recipe. It was formidable!

What else to say, got stupidly drunk, smoked copious amounts of stuff, did an impromptu version of "Love is in the Air" in a very cold lobby completely covered in puke-green painted concrete, endured some very pretentious talk about computer music (yawn) and the value of the "geste" (double yawn) in making music, and impromptu fashion show with caps from the Dude's collection (for fuck's sakes, he has a fluorescent green poor-boy's cap to go with his Simpson's yarmulka). Come to think of it, the Dude is the only guy I know who has a collection of yarmulkas...he's not Jewish either. He has the hulk, the simpsons, nike swoosh... By the way, did you know that those yarmulka's have the same kind of padding as padded bras? Me neither.