Shpounk

Today, reader, I want to tell you about Lost. Therefore, the title of this post is the opening credits' music (I'm sure you had noticed).

Anyway. Lost is a fantastic series, of which I would never miss an episode, which is why I watched all three of them yesterday evening, which is why I turned off my alarm clock this morning in an unconscious attempt to stay in bed and keep dreaming about airplanes full of handsome men crashing down on Paris. It was successful, until I woke up and found out that it was 9.00, which is the time at which I'm supposed to start working.

I just hate sleeping in, reader, I don't know about you, but it makes me crazy. I mean, one minute your head is resting on your pillows, you are swimming in an ocean of bliss, you brain is switched off, and life is beautiful, and the next you are trying to cram yourself into an already packed train, and you have to think, and you have to be polite. It's just too brutal. I hate my alarm clock. I think I might become an ermit, just so I can wake up when I feel like it.

It's just a question of picking the right place! I'd be an ermit on the island where they shot Lost. I'd have the company of the cast and crew once every year, and the rest of the time, I'd just be eating mangoes and roasting seagulls! Wake up late and kill your own food, that's my idea of paradise :) Of course, you don't want to do the same in Alaska, because apparently, their national dish is made of seals' poo and oil. And they don't even have bread to spread it on. I'm not kidding, I saw it on TV, so it must be true. Anyway, this post is getting nowhere, and I think it's time for me to go home, so I'll leave it at that for tonight.

I am translating some newsletter about laws on working conditions in Germany (how to fire people politely, and stuff), and my brain is just about to explode. I uderstand the sentences in German and it seems to magically turn into gibberish as soon as I write it in French. I say the same thing three time, it makes no sense, it's all very confused, and very confusing, and I don't even want to think about the time when I'll have to proof-read the whole thing. The Claire of tomorrow is going to hate my guts...

And no, indeed, this post was absolutely not about Lost, but I thought pretending it is would be a nice justification for me to put nice pictures in and a silly joke at the beginning.

I need a hero...

Hey reader!!

I was looking for a good post subject today, (which is kind of difficult, since I decided not to read anything in English or in French before the end of the holidays -I need to keep the work up with my German, I can feel it getting worse and worse, and there's just no way I'll let all the benefit of my stay in Graz waste away before University starts again. After that, OK, I may stop making efforts, but not before :) Anyway... where was I??? Yeah, I was looking for a good post idea, but I did not find any. So instead, I will tell you about my problem with meeting someone famous.

I have met two famous people in my life (well, actually, I have met one -famous only in France-, and I got to say "hi" to the second while being pushed hard in the back by a furious crowd of hysterical fans), and I still have not solved my dilemma: "What would I do if I got to really talk with someone I really like?", and "would I really like to talk to someone I really like?".

I am a big fan of lots of things, and I am prepared to do crazy things to prove it (like queuing for hours, mostly -my biggest record being the U2 concert in Paris and Shahrukh Khan's "appearance" in the biggest Vrigin Megastore in Paris). But then again, when I start thinking about what I would do if actually given a chance to talk to any of those people, I get all weird. What would I actually say? Like, I'm not the hysterical-screams-and-laughter-and-then-pass-out kind of girl (I don't think I am anyway), but then again, if you act like you're all used to it, maybe you might not look enthusiastic enough?

So I was wondering about that from time to time, and then I found Nathan Fillion's blog. Nathan Fillion is a great actor from a great TV Series (i.e. Firefly, I have already written about that). And this got me really frightened!! Nothing seems to be OK! And then again, when I try to imagine that I am Nathan Fillion (hmmm... let me go have a look in the mirror... nope. I'm not), I can understand myself not wanting to be harassed by crazy people who talk about my backside like it's their!

I don't know. I think I'd still like to have a chance to talk to the people I like very much, if you take the "will they find me unbearably stupid and write mean things about me in their diaries" criteria away, be it just to say thank you. Not "Let's go to the caribbean together, Josh Holloway, I'm sure you'll like me once you know me", just "thanks", because I guess that's what would be most important. Well, reader, I hope you liked that very profound thinking, I am now going to go home, and try to uncook my brain, which has apparently been steamed to duh-ness...

Have a nice evening!

You can leave your hat on

Yesterday, I watched "Casino Royale" with my sister F. So I thought I would tell you about the incredibly deep thoughts that came to my mind while I was watching it.

First of all, I need to tell you that I discovered I was allergic to my hair. As soon as let them loose, I start sneezing. I knew I should keep them nicely tied, because of the wind and the fact that not tying them makes me look like a madwoman who just came out of the woods, but I did not think that nature could be so cruel as to make a person allergic to herself. I am allergic to so many stupid things (raw potatoes, among others), but this last one really beats them all... Anyway. I suppose I'm actually allergic to the thing I put in my hair to try to tame it, but it's kind of strange, wouldn't you say?

