Here's the birthday report for those who asked for it :

In France, age 26 is not an anticlimactic birthday. It is a downright depressing one. It is the year when you stop getting your youth discounts everywhere...the movies, the museums, the pool, the metro. I spent the day before my birthday renewing every membership possible. I may be technically an adult, but I had more money during my days as Employee of the Month at Blockbuster than I do today, so I think this policy is bullshit. Instead of showing an ID or a proof of residence, I think they should simply ask to see a bank statement. I am sure mine would qualify for the discount.

Moving on to the day, it was a very tame birthday. It was my brother's last night in town and the 4 of us went to happenin' pastis Bar/Restaurant, where we we lucky enough to get seated on the terrace (it was a stunning evening weatherwise) and made our way through a number of types of pastis, a bottle of wine, and a lovely meal. Stephane and I both flirted with our Aries-Kate Hudson look-a-like waitress (I don't know why I liked her so much...). She laughed as she tried to make the candles stand up in the chestnut mousse that I chose for dessert. [IDIOT! Why did I choose that??? But it was oh-so-good.]

Next stop, Lizard Lounge (still my favorite anglophone safe-haven after all these years) for my annual birthday drink. But it was a Friday night and it was packed with drunk, young things. I ran into some friends, but was feeling too claustrophobic and guilty, spending such a nice night in a smoky, dark Parisian basement where people were snorting shots. (This has nothing to do with my recent exotic drink discovery called Russian Cocaine that I experienced for the first time last week at a bar called, in translation, The Alley Cat. Giddy-up!)

So, we headed toward the Seine and took in Ile de la Cite and Hotel de Ville at night. It will always be one of my favorite sites. Much like the view of the Empire State Building through the Washington Square Arch. Or the first glimpses of the Suspension Bridge at Cornell, seen through the late summer foliage. Then we booked it home to call our parents (because my brother and I pretty much share our birthday, this time of year was always dubbed "Christmas 2".)

As for presents, I once again made out like a bandit. [Although, I have never made out with a bandit, so I am not quite sure I know how one would make out. I bet if I stayed on Nerve for more than a month I could've found out...]

So, back on track, I am now the proud owner of Napoleon Dynamite, a luxurious Dutch Oven (I'm not kidding), a Cuisinart, and Dance Dance Revolution (I have already lost all that birthday cake weight!). Among other things of course. And lots o' cards. So all-in-all, it was a rousing success. Bring it on!