Why it's the day after my birthday and I'll blog if I want to

My sister has been here for the last three days, and we've mostly been eating, sleeping, and posing with chess pieces on our heads in front of famous Parisian landmarks.


It's not actually as easy as it looks.


I won't go into the whole explanation, but you can bet that where there is a pawn, there is a small, Marseillais man named Fred involved.

Otherwise we've been perfecting the art of appearing either insouciant or concerned, as the case may warrant.

Insouciant:

Becca recreating an H&M subway ad and managing to capture that evocative feeling of gleeful constipation.

Concerned:

It's the button on top, you have to push the...How many times do I have to tell you? The button on top!!!

Insouciant:

Thinks she's so cute.

Concerned:

Seriously, again? It's the button on top! On top!!!

I'm going to kill you if you don't take the damn picture! I will sell you to the Senegalese string braiders! Don't think I won't!

Insouciant:

Becca thinks if she can convince the Senegalese string braiders that she is borderline insane, they will leave us alone. It doesn't work. We barely escape with our lives. Ok, just kidding. But they are tenacious little buggers.

Tonight is my birthday dinner in Paris where Hervé meets my roommates and my sister meets Hervé, who doesn't speak English, and Fred, who does. Worlds collide. To be continued...