Steak tartar is raw, fyi

First of all, my host brother was just watching Pirates of the Caribbean en francais, and it's amazing how funny it isn't when it's not actually Johnny Depp's voice. The French have been deprived of a great, great thing.

My schedule of classes is as follows:

On Tuesdays and Thursdays
- Intro to French Lit. - 9:45 - 11:00
- Grammar - 11:15 - 12:30
- Phonetics - 2:00 - 3:15

Wednesday
- Paris Theatre - 1:00 - 4:00

That means no classes Monday or Friday, which means every weekend is a long weekend. So you know if anyone wants to hop a plane to Paris for the weekend and aller au discotque (Emma Sconyers, I'm looking at you...and Mrs. Paquin) that would be fine. In a sense it's good because everything is so condensed, but it's going to be a whole lot of work between Tuesday and Thursday. But as long as I'm a good monkey and do all my theatre homework in advance and not on Tuesday night, everything should be fine. But everyone knows that won't happen, so chances are everything will not be fine, because procrastination is a lot easier when the place down the street from my house has the best chocolate mousse I have ever had in my whole life, and my new best friend Damien (whose wife is American with a Boston accent) works there. Mom was here on a trip tonight, and we met Damien while eating dinner at the place of the amazing chocolate mousse.

Mom: And I'll have the steak tartar--
Damien: You know zat zee steak tartar, eet eez raw, yes?
Mom: Yes, I know.
Damien: And you would laik to eet eet steel?
Mom: Yes.
Damien: But you are Amereecan?
Mom: Yup.
Damien: And you are sure, you know zat eet eez raw, and you would laik to eet eet?
Mom: YES.
Damien: Okay fine, but remember zat I say to you, eet eez raw. Many Amereecans, when I bring to them zee steak tartar, they say to me, "BUT ZEES EEZ RAW, EET EEZ NOT COOK!"
Mom: I...won't say that. I've had it before.
Damien: Okay, for you I bring zee steak tartar.

The cats keep scratching on the door of my room to come in, but then once they get inside and sniff around for awhile and realize that there are no pigeons to look at, they start scratching to go out again. Now Daphne is under my bed, probably clawing up my big purple duffle bag because apparently that is her new favorite activity.

Tomorrow we (Valerie and I) are going for a walk in the Jardin du Luxembourg, and on Thursday my group takes over the Rive Seine by way of the Bateaux Mouche.