DAY TWENTY ONE, TWO and THREE of MySexLifeInParis

Butch, I miss you.

Since you left all I see are asses and so much potential, but nobody with whom to share all this wealth of information.

I am left without choice: I had to turn serious so I called my new friend Baptiste, stand up comedian and we spoke serious. It does sound a little bit a nonsense – a comedian that speaks serious, but in my humble experience lot of comedians are dead serious when not on a stage, actually most don’t laugh on a stage as well.

And I went to see other two stand up shows. In Paris in this moment there are something between fifty and one hundred one man shows. They take place in small theaters called café theater that are actually exactly as a standard theater but a lot smaller and sort of informal. I’ve been on shows were there were only twenty to thirty people and the most these places can do is around fifty, maybe seventy people in the audience. The shows almost to the minute last one hour, so they are sort of short and they are not expensive – around 15 euros per ticket that can become only 11 if you buy it on the day of the show. The quality is not excellent but there is always something to laugh about.

In Paris a part from Seine there is another big water: St. Martin’s canal. People often go to the shores of this canal, take food with them and dine next to the water. It is interesting: a little bit alternative and hippie. I went there with some people I know; one of them is moving to Berlin so they talked about rents in Berlin and in Paris.. an eternal subject that seams to have its share in whatever conversation. They spoke about bicycles, technical aspects. So I said I hated Museum of the primitive people’s art and got my share of attention. But, than they continued about Dubai that one of the guys visited couple of times this year - its economy and ecological issues regarding its development as it is. (and not a word about shopping.. which is actually great in Dubai. Nobody to ask me what I think about Dubai and about rents and about bicycles. Really, however interesting the subject can be if you have to fight to say something it is not interesting at all.)

And I had my first real date. I rarely have dates with people I like. For I usually understand much before a date if I like or not somebody and I like somebody every five years. So, patience for another couple of years and I am ready for the next big encounter.

I am really the last person on the world that can give advise in dating, if nothing because I just have very little experience in the field.

The guy I had dinner with the other day is a real gentleman: charming, sincere, goodhearted, good-looking, polite and in every way an excellent company. I can hardly find any reason not to throw myself in his arms. But, I don’t. He has it all, but that thing that makes you throw yourself in his arms against every reason.

And that is exactly the part of the dating agencies that I don’t understand. The description I would give to my agent would be exactly what my gentleman date was. They would then mach me with alike and I would stay single.

Carry question: ‘Do we stay single because we don’t know who we like or because we lie to ourselves about the look likes of what we fall for??’

Carry question 2 that serves as an answer to Carry question 1: ‘It does not function because it is our reason that, for example, in a matchmaking agency puts down the description of the guy we look for? While all that counts is our inner self that is miles away from our reason.

Finally, isn’t usually our inner self that of a sick person that needs to be put down a dozen times per day by a sweet, childish and irresponsible never totally dedicated ideal guy?

I suppose... Thought the sense of security and validation that a gentleman can pass to you is very attractive and hard to resist indeed.

Discovered my new favorite food – snails.

DAY NINETEEN AND TWENTY of MySexLifeInParis

Day Two and Three With My Friend Butch

Because we are intellectuals we go to the museums: they have the best bars and restaurants - the food is eatable, and people fuckable.

As we come we install ourselves in the bar and for the following two hours you can hear us say things like:

- On your left, the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen!!

- On your right, on your right.. (for those that still have to think what is right what is left) the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen!

- On your left the most beautiful Ass you have ever seen.

And so it goes for the next couple of hours.

At some point the conscience speaks and the routine is interrupted by: ‘Should we go to see the museum?’ But the other has a ready answer: ‘No reason to hurry.’

After three hours of this joy I became melancholic because our fun number one is to look guys that don’t look at us.

And than, not because these guys don’t look at us but because we are intellectual after all and serious people of age, we take out the camera and pretend to shoot bits of scattered sculptures as we photograph pretty faces and asses. Because we are not some teen kids that just look, now we act – we photograph. And when my friend Butch decides to act, this is how serious he is: camera on a table, whistling and picturing – big nothing.

