A little Joey Lawrence expression of surprise sums up my state of being right now. I finished my last exam a little less than an hour ago and I am both relieved (they're over), excited (I have 2 weeks of movies, dinners, walks, and lounging ahead of me), proud (I kicked ass on my exams and I have the grades to prove it), and a little confused. I feel like two months of my life have passed with absolutely no time for anything but studying. I realized that I am incapable of multi-tasking. I am incapable of taking classes "just for the visa." I am not a recovering perfectionist, but a well-anchored obsessive who fortunately isn't peeing into jars and repeating "way of the future" over and over again. Then again Howard Hughes wasn't doing that at age 25, so maybe I have a lot to look forward to.

Ok, perhaps I am not so one-track, as I have obviously been to the movies recently, as well as to the Holocaust Memorial that was opened last week in Paris, a bar tour of rue des Dames, and lots of other fun stuff. I have lost little sleep, despite my workaholicism. We hosted Turkish friends Uraz and Oya for a week, which was...wild. I have been having dreams reminding me to contact people who I haven't in a while and will soon. Promise. Even my parents haven't heard from me in a month. So don't feel bad.

Ok, I am going to heat up my fish curry that I made yesterday. Add some chicken satay and a bamboo shoot salad and we have a victory meal on our hands. Long live leisure!

So, I have my first set of finals next week. I have 4 in two days. Then two more after that. I am studying and studying, between house guests and rehearsals and odd jobs, but I am not making any progress. I know that if these damn classes were in English, I could glance at my notes once and be fine. But they're not and it makes me nervous. So, if Mandounette seems a bit snappy, you know why. I do not deal well with stress. That's why I moved to France. To avoid stress. But this joie de vivre is all an elaborate lie.

So, yeah, I fell off. Pushed by a cheese plate that refused to be consumed without an accompanying glass of wine at a hip little bar à vins near Place Léon Blum. What could I do? I was helpless against its pull.

At least my fall was graceful. It wasn't like I broke the detox with a kegger. And 20 days ain't bad. I figure I'll do a week of detox every few months to recalibrate myself and slow down the train wreck.

But in any case, I'm back!

Yesterday, I made more money in one day than I have made in the past year in a half. Boy it feels good. I am going buy a couple of CDs and have that student ID card replaced (lost it somewhere along the way.) So, how you may ask, did I make this money? Well, it seems I am a natural at the coatcheck. I took the coats from lots of French ministers at an event honoring Simone Veil, a French political woman (there are a few of them), who was responsible for winning the legalization of abortion in france in the 1970s. I took her coat.

In any case, politicians pay good money and my young ladiness got me a lot of tips for simply hanging people's furs and leather jackets and giving them a number. I had a fun time watching the reactions of the bourgeois Parisians to my American-style service with a smile. A few people responded in kind, but most people seemed bewildered. Women found it nearly impossible to look me in the eye as I handed them their number (smiling) and the men seemed to feel like they should give me money. One man asked me how much he owed me, so I said "well, about 50 euros should do it." I forgot that French people often don't get sarcastic teasing, so he simply took out a 5 euro bill and gave it to me. I should've refused, but I didn't. People have to pay for their lack of humor.

I also gave a class, which pays quite a bit too. I kind of like the odd jobs career path i find myself on. You definitely meet a lot of interesting people. My newest possible student (she's in Japan right now, but will call when she gets back), is an art historian who specializes in the restoration of painting.

So, if anyone knows of any coat checking or dogwalking or plant watering or ticket selling or tree planting or auctioneering or heavy equipment operating or flyer handing outing or babysitting or english teaching or catering or house painting or, better yet, housesitting gigs in the Ile-de-France region, let me know. I can make miracles happen.

Waiting at line to have tea at Mariage Freres, this afternoon, while I was searching for a sack of Marco Polo? Here's one clue.

He's an action transvestite.

That's right. It was Eddie Izzard and I tried to be cool, but I have to say that I kept going to "search" the shelf near him, picking something out, then "looking around for Stephane." Eventually, I had to go find Stephane and make him confirm it, which he did. It was one of the greatest moments of my sorry, pathetic life.

The Fraggle Rock : Season 1, is going to be released this fall.

ALSO, Brian Henson is thinking about filming new Fraggle material. It could be interesting!

Read about it here (from Newsweek) or here (from Muppet Central).

