let lemons be angry

French is funny. It's worth the late dinner and sleepy wait because of all the laughs I get out of it. With our limited vocabulary, my conversation partner and I manage to come up with brilliant and bizarre scenarios to make us look like linguistic superstars. So far we've made Britney Spears meet Monet and Rodin in a museum, and we've had a journalist interview the diva of French language videos, Dominique Marie. Let me tell you about Dominique Marie. She's unmarried and pessimistic, and refuses to accept her office in the "New Colleague" video because it has no window, even though it has air-conditioning and even though she's just a new employee. In her words (translated), she exclaims, "Ah no, I cannot have an office without a window, me!" and walks off, away from the nice man who's been showing her around.

In our self-written "star interview" exercise, Dominique Marie goes on to say that she likes pretty boys. "I am belle, I am a femme fatale," she declares.
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Where fish are concerned, two of the original cool unfishy fish have died, but five more have replaced it. There's now a lamp over the tank, a water filter, and a valve to make the air pump less violent. We also tore away half the plants because fish were getting stuck between the leaves and the glass. One tiny fish has been missing though, and my father wants to dissect the larger guppy when it dies to see if it was eaten (simple father I have). The tank is about the size of a small laptop screen, so I can't imagine why the fish disappeared.

Film, photography, graphic design. Maybe I should base my choice of major on how enthusiastic I am to attend classes now. I thought I could perhaps start a relationship with product design, but I found myself simply unwilling to get out of bed this morning even though I didn't really have anything better to do than go for class. I just didn't want to saw polysterene this day.