What Happens on Spring Break Stays on Spring Break

I'll try to write an entry today AND tomorrow because I don't know when I'll be able to write again in the next two weeks. I'm sure I'll find some internet cafes, so be on the lookout! I'm leaving tomorrow for an Italian tour (Milan, Rome, and Venice) and Greece (Santorini). I'm going with Molly and our friend, Katie. We all have decided that we're going to have a ridiculous amount of fun and our motto will be "What Happens on Spring Break Stays on Spring Break."

With a motto like that, I hope we'll all still be talking when we get back. Imagine the damage that could be done...

Don't worry, Mom. I will make intelligent decisions. I'll also resist getting sold into white slavery.

I have a language exchange tonight, so I'm looking forward to that. I get to see all my friends one last time before going off on my grand Greecian and Italian adventures. Molly and I have decided to dress up for this one: her to convince Aurélien that he wants to have a torrid love affair with her and me... for no real reason. A girl doesn't need an excuse to look pretty.

Hugo was supposed to be there tonight, but he called me last night and said, "I can't come tomorrow, but I want to see you before you leave! Do you have time to go out for a drink tonight?" When I agreed, he said, "Ok, meet you at the train station in an hour."

I don't think the male gender understands sometimes how long it takes to get ready. An hour did not seem like a sufficient amount of time to make something to eat, eat it, put on makeup, straighten my hair, change my clothes, and walk to the station, but I am Superwoman. I did it all AND beat him to the train station. When he told me I looked really nice, I said, "You should have seen me an hour ago. My face alone would have made children run in fear."

Ok, so I didn't say that, but next time I will. Probably.

We went to his friend's appartment (his friend is also in the language exchange) and drank wine, listened to old French songs, and some people smoked cigarettes (I spared them my cancer speech, but it was so tempting... Hugo doesn't smoke, which I was happy to learn). It was all very French. The conversation was also mostly in French, so I understood only about half of it... or more like a fourth of it. But every so often Hugo would ask if I understood and then everyone would give me a group French lesson. Having French friends is so much more helpful than actually going to school. Too bad "hanging out with French people" isn't a class. I would ace that one.

I returned the favor by teaching them more American slang. They needed to have it expanded from "OMG" and "LOL." They proceeded to call each other "tools" for the rest of the night. I don't know that I'll ever teach them "pimp" as the last thing I need is to hear a large group of self-assured Frenchmen calling each other pimps. Though it would be fun to hear in a French accent. I'm teaching Arnaud all the ghetto terms I can think of for this purpose. So far he can say "What's up, homie g?" and calls me "shawtie" (shawtie=shorty=attractive girl).

Today Hugo sent me a text message that said, "Have a goodtime and dont pay attention to italian or greek guy's! French are the bests!!" (The grammar is his, not mine.) I told him I would say, "I'm sorry, you're not just not French enough" to any guy who tried to approach me. I'm sure this will work as the perfect repellant, because Greecian and Italian males are known world-wide for giving up easily when a woman turns them down.

And now I have to go do homework and prepare for tonight. Time to get pretty again...