From Brenda:

In today's (actually Wednesday's) NY Times, there's an article about security for the upcoming inauguration.  Below is a quote from Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge regarding not raising the terror alert from lemony yellow to pumpkin orange:

"This is the most visible manifestation of our democracy," Mr. Ridge said, adding, "So there's very little intelligence, but we're as vigilant as ever."

His candor is refreshing, don't you think?

The legendary site of 1 PM lunches of free samples and 1 AM games of hide-and-go-seek, has been rated the number one place to work in America by Fortune.

Wegmans Food Markets, a Rochester-based grocery chain whose motto is “employees first, customers second,” topped Fortune’s eighth annual list of the best 100 companies to work for in America, the magazine said yesterday.

The 89-year old, family-owned business credited with helping pioneer “one-stop shopping,” scored high marks on employee surveys of job satisfaction and communication with management, among the biggest factors in determining the list.  Runner-up was Gore-Tex fabric maker W.L. Gore of Newark, Del., followed by Republic Bancorp, a mortgage banker in Ann Arbor, Mich., biotechnology giant Genentech Inc. of South San Francisco, Calif., and Xilinx Inc., a chip maker in San Jose, Calif.

Above-average employee satisfaction has been a life-long goal, said Robert Wegman, the 86-year-old company chairman, who led the company to $3.4 billion in sales last year.

“I’ve been aiming for that for 54 years and it’s taken a long while to hit the target but I’ve finally got there,” he said.  “It’s hard for me to walk through a store without customers stopping me and saying, ‘Mr. Wegman, you’ve got a great store but, wow, are your people something else.’”

At Wegmans’ 67 emporiums, 32,800 workers are paid hourly wages at the high end of the market and offered a $3 per week health insurance premium, resulting in a 6% annual turnover rate among full-time employees, compared with a 19% rate among competitors.

Jam maker J.M. Smucker Co., number six this year, topped 2004’s list.  The company cut 200 jobs in November.

Celebrate here at Mandounette by sharing your favorite memories of Wegmans and/or some of your favorite Wegman's products.

I will start:

Memory: One of my earliest memories is being at Carol's Wegmans (the one on the corner of East Avenue and Winton Road, named after my first baby-sitter), sitting in the cart seat. My mom used to always let me get a cookie in the bakery at the beginning of a shopping excursion and eat it as she did her shopping. This time I was with Carol. She stopped the cart by the cookie display, while she went to the deli to order her cold cuts. I opened the glass door and took a yellow and brown happy face cookie and ate it before she came back. The next time I was at Wegmans with my mom, I noticed that she told the cashier that I had had a cookie and the cashier added the price onto the bill. It was then that I realized that I had actually stolen a cookie from Wegmans; that they weren't free. I feel guilty to this day.

Favorite product: the frosted sugar cookies that change with the holidays (I particularly fancy the St. Patrick's Day shamrock cookies) and of course their cakes with the buttercream frosting. Especially blue roses. Yum. Also, I like Dr. Woo and Moutain Woo (Wegmans brand sodas), if only for their names.

Stephane just tore a macaron out of my hands and threatened to flush it down the toilet. After head-butting him several times, I decided to take his suggestion and "have a fruit." I went to the fruit bowl and grabbed an orange. And beaned him with it.

So, I had my first alcohol-free night out on Saturday. I was nervous at first. What if I wasn't fun? Do people love me or the drunk version of me? I realized that I haven't abstained from drinking since 2000's bout with mono, and then I was hopped up on steroids and shisha for most of the month, so I was still pretty fun. So really, I am substance-free for the first time since, well, probably senior year of high school. That's 7 years.

There are many things that suck about abstaining, notably having no excuse for my conversational habits that often veer towards the odd and manic. I am also forced to wear my clumsiness like a birthday suit, stripped of the velvety accoutrements of sweet, wholesome alcohol. And while I don't feel like my personality was severely altered by my sobriety, I have to admit that I had to struggle a bit against the self-consciousness that could cloud my vision occasionally. Fortunately, with the exception of one not-funny Indian who either had to much to drink or is simply socially retarded (although he did inspire the Ste & Mandy Inside Joke of the Night...), everyone was super friendly, so I didn't have to work too hard.

On the other hand, I was able to carry plates without worrying and there was no risk of a hangover.

But beyond the liquor situation, the detox is going well. I am currently drinking a ton of water and yogi tea. A friend of mine suggested birch juice, so I am going to pick some up tomorrow. It sounds nasty, but she says it gets the job done. So far, it seems as though my energy levels definitely benefiting and I got rid of the holiday bloat quickly. The other thing that is awesome is that my immune system is megapowerful. I came down with a cold on Friday morning and by Saturday night, I felt great, without taking any painkillers or other medications. I also realized that pretty much all of my beauty products (deoderant, toothpaste, shampoo, etc.) are all organic. This kind of happened by default as I have slowly been making the change, but it feels like it completes the project.