Second, Daniel Craig looks much better with his clothes on. Why do actors in the world and people in general think that having really big muscles looks good? It's just not true!! Well, I know, his being so muscular is all part of his James-Bond-Acting (as in "I'm not very subtle, but I'm very efficient") but I just can't help complaining. It's not as bad as it is in India, but it's pretty bad already.

Third, I just love that scene in the shower. (Sounds kind of weird, now that it's written down...) Well, Eva Green is traumatized because she just witnessed a double murder (i.e. She just saw Mr Potato kill two evil hitmen) and she sits all dressed in an (incredibly beautiful and slinky) purple dress, under a cold shower. Enters Daniel Craig, and what does he do??? He sits down next to her, without even bothering to take his shoes off. And then he takes her in his arms, and turns the hot water faucet. It's just so cute. I like it anyway. I like Daniel Craig more than any other James Bond ever. I like Daniel Craig very much.

I take this opportunity to make an aside about "what you should take off when in the water". I think that men characters who jump in pools/ponds/the sea in order to save a damsel in distress/fix an electrical equipment, should not bother to take off their shirt, but take off their shoes. Indeed, even though it takes more time, they are more likely to be ruined by the salt, and much more difficult to dry. Hence my message to all: We know that you just wanted to show us you muscles, man, don't even try to hide it by justifying your behaviour ridiculously.

There, reader, I think that's it for today. Now I have to go, because it's time to go home!! I just want to share a thought for my best friend V, who is working her head off at the swimming pool (poor V). May you meet a lot of Daniel Craigs, willing to take off their shoes and shirts and jump to your rescue, V.

Keep myself awake

Urgh, reader! I'm soooo sleeeeeepy!!!

It's nice and cosy in my desk's chair, I'm all tired, I just could fall asleep, but I need to keep on entering answers to questionnaires in the computer, because that's my task today. It's interesting to see the answers, from time to time, but I must say, in the long run, it kinds of get me sleepy. I can feel my heart slowing down, sloooowing down, and then I have to fight to keep my head from dropping, and I can nearly see my EEG getting flatter and flatter... I'll end up brain dead!! I need to go see DrHouse!!

Anyway. I finished proofreading the newsletter about Excel, I hope I didn't do anything wrong, and I hope the writer won't be trying to kill me in my sleep and write "dunce" above my head in my own blood... I just can't seem to get the logic of this programm...

Apart from that, I discovered today that my "itinerary to fame" is ruined!! Someone has already made a remix of "do you love me". It's really not good enough (not nearly as good as my planned version anyway, as I'm sure you've guessed), but I don't want to be accused of plagiarism, so I'll just let it go, I think. I'm sure I'll find some other song. That will be my next mission.

Oh, yeah, and I wanted to tell you, yesterday, after I met my friend M, from Dublin, I went back home, and I took the wrong Metro, and at the station where the lines splits and goes towards two different directions, I had to hurry out of the train, which is not easy, because it was crammed. The driver said "good news, people, we're going to Saint Denis" -which is not where I was going.

Then he saw me hurrying through the crowd thourgh (I guess) his little in-board camera (Big brother's watching you, people of Paris!), and he laughed and said "Yeah, miss!! You need to GET OUT now!! We're NOT going to Asnières!" and then he kept on talking, like "please fasten your seatbelts" and stuff. I guess Mr Driver was in a good mood. It was kind of freaky, but I like it when drivers in Paris make little jokes and stuff. Usually they sound like grumpy bears, and they are absolutely not original, so I figure, a little fun doesn't hurt.

Anyway. Guess what reader?? It's time to go home! I'll leave it at that for today, and tomorrow, I promise, I'll find something even more rivetting to talk about :)

A bientôt!

If I had money...

Well reader, I changed my mind. I'm actually not going to be a singer, I'll invest all my money in the stock market, and become very very rich. I found a good way to achieve this, and I just can't wait to meet Donald. Trump, of course, not the duck.

I've spent my day translating an add for a newsletter which helps you win money thanks to the stock market, and I reached the point where I wonder if I should not stop studying right now, and try this technique instead. Of course, the only problem is you need to start off somewhere. Maybe when my song is out I'll have enough money to invest? I'll buy a goldmine first, and then I'll let my money work for me. I just love the concept. I can just see the little green bills and golden coins with their spades and axes, chopping and digging and finding more of themselves, and piling it up in some kind of huge vault under my mansion... Hmmmm... Wake up, Claire, the day's not over yet.

Well nearly, actually, it's time for me to legally go away and do some shopping... Paris, the city of fashion, seems to have taken a violent dislike to my old and shabby gray pullover I bought in H&M five years ago. Apart from the little orange curry stain I made on it two days after I bought it, I hardly see what's wrong with it. I love my pullover. It already looked 15 when I bought it. But it's too hot for such clothing and it's bargain time, and T, the accountant, has given me good news today, so I have a right to go get something nice to wear.