Basically we spend the whole day making fools of ourselves. And that is serious. Thought probably not as serious as the fact that being foolish is what we consider the basis of our friendship. Believe it or not he once even praised me to a guy I liked saying no girl is as big a fool as me. No wonder I am an eternal single.

In the mean time Butch reports that even from the point of view of the male toilette these men deserve..

Oh, friends – it is so easy to be stupid when you are in a group. At this point Carry Bradshaw, my indisputable idol, would ask herself: ‘Do we need friends to be stupid?’ Yes, Carry we do, but you and your friends.. something tells me you could cope very well even on your own. I am sorry people, but I still bare so much bitterness after the Sex – the move, two hours and half of my life ruined. And as you witness: I have better things to do!

Ratings:

The jury agreed to assign the Mr. Big prize to this guy.. (do I hear applause.. and some groans)

And the special prize for good intentions and obvious effort to our number One! (oh, isn't he as sweet as saccharine?)

Finally it was time to upgrade and we entered the museum to admire two hats and one hand. At least I admired them when I was not feeling like cutting of Butch's head for having taken me to yet another unnecessary museum… but than I came up with a fantastic idea: I took a mirror from my purse and at last found some sense and beauty.

As friends do, we finished our days together shopping - not any shopping but twin shopping. Something only best friends and fools know.

DAY EIGHTEEN of MySexLifeInParis

Day One With My Friend Butch

Butch and I go back a long time… a time when we were two young kids without job and education, but with lot of dreams. Years passed, we changed: I lost my teen kilos, he lost hair, we got bitter and believe it a proof of our maturity, though people still accuse us for being kids; our education was beautiful, but inappropriate as a premise for a job we want and the dreams.. yes they are the same.. as if to remind us daily that nothing really changed.

A part from OurSexLifeInParis what we want the most in the world is to work. But it is hard. You hear often successful people lament for not having collage education, people going back to school to get diploma in order to go ahead with their carrier. We mourn over having a diploma: if we could of just invested all those years starting at the bottom and than slowly building up just as every other ignorant person, if we just were not so skilled and intelligent in general what perspectives would open in front of us.

But, we are so God dam superior that you just have to live with it. And as a number one losers we pass time scheming new wining moves for the victory. For example it never happens to us not to be even invited for the job interview. To own the truth before failing we succeed: we make three to four interviews – with the human resources, with the department’s manager, with the financial manager and a phone call interview of we are sorry we don’t need your services, but we’ll have you in mind as soon as some vacancy opens in our cleaning and garbage department.

Butch recently made all these interviews in top magazines and top TV channels and it is decided that in shortage of any real work experience in his CV there will be one page of full description of all the interviews he made it to: '- No, I never worked as TV producer, but I made four interviews for the position of second assistant to the assistant of one very important TV producer. - So, you got the job? - No, but I went to four interviews.'

You are kindly invited to comment on the pros and cons of this strategy. Thanks. P.S. We are anyway going to do it.

When we are not dreaming about super great jobs we go to visit museums. This time it was the turn of the Museum of the embankment Branly. What can you expect from a museum that is named after its address? A bunch of objects looking the same, meaning the same: against the rain, for the rain, against the devil, for the good spirit.... So, it is a museum of the arts of primitive people. But they’ve also put things of not so primitive people. It is so difficult to decide who is primitive and who is not, so that at the end the definition of the museum is geographical: the museum of the extra European art.

Luckily the architecture is beautiful. As soon as we arrived we visited the restaurant at the open that looked great and also presented couple of interesting male subjects that we could not but admire, so that the actual visit of the place was continuously postponed for the later hour. I still remember one of the finest examples of the human male gender with whom we even entered in conversation, but that left just because Butch did not made it crystal clear that he is not my boyfriend. Later we went to the shop and bought him a silk scarf to underline the obvious and open the road to our mutual multiply conquests.

The thing that knocked us both at this museum was the most amazing theatre venue. I breathe hard and my tong tangles as I think of it. The following pictures will not really help you to
understand and feel it. You just have to believe us.



So, in this museums a part from the 1004884 thousand wood masks you can also see:

Smiley penises much more to the point and cuter than the Obelisks.