There is one snag however. Sugar. I just can't give up the sweets. I am not an alcoholic. I am not a smoker. I am not dependent on caffeine. But I am addicted to sugar. Another friend suggested chromium-rich foods and/or supplements in order to maintain my blood sugar at a constant level, so I am going to give it a try. It will be the test to see if my sugar addiction is physical or psycho. Probably a comination of both, but it is definitely my health stumbling block.

But really, I feel great and I am not disappointed with this decision, even if I am not ready to do it completely or forever. I think the most rewarding part is getting to know my body's quirks.

For the first time in my life, I failed at school. Sure, I have seen a couple of C's in my life (well, one), and that was enough to force me to reevaluate my goals, change majors and give up a career in medicine for a career in leisure. But today, I actually got an 8/20 on a major project. Now, I guess I should feel ashamed of this, or embarrassed or something. But no, I feel smug. Why? Because this was the group project from hell, and every time I tried to make a suggestion, the other members of the group would gang up on me and tell me that I hadn't understood the assignment. I held my ground that the decisions they were making were wrong for a few weeks, but finally gave up when I saw that there was no getting through. I had to bite my tongue frequently to avoid getting personal during this debacle. Many of the complaints the professor had were points I had tried to bring up. Plus, the final product looked like something I would've produced on the Brother Word Processer my family had in the early 1990s. There was no introduction. All of this could've been avoided had my lovely colleagues sent me a copy of the final draft before turning it in. But alas. Although, I feel a certain "I told you so" superiority, I did fail in my own way. I failed at not being able to make myself heard, and that is pretty serious. But at least I'm not a moron.

Last night, coming home from rehearsal (I just joined a chorus), a young man who looked like a grown Ralphie sat a bit too close to me on the metro. Figuring it was just another example of inconsiderate French social behavior, I ignored him and continued reading Barrel Fever, smiling to myself as drunken Adolph butts in on his friend's AA dinner. Then Ralphie got in my face (classic close-talker) and asked me if the end of the line was Nation, and I said yes. Then he asked if I would help him to undo some of the buttons on his vest, because he was visually impaired (probably from his mother making him eat soap for saying the F-word.) I found this odd and responded, "Do you need to see to undo buttons? Can't you just feel them?" To which he replied, "Yes, but it would give me pleasure if you did it."

I said, "No, thanks," and moved to another seat, disturbed, certainly, but more amused because I had just been sexually propositioned by Ralphie. Also amused when failed molester ran off the train Dynamite-style at the next station, humiliated by rejection of his bizarre request. I wish I knew how to say, "No, I will NOT make out with you" in French. In retrospect, that's what I should've shouted out, so everyone knew there was a molester in their midst.

Cheers to Maya, our resident Londoner (Londonian, Londonite, Luddite...?) for this kickass site. Basically, this dude went around London taking pictures of dilapidated buildings, people, and other various sundry items. I haven't had a chance to look at all of it, but upon her recommendation I checked out the graffitti section. Also, really like the cemeteries. Report back with your favorite gallery. Also gives me some photographic inspiration for my upcoming Paris rue-par-rue exploration.

discover "Derelict London"

So, since moving away from Saint-Mande in July, I have not been to the pool, my favorite way to get some exercise and maintain my sanity. The pool in our neighborhood has been closed for renovations since we moved and just re-opened today. So I was there! Good news is that it is beautiful, clean, and cheap. Bad news...well, there is no bad news. Just the usual crowd of seniors, pregnant women, and perfectionist men who come on their lunch break. I did not run into one person during my whole 45-minute swim, which is unusual. Anyway, if there are any swimmers out there, I'd love some advice on shampoo/conditioners I can use that will help my hair deal with the chlorine. It kind of feels like I am wearing a poorly-made wig right now.

Today, 2 wonderful people celebrate their birthdays. Saul, the curious anthropologist who is celebrating on a plane to Barcelona, and Annika, the all-powerful perfume "chef de produit," who I will have the honor of celebrating with this weekend. If you know these people, be sure to send them your wishes! If not, I hope my little tags provoked your imagination a bit.

