je ne voudrais qu'une baguette (i just want a baguette)...

well, my dear (nonexistant?) readers, here's a little parisienne compte du jour.

this afternoon i was released from my french grammar refresher course at 3:30, or to be absolutely precise, i suppose i should say 15h30. in any case, i spent the following 45 minutes doing facebook-y things in the school's computer lab, since the wifi connection at the hotel where usc is putting us up for a week just isn't strong enough to handle 14 of us trojan brats demanding our facebooks each moment of the day. after i had my daily dose of unabashed narcissism, aka checking my facebook, i realized that i was rather hungry. being that the exchange rate is atrocious and that i've inherited at least some part of german stinginess, i absolute detest spending my precious euros on overpriced food and drink. i've gotten in the habit of eating approxamitely one baguette per day, adorned with some slices of swiss cheese, gouda, strawberry jam, or generic brand chocolate-hazelnut spread. so i decided to stroll over to one of the many delicious boulangeries around the corner from my temporary domicile to purchase my delicious 85 [euro]cent stick of bread (oh and brief tangent: instead of putting the baguettes in bags here, they just wrap a piece of paper around the center, which is where you hold on to the bread. its quite cute).

as i entered the bakery, i heard two voices conversing in rather raised tones. there were no other customers in the bakery (being as 4:30 is a rather bizarre time to be buying your bread for the day, this is usually a morning affair, and pastries usually in the later evening), and there was no one behind the counter. i could vaguely see two figures in "the back" of the shop, but they couldn't see/didn't notice me. the small middle aged french woman of asian background who i have seen each time i have been to this particular bakery, whom i suspect is the owner, was yelling at a scrappy young possibly arab man as she was pulling bottled drinks out of a refridgerator and handing them to the man, who was replacing them in some sort of order that she deemed more proper. i can't remember word for word everything she said, but the point was that this kid fucked up and she was maaad about it. this went on for several minutes before she finally returned to the cash register. as she walked away from him, she screamed "si tu fais quelque chose, fais le bien!!" (if you do something, do it well!!).

as soon as she turned the corner and saw me, i suspected that she would take my order acting as if nothing was amiss, as if i hadn't heard a thing, even though we both knew that i had. i suppose that this would have been the american thing to do. instead, she began to speak to be about her troubles with this young man. she was pretty worked up and speaking very fast- i knew what she was talking about, but i couldn't really understand the words or phrases she was using, so i nodded along sympathetically while trying to let her know that i wanted a baguette normale, all the while hoping (as i always do) that i wouldn't blow my own cover and out myself as an americaine. at one particular pause i added "alors, c'est les garçons" ('well, thats boys for ya') to which she replied "je m'en fous les garçonas!" which basically means "I don't give a shit, boys!" but from what I understand has a slightly more vulgar connotation.

finally i managed to get my baguette and my 15 cents change, and to leave the bakery all in one piece without revealing my americannes, altogether amused by the incident.

...so maybe that wasn't a great story. but you know what? je m'en fous, ici c'est un blog!!