Grand Fishermen

Copt Ethiopian middle ages frescos that are something special in their kind.

The Arab theater of the shadows: this theatre practice has been taken from India and became very popular in the 16^th century Turkey with a repertoire featuring a new cast of characters. It was often used as a means of social and political satire.

In the evening we went to the ‘exotic’ area of Paris, visited some strange clubs, saw a lot of interesting things and it is a real shame that I forgot my camera at home and can’t share that experience with the rest of you.

DAY SEVENTEEN of MySexLifeInParis

Visit to the Museum of Decorative Arts

All the time I bitch about museums, but at the end I always turn back to them. In fact can you imagine how boring MySexLifeInParis would be if there were none of these experiences. And museums are not ‘dead places only about objects’, you also meet people in the museum: for example that chubby red faced guy you met at the entrance and you were relived to move on from is your company for the following 50 rooms. Unless of course you don’t slow down and continue the visit with the adorable gay couple that is clearly annoyed by your presence.

Some days I get up and think: what is the point of me visiting them anyway when I as an adopted Florentine know it all. If everything important in the last 1000 years of European art was invented in Florence, what is the point to go around and see less.

Well, you always see something new.

It is not like the first room of the museum will be about Florentine art.

And if it is, which is understandable and just, it can never be first 5 rooms!

Unless we speak about the museum of Decorative Arts in Paris.

From the center of Paris, from the palace of Louvre, we proudly present you – Florence!

In all these Florence rooms there was even some space for Giorgio Schiavone that is Juraj Culinovic that made a full picture. It all makes you feel so superior. In fact, the more inferior one in truth is the more you need and search for the proof of the opposite.
Beautiful Lombard woodwork – intarsia door of 15^th century aristocrat's cabinets from their study rooms that were treasuring various scientific and technical gadgets of the time.
Beautiful girl in the mirror admiring fine surfaces of the objects and listening to the audio guide in French, admiring fine sounds of that mysteries language.
The way Napoleon liked his carpet, chair and tapestry.
And his dishes...

A rococo commode… you never know whether to like it or hate it. It is in the domain of your horoscope.

Rococo people liked Chinese people and everything Oriental and Florental and Forestall.

Two beautiful peaces from the twenties:

To finish the day a revitalizing freshly squashed juice of apple, orange and kiwi for the modest price of 7 euros. But, the idea is really good: they have all sorts of fruits and a very powerful mixer so that on the spot they produce these different juices absolutely fresh, tasty and healthy.

DAY SIXTEEN of MySexLifeInParis

SALES: The FEAST Of GOODS
In the ancient times when there was Eastern and Western Europe I got the luck to be born in the East. There were times, especially when watching Beverly Hills 90129 that I would ask myself most seriously why didn’t I have the luck to be born Brenda and at sixteen drive to my fancy high school and kiss with Dylan all day. My reason would than consul me with the usual: ‘At least you are not born in the Middle East, at least there is no war.’

In 1991 my reasoning was forced to turn down to the more modest: ‘There is a war, but at least you are alive.’ I so much appreciated being alive that I did not appreciate anymore cloths, boyfriends, music.. anything that was less serious than dead serious. I know you would of loved to have met me in that period - such a fun teenager I was.

Took me ten years to start seriously shopping again: ‘What is the point when anyway we are going to die?’ But, by this day I suppose I became a serious and respectful shopper again. Lets be honest: in our cities there is not so much more to do. So, I shop. I go out on a street, I walk around and as usual I am in search of the sense of the life (or at least of MySexLifeInParis) but what I get is a Chinese pendent!

I don’t think I could ever be a good salesman – and not just because I would not let people buy things that don’t suit them, but mostly because however cute the T shirt or a bag is it is just a thing.. and I don’t believe even in important things like Justice and Communism let alone in a T shirt. But there are people that do – the salesmen. I see it every day.. the most junk, unusable, unfashionable, ugly thing is sold with passion and belief. So, I suppose what they like and believe in is a profit, and I could believe in that too… but their ability to project the noble worship of profit to a junk useless ready to the garbage yet another key pendant is something in which they beat me by far. (Unless we are talking about the most junk useless ready to the garbage yet another pair of shoes – nobody beets me in that!)

