1 1/2 oz. cherry brandy
2 oz. orange juice
2 oz. pineapple juice
splash of grenadine
(www.cocktailmaking.co.uk)
Pour over ice into a pint glass, garnish with an orange slice. Drink slowly while peering over the rim of your glass at other party-goers. Use as a conversation starter, or simply wait for the effects of the alcohol to loosen your tongue...
Alright, fans of French boy sagas! The newest episode is in, but it promises to be slightly less interesting than previous ones. Désolée. In fact, all I can really say is that I went to their concert, it was good but not stunning (I'm holding out for the 'Modern Folks' concert, which will include both Manu AND Dmitri); I was one of two people dancing (yeah, Caitlin!) in a sea of head-bobbers; Dmitri is actually really good and I would tend to disagree with Romain in calling him a "guy who hangs out with musicians". All in all, it was good clean fun; the party afterwards had to be cut short on my part because I had to go hiking with my students the next day. So responsible. Apparently I left right before a 4-hour dance party began; thanks Manu, for telling me you were putting on jazz so everyone would go to sleep!
For those of you who tuned in exclusively for the drama: Caitlin's boy didn't show up and has been M.I.A. for far too long, my recent rejectee was rather cold to me (but apparently said nice things behind my back, who DOES that?), and I ran into a dance partner from a former party, who was a very respectful dancer and won major points for that, but unfortunately I had had just enough drinks at the time to not really be sure now if he's "cute or not". Verdict is still out as he wore a winter hat with earflaps the entire time on Saturday. But I think we're going to call him...although would you believe a mixed-race, rap-loving great dancer could be named 'Gérald'?? Me neither.
It's hard trying to party with French people--it takes forever to get good enough at the language that you can hold witty conversations (see previous blog-entry) and more importantly, to be able to decipher the general cacaphony surrounding you. And maybe this is just in M&D land (God, I complained they were conceited and now they have practically a whole blog dedicated to them; I need to come up with a better appellation for the part of my life that they occupy), but C. and I were the only girls in the beginning of the party, and the boys stood around talking to each other and ignoring us! Maybe I'm just an attention hog, but please; it's tough enough being a foreigner, don't segregate us based on gender as well!
Plus I'm in this weird kind of limbo in terms of becoming friends with the whole gang; I'm definitely friends with C., who lives with some of them and wins their good graces through her lovely vibrant personality and culinary skills, among other things. So by default they must accept me, but we haven't exchanged phone numbers and if I get invited to do things, it's through C. (which, if you're reading this C., is just peachy!). But all this boils down to (and I know it's my insecurities talking), do they like hanging out with me, vraiment? I'm sure they do to some extent, but when people know you're only here for a year and then leaving, possibly forever, it does tend to mark their impression of you. So here I float; definitely not a groupie, but just sort of an incrusteuse, a word which comes from one of my fave French verbs: s'incruster. A reflexive verb, it means what it looks like: to "encrust" yourself onto others, to join a party you weren't really invited to. You just know the right people who know the right people.
Merci, C.
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