Anyway. Time to go! Good evening!! I promise my next post will be about something rivetting. I just learnt that "passionnating" wasn't a word, by the way, reader! Isn't that amazing?? Anyway, my next subjet will thus be rivetting. If you have any suggestion, please feel free... :)

You'll never shine if you don't glow

Yeah, don't you like that sentence?? Mid-way between an add for 'Head and Shoulders' and a chinese proverb... I like it anyway... Thank you, Smash Mouth!

Today, I wanted to tell you why and how I intend to become a superstar. No, not just a star, a superstar. The Bloody Blunders and myself will have an amazing and unforgettable carreer in the singing industry. The music industry actually, I don't think there is such a thing as a singing industry...

Like a brilliant mind of our times once said (Mr. F. N.), being a singer allows you to have a captive audience, and you can tell them all you want. If they paid their ticket, it means they like you, and are likely to listen to what you say, so becoming a superstar is my first step towards ruling the world. Beware, Bono, here I come!! Soon we'll rule the planet with Bob Geldoff and be nicknamed "the welfare company of the knightly angels". How about that??

Money, fun, and the love of millions of fans come next on the list. Oh, and a free mobile, and above all else, meeting other superstars in parties where you can only drink champagne. If he was very very drunk, I think I might have a chance of winning the heart of Paul Bettany. I guess I do look like a 1m55 tall green-eyed black-haired beauty, provided you have drunk enough Veuve Cliquot!

Now as to the process of achieving superstardom, I found this morning the song that will make me famous. It would have to be a remix, because people like to hear things they already know. It would be the "Do you love me" song from "Dirty Dancing" (no, reader, I am not ashamed...). You know, "you broke my heart, 'cause I couldn't dance, you didn't even want me around, but now I'm back, to let you know, I can really shake'em down..." and stuff.

I made a little marketing study in my head on my way to the metro this morning, and it's got only good sides!! It's got a little 70's touch, which is good, because the 70's are in this summer. (well, I don't actually know, but I'm sure they will be once my song is out). It's telling the listener what to do (I can mash potatoes -I can mash potatoes- I can do the twist -I can do the twist...), same as other immortal hits like "Mambo Number Five", "Macarena" or "With or Without you". Wait no. Not "With or Without You". And it's nice and dancy. I think I want to start my new superstar's career with a happy song. So that people think my CD is happy and makes you feel good and all, and then they buy it, and then I can plague them with sad sad songs.

Well, reader, I think it's time for me to go and get started. I need to find a producer, buy the licence to the song, maybe meet Partick Backside Swayze and check if he would be up for a duet... Or not... Anyway, so much to do and so little time!!

Have a nice day!

Wake up...

Hey Reader!!!

I was trying hard not to write anymore, I was thinking, "what's the point, now that I'm not doing it for class, who cares about what you write", and stuff, but I was missing you soooo much, I had to keep myself from touching a keyboard. Which was not particularly easy, especially now that I am working for the summer. Then I got a mail from my brother in Oklahoma (five minutes ago, to be precise) who told me he too wanted me to write new posts! So I figured, let's get crazy, write a 66th post, and see what happens...

Anyway. Want a little "Claire Update"?? I can't resist telling you about my new job here in Paris. I used to work in this same firm at the customer service, but this year, since I'm doing an internship that has to be validated by my university in Strasbourg, I am doing more of a language-related work. Proof reading, a little bit of translation, it's all very interesting. I'm working on a newsletter about Excel right now, and I must warn you, reader, I think Excel is the tool of Evil. It has extremely freaky abilities which no one knows about: it can summon dialog boxes and turn formulas into weird results you did not expect, and it's the closest I've come to Artificial Intelligence.

And guess what?? We were right to fear, dear Wachowski brothers, it uses its unbelivable abilities ONLY to piss me off. Luckily, I can contact the journalist who writes the instructions, and he is the most efficient hotline ever. Which is good, because I'm very far from being a naturally talented Excel user.

I think I should worry, actually. Maybe he is The Master of All Evil. Maybe I should get a priest to un-bewitch my phone and my computer. I'll work on that.

Anyway. Things are OK for me here in Paris, the weather is just right (i.e. pretty bad, but I like it this way, because the subway in August, with 35°C outside and 55 inside, is my vision of hell. Well, working on an Excel program while standing in the subway in august is my vision of hell. I could add some conditions (the soundtrack and stuff) but I don't want to give you nightmares, reader, that would be cruel of mine.) I like Paris very much, because it's a lovely city, but the office is now in a lousy area of the town, so there is nothing to do but go back home when I get out of work.

But for now, I guess I'd better get back to work, because I'm not here to fool around!! It's my lunchbreak, but it had to come to an end, didn't it??

Hop, au boulot!