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Day 119: My Birthday. The Sequel.

Illustration by Erin A. Ellis


For my birthday, Phil is throwing me a party tonight to celebrate with my Paris Posse. I have the cheesiest playlist prepared and Aurelien, who is a bit of a music snob will definitely break up with me by the end of the night for my horrible taste. If he can weather the storm of my love for 80's freestyle, sleazy rap songs, and current pop music then I think we might just have a future together.

Last night Phil and I went out for Friday night pizza which brings me back to when I was younger and Friday night meant pizza, so every now and then I like to unleash my inner child who had unruly frizzy hair and braces and chow down on the greatest food in the world. And I'm not just saying that because I'm Italian. 

Upping the ante from grandma slices at Frantoni's, we went to Al Taglio in the Marais for pizza by way of Paris. Normally, I don't love Italian food here because there's always something random added that wasn't mentioned on the menu. For example, more often than not you'll find a raw egg that cooks and crackles and stares up at you on top of a heaping bowl of pasta like its obviously supposed to be there. No. It's not supposed to be there. Or 'they' try to Franco it up by sneaking in goat cheese in the hopes that it will just blend in with the mozzarella. Sir, it doesn't blend. Saying that Al Taglio has no cunning attempts to trick you because 1. They're amazing and 2. You order at the counter where you select your slice which is then cut from a large pie with scissors, weighed and delivered to your high-top table. Voilà. Feeling festive for the season, I ordered the irresistible jambon and pumpkin cream sauce slice while Phil went for the asparagus, crème fraiche and truffle oil slice. They were as amazing as they sound with each bite exploding with contrasting yet complementary flavors.  

While the case of the shady sublet is still in the works and there has been some movement but I'd like to wait before sharing any further details of this horrible person. I hate keeping things from you guys! All I can say is that it's a mess, the total cost of the missing items is now up to 10k as I realize more items are missing and I thank God that I'm such a Virgo who documents everything with lists and photographs.

Now I must figure out what I'm going to wear to my birthday party tonight because I just realized that what I had planned to wear has been stolen by my crazy sublet...pute.

7 comments:

  1. I know you can't say, but I do hope this little bitch gives everything back. It wasn't hers to take. How could she feel so entitled?

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  2. Does she know about this blog?

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  3. She stole your birthday party dress??!?!?!?!? This person is horrible. Real low class. She doesn't deserve to ever come back to France!

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  4. WHAT TRASH. I hope this girl doesn't try to get a job anytime soon.

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  5. Yeah, I'm pretty pissed about the dress I wanted to wear tonight. I'm trying to stay hopeful that she does the right thing and gives me back my belongings. She had no right to go deep digging through my things.

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  6. The next time, trust that little voice you heard about the box... I know we all have a tendency to disregard it thinking that it's silly, but it's not. Always trust your little voice or your gut. The world is full of creepy people, unfortunately! It's also full of wonderful ones, but we first have to learn to weed out the Katie Milleisens!

    You seem to be taking a crash course in weeding this year... first, the so-so relationship with MF, then the horrible girls who left you high and dry in your time of need and then that low-life thief. And to think you were called a low-life for standing up for yourself at the airport a month ago! Incredible!

    (Oh, by the way, I'm finally able to leave comments again! For a long time, the system wouldn't let me, for some reason:)

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  7. Thanks Duchesse. It's really great to hear from you again! Yeah, after this experience, I will ALWAYS listen to my inner voice. Now turning 30, I'm going to shake off my 20's doubts of fearing that I seem paranoid or that people will think I'm a bitch and do what seems right for me.

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