Nota: The picture of this building is taken in the same street as the previous pictures of numerous shops like the one above. It was only by a chance that I understood that this was one of the first sites of the French Academy of Science, in which by the way was for the first time read Tartuffe.
But, unlike the shops you can’t enter here.
Unlike the shops I don’t know how much they believe in their ‘product’, but I know that they are not trying to sell it.

So, I passed by the historic site of the French Academy of Science and got myself a Chinese pendent.

I saw a stand up – one man show by Baptiste Lecaplain. It was not in a club, but in the smallest theatre I’ve been to: a venue of 40 seats. It was incredibly intimate and at the beginning I was afraid that such proximity (without beers) would make the public withdraw in themselves and then the most embarrassing thing would be to have the audience in this intimate position without any intimacy going on. But, Baptise thought very young, knows his deal and he started the show with the maximum of the interaction with the public directly asking for certain actions… that broke the ice and established relationship between us and him. Once we had that relationship he chilled out and let himself be. Throughout the show we laughed because his jokes are well crafted and because you can feel that he is goodhearted, clever and pleasant guy giving it all.

DAY FIFTEEN of MySexLifeInParis

I went to see a museum Nissim de Camondo today.

It is a mansion built in early 20^th century in 18^th century stile housing a nice collection of furniture and art of French 18^th century. The visit was interesting mainly for two reasons: to see from inside the rich man’s house of early 20^th century and for the amazing and touching story of the de Camondo family.

I would not recommend this house to those that search for the 18^th century architecture because the arrangement of the rooms and service areas is modern, but it is not bed to see the modern house from circa 1910., especially when you’ve spent years watching/living inside ‘You Rang, Milord?’ BBC house.

But the real people that lived in this house could also make great material for grand BBC stories. A Sephardic family that after the exile from Spain settled in Venice, latter in Istanbul, became the biggest bankers of Ottoman Empire, moved to Paris, became French and fought and died in First World War, extinguished in Auschwitz in the Second War War.
http://www.lesartsdecoratifs.fr/gb/04museecamondo/index.html

The ancestors: Nissim and Salmon de Camondo.. and French officer Nissim de Camando.

I spent a couple of hours in one fashion photo studio with no particular task rather than chatting with some three or four assistants during the shoot. And so it seems that in Paris it is difficult even to find a non paying job in fashion world – today on a shoot there were three or four non paid assistants: assistant to the video man, assistant to the stylist, second assistant to the photographer and an assistant to make up or hairstylist. And a Croatian model – Nika Senjak, the one in background getting the make up.

To finish the night - open mic in Paris. Next week it is my turn to stand up? The audience awaits, as you can see.

DAY TWELVE, THIRTEEN and FOURTEEN of MySexLifeInParis

But don’t you like Paris?

I get this question a lot.

Who doesn’t like Paris? It is like saying ‘No, I don’t like George Clooney.. he is nice.. but nothing special’ - ??!!!

Of course I love Paris: Of course I would love to live in a palace near Elisee and one day become Sarko’s lover. Isn’t that every girl’s dream? As Carla is explaining us daily.

But.. I suppose when you move from MySexLifeInMOSTAR to MySexLifeInParis you sort of have big expectations.

Let me explain it with an example: thirteen years ago I had no idea what was cellulite. HA HA HA Please, laugh with me: a girl of nineteen with no clue about cellulite is a perfect indicator of what a simpleton I was. But, one day a good friend from Australia arrived and she explained me all – that cute little dots to be seen with a microscope were not giving character to my ass, but they were in fact my enemy number one (and that was during the war in BiH). In no time we were cruising Florence in search of the most powerful weapon against our well buried enemy. Oh, those nice times when we were young.

Now I am an expert for the mater and I can see your cellulite even where there is no. But…, it will come! Be prepared, should be your moto, as it is mine as I go around with my precious cream massaging hard (p.s. I don’t really do it, but I think I should.. it is one of those things that are highly on my priority list of the things to do tomorrow never). I am also an expert for wrinkles, I can predict them: like the other day I looked to the face of thirty years old friend and I told her: in ten years you will have at least one big wrinkle or many small… I know that for a fact. I also know that I will have one day gray hear… For disasters of the kind you don’t need Nosterdamus. Ask me.

