WHAT TIME IS IT?

BARACK O'CLOCK!

And that's really all I have to say about that. It's astounding and sad that, up until this point, I have never been able to be proud to be an American because of something that's happened in my lifetime. But now I guess we can start making up for lost time. Because as Hilary says, this country's got a fever, and the only cure is BARACK OBAMA.

And more cowbell, because who doesn't love more cowbell?

Anyway, I cut off all my hair again, only this time it's shorter and French-er. Pictures to come, when I figure out how to put them on this blog. The hair-cutting-lady is amazing; she basically comes at you in a flurry of snippy scissors, pinning and unpinning and repinning different parts of your hair. It's kind of intimidating, but she clearly knows what she's doing. When I told her that I wanted my hair short, she said "Oh no, not too short. That wouldn't be pretty on you." Possibly harsh, but absolutely true. That's the thing (well, one of the things) I love about France--no one, no matter what they're trying to sell you, will ever let you go away looking ugly. If you're in a store trying something on and you ask the sales person their opinion, they will give it to you. Even if that opinion is "Oh no, that doesn't go at all, don't buy it!" (which I have actually witnessed before). The priority is clearly to keep everyone looking their best (presumably so nobody has to suffer looking at ugly people on a daily basis) even if that means not making a profit on them. And I have to say, considering the number of above-averagely attractive people around here, it's working.

Anyway, today we had some weird little fete with French students from this engineering school in Paris. It was mostly guys with a few girls thrown in there, but as Madame Stevens said (like eight times) that is NOT the reason we were meeting them. Obviously. But it was nice if a little awkward, and I made a really short and hilarious Moroccan friend whose name I definitely cannot pronounce. But I don't feel bad, because when I said my name his first try was "Fanny?" and then after the second, slower repetition, "Mary?" I'm just going to start telling people my name is Marie-Antoinette and save myself the headache. We played a weird question-answering game where our team (me, Kristin, Moroccan boy, cinema-liking-boy, and other-boy) definitely did not win because we were too busy trying to figure out what Moroccan boy's favorite movie was--it turned out to be Shawshank Redemption, but since the French title has absolutely nothing to do with the American one it took us a long time to realize what he meant.

My theatre exam today was ridiculously easy in a write-about-whatever-you-want-while-the-prof-goes-outside-to-smoke kind of way. The phonetics exam on Tuesday wasn't bad either, aside from the part where I had to learn the phonetic alphabet all at once because I obviously did not do it earlier in the semester. And the literature eam was alright; not necessarily any better or worse than I thought it would be, but annoying nonetheless. Tomorrow is grammar which I should probably be studying for, but alas I am reveling in my new hair and purple (fake)leather jacket. Yeah I know, but it's the sales and I can't help it. Don't worry though, I have a new money-saving plan. Unfortunately it involves sacrificing the thing I felt was most easily left off in my regular expenses--food! Just kidding. But not really. I clearly need a purple leather jacket more than I need to buy lunch, especially when I can steal yogurt from home and eat that. We'll see how that goes.

In other news, Hannah and I are signed up for a creative writing workshop at Shakespeare & Co. because we are obviously literary smarty-pantses. Or because we're too nerdy to stay away. Or both, whatever. But it doesn't start until March, so we've got awhile to go (read as: we've got awhile to prepare something we actually want people who are (possibly) serious about writing to read and not think we're morons).

In other other news which is in fact not so new or different, it's almost nine o'clock and I have not yet eaten dinner. Damnit, France, if only you got hungry on a normal schedule.