Things I'm giving up for Lent/ Shout out to New Orleans!

Since I didn't make a New Year's Resolution (I'm becoming a cynical Frenchie) I feel it rather important that I make a legit Lent resolution. Something difficult to prepare me for Easter, you know. I don't know if the French know what Lent is (damn secular culture) and they sure don't know how to celebrate Mardi Gras (wouldn't want to be like "kitsch Americans")...but I'm going to do it anyway.

I would give up chocolate, except I joined the Club Med today. And I have limited funds to buy food. So it can't be diet related. I'm already on that.

And I'm just not going to give up caffeine because that's silly. No one wants to see me in a coma-like state. And it would be too easy since I only drink 1-2 teas a day. Every once and awhile I throw a coffee or Diet Coke in there. And I would be losing out on potentially life-saving antioxidants. So this popular idea loses with me.

Plus, giving up "unhealthy" food groups and forcing yourself to look good in a swimsuit just in time for beach weather all seem a little selfish...a little superficial, don't you think? Kinda loses the reason for the season.

So I'm going to do something more meaningful and more difficult. Something that requires a little more energy. Something for my emotional well-being.

I am giving up French men. I quit you. As of tomorrow matin.

So there.

When Lent begins I will start my search for the ideal Irish, British or American man. Or I will go find Christian Ahlmann.

By the time Lent is over I will be safely home in Alabama, free of the drama and endless BISOUS of French men. This, my friends, is exciting.


People who ride horses are the prettiest people in the world

Exhibit A:

This is my sweet future boyfriend Christian Ahlmann. I don't know if the attraction lies more in the fact that he looks plucked straight from the DKE or KA house, his Olympian horse-riding abilities or his bad-boy appeal (he got caught for doping his horse after the Equestrian Olympic Games in Hong Kong). I have basically decided that he and his high, horse-riding buttocks are meant for me. And my colleagues who know him agree. As my previous post notes, I'm not down with all the lovey-dovey bisoussssssss the Frenchmen are blowing my way; seeing a burly German drink pints of beer hits closer to home...in a good way.

You know, I just can't bring a dude who owns a hair dryer to Gallette's. But this guy, yes. And I have it on good word that he likes American women. Basically, I'm in like flin.

More to come concerning the looks of equestrians. I must go watch Christian jump to glory on his 10 year old gelding, Sebastian. A tout!