Sláinte!

Is it possible to die of a chlorophyll overdose? Because I just ate a lot of green beans. I mean, a LOT. More green beans than any one person should physically be able to eat in one sitting. So if my skin mysteriously turns green tomorrow, like that guy who turned blue because of his medication, that will be why. But can you blame me? They were so delicious and fresh and... delicious!

Anyways, speaking of green things, spring is here! It was sixty degrees outside yesterday! I forced myself out of the apartment to go in search of a couple of plays I need for my essay, which of course were nowhere to be found. At least it got me out of the apartment, because I spent the rest of the day toiling away inside so I could justify going out to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. We went to this Irish place (there are probably a thousand pubs in Paris) in Saint Germain, and I didn't realize till I got inside that I had, in fact, been there before and that I had, unfortunately, puked there before. (I confirmed this when I went to the bathroom and ended up in the same famous stall I barely made it into before hurling on the blue-tiled floor.) It was just as crowded and hot, but not as smoky, as I remembered it. You will not be at all surprised to know that I had a Guinness, but you probably will be surprised to know that I a)finished it to the last drop and b)was the first one done! Seriously, it was an historic night. And on top of that, when we left to find another bar that actually had some vacant seats, I had yummy sangria, and I didn't get sick! I know, I'm still in disbelief.

So at this bar, I had a very classic Allison Superiority Complex Moment. There were five of us, and we were sitting in the corner next to a LOUD group of Americans - undergrads, of course, which we all spotted the minute we sat down. I guessed from the uniform hairstyles, fake tans, Blackberries and Lacoste shirts that they were from New Jersey, or at least some place on the East Coast, which they were (NJ and Philly). One of the guys asked me where we were all from, and that started a short conversation, but when it got to where we went to school, and one of the girls replied that she had a lot of friends in "our program," I had to specify that we were grad students, thus implying that we actually live here and aren't just "abroad" and really do speak the language and aren't just interested in going to bars and picking up scrawny, sketchy Frenchmen in glasses with horrible taste in music. I know, I know, don't be judgmental, Allison. You were there too once. Ok, but I was never loud and obnoxious in tiny bars where you get elbowed in the ass as you try to get back to your seat and can tell what religion some guy is just by brushing up against him as you find your way through the throng of drunkards sipping sangria. I never once uttered (read: yelled) the phrase "OH MY GOD I'M SO DRUNK!" or "Oh, everyone has Blackberries these days, even in France." For the record: I have seen maybe three non-American people with Blackberries or Blackberry-like objects in Paris.

Also, what is it with 35-year-old men hitting on 20-year-old co-eds? Gross. My friend and I were waiting by the jukebox while her boyfriend was in the bathroom, and this guy (please refer back to description of picking up guys in bars) came up to us, thinking he was being real smooth, and feigned ignorance as to how the jukebox worked. Please. A chimp with no eyes could figure that one out. My friend said something to him, to which he replied in English, so I thought I would be a bitch and keep talking in French, because - well, just read that whole last paragraph again. I really do hate being confused with junior year abroad kids who are just there to drink wine and get laid. Anyways, he thought I was French, which was pretty cool. And then he ignored me and kept hitting on my friend. When her boyfriend got back, he pretty much ditched us and went for the AUP kids (American University of Paris), and the only other thing he said to me was "You make line?" when I was waiting for the bathroom. Yes, motherfucker, on fait la queue. You can practice your English with kids that don't speak French. Jackass.

Tonight is our hopefully triumphant return to Pub Quiz. I haven't been for about a month, with my dad visiting and midterms and whatnot. I'm looking forward to forgetting about school for a while and hanging out with cool people, and maybe, just maybe, finishing another pint of Guinness. Or two. But let's not get too crazy there. I may just have to keep to my usual cider and call it a night.