January 2012
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A lingering Indian food coma
is a culinary indulgence for which I would blithely shell out folds of cash to suffer. Mmm thali, you make my stomach croon in dulcet jubilation.
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Today's Tumbling Sponsored by the (British) Letter
ZED
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Shots, Emily-style.
Overflowing spoonfuls of (organic fair-trade) peanut butter and (French corporate) fig jam, savored kneeling fridge-side by one nostalgic American gastronome.
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My Social Anxiety Transcends Languages
French colleague: J'étais dans la rue et blah, blah, blah, blah...
Me: (I understand I'm listening let's do this) Mhmmmn...
French colleague: Tout à fait par hasard, blah blah blah....
Me: (I should add a word in now, yah let's try that) Oh, vraiment?
French colleague: Mais bien sûr! Et comme je vous ai dit blah blah blah, blah blah blah... qu'est que vous pensez?
Me: (I've understand everything, yes I'm awe—Oh shit, I have to say something?) Eugh... (fuckity!)... Ouias.
French colleague: (with a concerned look) Avez-vous compris?
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The Least Stale of Salutations
Good tidings to one and all, founding readers of this petite travel blog (travelogue?). My privacy radar goes a’ ragin’ when I spill my life story on the tumblr wheel. Thus, I’ve nixed such hoary traditions and instead shall scribe only the most foundational of personalia:
Assistant de Langue in Boulogne-Billancourt.
Crazy, cookin’, cantankerous vegan.
Adventurer of...