Or ask my friend. Or my friend’s friend. We all know it.

So, I am in France, I am in Paris and when opening a French Marie Clair I expect something new. Definite solutions, for example. In stead, as at home where there would be a pharmacist that would speak about spectacular innovation and guaranteed visible results in ten days here it is this different: la pharmacienne a parle d’innovation spectaculaire et garanti des resultats visibles en dix jours. You understand my problem?

It is hard to find really new and exiting cellulite products, but also other things, when you are not nineteen anymore.

Blame me for my ingenuity but I thought that in Paris even my cellulite ass would be cuter. Blame me, but I thought that the gothic church in Paris would be older, grass greener, ice creams, cakes, baguettes.. minus three hundred calories.

Luckily, there are still some things that bring my spirits up on MySexLifeInParis, that are not monotonous, not already seen, tried and hated: remember cheese Tourteau? It is important. Please, all of you that can get your hands on this delicious food - DO!

...

And these?

Have your eyes jiggled at the site?

Visuals like this are food for my eyes.

But.. and here I go again:

FASHION AWARENESS

It is one of those terrible stereotype musts that entered in our awareness a couple of years ago, I suppose mainly under the enormous social influence of Sex and the City TV serial. Nothing ever did so good to the fashion industry as that show, on the other hand I don’t know how much it really made good to the women – only propagating the idea of fashion linked to the names of expensive designer collections instead of affirming the idea of style, which by the way is fashion awareness (minus designer bluntness). Anyway, fashion in Paris exists and I know it because I read magazines and I watch television and I window shop. The end of fashion. Of course, there are plenty of really well dressed women, but the problem is that those that are not well dressed, and they are a lot.. absolutely lack awareness about dressing – so the term fashion awareness popped out as a necessity. It is mostly or exclusively the case with the way the immigrants in the city dress. And when you say immigrants it is like saying the way every second person dresses.. in some areas. Many.

I am sorry to say, but the way a lot of immigrants dresses screams for fashion awareness. I don’t think it has much to do with being unable to afford the cloths, but with the general condition they find themselves in. So:

Multiculturaly Immigranting Paris

There are many immigrants in this city.. and these people live in quite neglected areas and they seem sort of unhappy. I am sure that there are many successfully integrated immigrants that live happy lives… but, it is also truth that there are many people here that don’t live a happy life, that seem to be left alone to them selves and sort of neglected.

What I am trying to say is that in this city many seemingly unhappy people live, I suppose a lot due to the shortage of good integration policies or I don’t know what… But there is a problem, and a quite numerous problem: people that live here but are unhappy about their status, their life, their position in the society and because of that are sort of passive or aggressive in different ways, fashion included.

THE SHOES. I am calling this picture The Shoes as the ultimate word I have on the shoe subject. But, I am opening a financial subject – SPONSORS WANTED. I am willing to put 100 out of 300 euros price of these beauties and goodhearted people from the world, friends and family are invited to contribute with their offers. As you can see on a picture it is for a very good cause.

14 JULLIET

Is a French National Holliday and my Birthday. Well, it was nice - a usual birthday my stile.. only this time I did not cry as much. I don’t know what was wrong with me. The French with all the Mediterranean nations that Sarko invited were celebrating. In fact 14 July is a nice date for me because it is related to the 18^th century which is one my favorite historic periods and in particular with the French revolution, that is its sublime ideals… but the way they have in mind to celebrate and the way I have in mind, differ a little bit. To celebrate they promote what is consensually considered the biggest evil and the threat of the world – weapons.. soldiers.. the WAR. That is celebration? Think twice, please.

I had to do something - in the evening a beautiful fireworks were made for my birthday.

Today we remember my grandmother... more or less just as every other day. All female members of my family swear that a day doesn’t pass without her yelling at us… always lovingly trying to improve us.

She was passionate and generous, she loved life and we miss her a lot.

She was and is the Best.