France

Shit. I've been lazy with my posts recently, so I'm going to sum up the last 4 weeks' highlights (which conveniently is the time i spent in France) with this über long post. Here goes nothing;

Alcoholic Family Meals That Never End -

I had to attend a ridiculous amount of family lunches while i was in Frog Land, and most of them consisted of my older relatives (since i have no younger relatives) getting smashed. They had 'aperitif', which is the french word for drinks before the meal, drinks during the meal, and drinks after the meal, until about 4, and by that time half of them were comatose in either a pool or a couch, depending on whose house we were at. Great role models, eyh?

Dad Picking Up Hitch-hikers -

The only thing worse than seeing all 3 Twilight films, is seeing my dad picking up randoms on the side of the highway.

They were 2 Swedish blondes (i wonder why he picked them up off the road and not the hobo by the bus stop before?) and they were going in exactly the opposite direction that we were going. So instead of being on the road for 3 hours, we were on the road for 5 hours. Thanks Dad. I'll remember that when it's time to put you in a retirement home.

Topless Beaches -

One awesome thing about France (and no, its not croissants, cheese, wine, snails or frogs legs) is that its legal for women to go topless to the beach. This has ups and downs; as much as its fun to perve on chicks getting their breasts tanned, there are only a few good-looking ones who actually do it. Most of the topless chicks are 60+ with tits that sag more than a magicians sleeve, which haunts any normal person for a few days.

Dad Flirting With 17 Year Old Girls -

Hey hey, its embarassing Dad moment number 2! If picking up hitch-hikers wasn't bad enough, a few later, he started hitting on this girl who was interested in me. Sucking in the stomach to make it look like a six-pack, saying all this knowledgeable stuff and trying to be funny, flexing muscles and pretending to think at the same time, wearing budgie smugglers at the beach (okay maybe not the last one)... The list goes on. She, however, was not impressed, and when learnt that that pedophile was my dad, she immediately got scared of me and ran off. Thanks again, Dad. Maybe i won't even bother putting you in a retirement home, i might just dump you at the bus stop with that hobo you wouldn't pick up.

Souvenirs -

One thing that i hate about going on holidays in a different country is having to buy souvenirs for all my friends. I mean, what the fuck am i supposed to get you? A fucking beret? Oh yeah, REAL original...

It also means that i have to go into souvenir shops, which are packed with Japanese tourists with their Nikon cameras hanging off their necks and German or English backpackers with a bag the size of an elephant's penis (around 2 metres long, i'm guessing?) all wanting a mini Eiffel Tower to take home to prove that they went to France. (Yeah, great proof. i can get those from Safeway, idiots)

So yeah, that was pretty much the last 4 weeks of my existence summed up into a what-i-hope-was-an-informative-blog-post.