Happy belated Australia Day

Apparently January 26th is Australia Day (like 4th of July, I think?) and so I celebrated at the WOS Australia Day Beach Party (a lot of fun when it's literally freezing outside) in my new favorite Paris souvenir, my official WOS Bar bikini.  Good times had by all, although the next morning (and the whole day after) was not as much fun.  I'm getting too old for this.

Day 26: me and Matty, my favorite
Scottish barman/wearer of kilts

No, I was not the only one in swimwear, although the background of this picture would seem to imply that.  Most of the guys there were people I knew or had met before, regulars to the bar, and the door man Issa wasn't letting in any guys that the bartenders didn't know or guys without girls with them.  So the creepers were kept at bay and it was a pretty comfortable atmosphere, with a few girls rocking the full bikini (I turned my dress into a skirt and wore it for most of the night, it's hard transitioning to swimsuit season when I've been covered wrist-to-ankle, Puritan style all winter).  The guy in the picture is Matthew (aka Matty by many) from Scotland.  He works at WOS and was actually wearing a kilt ("Scottish beachwear," or so he says).  Thankfully all the guys that dressed up were in board shorts (or kilts) and not speedos, which I'm told the French prefer.  Alex repped Florida with a frattank. (note to Mom and others: if you don't know what a frattank is and decide to do a google image search for "frattanks," one of the first things that comes up is a tank that says "Party with sluts"...these are not the kind of frattanks I am referring to.  This was a much classier frattank, if you can have the words "classy" and "frattank" in the same sentence. Don't judge Alex based on that google search alone.)

Day 27: I hope he hammers his thumb

Anyway, so the late night (thanks to missing the metro) and the hangover were not the only reasons my morning was unpleasant; apparently someone thought it was a good idea to give this neanderthal a hammer and let him loose in the courtyard of my building every morning at 8 am. I hate him.  He's actually hard to see in this picture but it illustrates my point.  Why are you out to get me with your banging and drilling, construction man?  WHY?  I guess normal people have normal jobs and are probably awake by then anyway, they are just jealous of my ability to sleep all day if I wanted to (the grass is always greener on the other side kind of thing...if they only knew about my job).  

Speaking of my job, I found my keys, they were in the little red pocket just like I thought.  Aren't I clever, figuring that out?  What really would have been clever would have been me paying attention to what I was doing with someone else's house keys.  Christine did tell me they would be expensive to replace, so I'm glad I don't have to foot that bill.  I like feeling competent again.

Oh, and I forgot to add these photos of some urban wildlife (contradiction in terms? perhaps) I found while photographing the deceivingly-named Palais des Congrès the other day:

  This was in the little park in the middle of the intersection in front of the building, it's literally an island in the middle of a roundabout they've converted to a miniature park.  How in the world did these poor little bunnies get there through all the horrendous traffic?  I wonder if they are being put there to make Parisians feel more connected to the "country" they seem to love so much.  I kind of felt like I was on one of those private hunting properties, where they stock up on animals just so people can gun them down.  Doesn't seem like hunting if you have to bring the animal to you, I thought the point was to go find the animal, but hey, whatever it takes to remind you you're still on top of the food chain.  I always liked rabbits, too bad I'm allergic to them and they make my eyes itch.  It really makes me sad when I go into pet stores.  Maybe I'll try again one day, I know a woman whose allergies seem to just come and go.  Maybe mine has hopped off somewhere else.

One last thing: hungoverowls.tumblr.com is my new favorite way to waste free time.  Who knew owls made so many hungover faces?  The guy who made this blog apparently.