This morning, my train-line shut down for the second time in a month because someone threw themselves onto the tracks. I guess this time of year leads to a lot of suicides. Last year, a friend of mine's upstairs neighbor collected all of the dried Christmas trees that people had put on the curb in his apartment and set them ablaze, killing himself.

So, shuffled onto the platform with the entire populations of 5 trains, I found 4 classmates and we set off on a cross-suburban hiking adventure. Between the misty rain and the sound barriers that separate the highways from the Privet Drive-like neighborhoods and the housing projects built in the '70s, I started contemplating suicide myself. Not doing it, just the concept. I have never had truly suicidal thoughts (apart from the Huck Finn fantasies of who would show up weeping to my funeral.) There has been a great deal of suicide in my family, all before I was born, so hopefully I escaped that pattern.

But lately, I have to admit, I have been a bit depressed. Today's ordeal launched me back into the underwhelming reality of daily life and I began to identify with the track jumper. But in the end, I am always able to manage. I think basically I am an optimist, who keeps herself out of touch just enough not to stay down too long. I decided after today's fateful walk, that I need to let worries roll off my back a little easier. The anxiety will always be there if I look for it. I guess one of my projects during this lifetime is to learn how to break free from these limitations. But first...a nap. Damned jet-lag. It's kicking my ass.

After the holidays State-style, I decided I would salvage what was left of my figure, my skin, and my brain by doing a one month detox. That means no drinking, smoking, or coffee-drinking. No meat, no chocolate, and lots of fiber. Ok, well, at least less. At home I am being pretty successful. I found a natural food store up the street that has some yummy fiber-y snacks. Of course, last night at Stephane's mom's I was pretty much force-fed "fresh" foie gras and a galette de roi (king cake...Stephane was the king and I was the queen!). The cake was delish, but I am pissed that my good intentions were ruined by something as foul (both to the palette and to the conscious) as foie gras.

In any case, I invested in some Yogi Detox Tea, 20 euros worth of fruits and vegetables (if you're buying from an Arab at the outdoor market, this amount = A LOT), and some 6-grain bread. It seems to be cleaning the system well. Does anybody else have any suggestions for a successful, purifying detox? Nothing too crazy. I am not going to ask around the neighborhood for a home enema kit.

Each year, at some drunken point in the New Year's activities, I declare the alcoholic beverage of the year. This year, surrounded primarily by beautiful women and gay men, dressed as Edina from Ab Fab and noticing an astonishing 1-to-1 ratio of bottles of bubbly to partiers, the choice seemed obvious. I urge you all to consume a variety of champagne this year. Love it. Cherish it.

Past years:

2004: The Year of Rum, inspired by the bottle of spiced rum that my brother procured for me during his Caribbean cruise and a moment of convergence when, surfacing from the sticky, overcrowded drink station at Nikhil's with a rum and coke in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other, In Da Club came on and I kept shouting, "I'm gonna drink Bacardi, like it's your birthday."

2003: The Year of Tequila, I don't remember how this happened. Pretty typical phenomenon during the Year of Tequila.

Greetings to my hordes of faithful readers. I am here to reassure you that Mandounette has not abandoned you. In fact, Mandounette has a brain full of ideas for the blog this year including a couple of sublogs dedicated to dreams and to my urban exploration project. I feel that the tsunami dream that I had last month and the lower Manhattan building imploding dream I had in May 2001 are creepy enough to merit a written record of the weirdest levels of my sub and superconscious, not to mention that I really think that my dreams make good stories. I hope to also have extensive links to other quality dream blogs and some writing about how cultures not corrupted by Jung and/or mystical cynicism approach the phenomenon of dreams.

An article in The New Yorker, my new pedometer, and my OCD attraction to projects requiring patience, stamina, and highly controlled randomness have all contributed to my Parisian exploration idea. I plan to walk every street in Paris over the next several years. The guy in The New Yorker did Manhattan in about 4 years. Paris will most definitely be more challenging as there are a lot of little roads, impasses, and alleyways that radiate from roundabouts with very little organization. But it should be fun anyway. I am sure someone else has already done this, but I figure my observations will be different. The plan is to discover at least one little section of the city each week. This will hopefully start this week, although I have to fix the shutter on my camera and calibrate my pedometer. Each post will have number of steps taken, distance covered, a map highlighting the streets I finished and my observations including historical markers, cool places, and whatever I find worthy. I won't even go into the anal retentive way I have selected which area I am going to each week.

Oh, and did I mention that I will be creating these, as well as this very post that you are reading, from my very own iBook G4? The other computer was having a few too many senior moments, so Ste saved the day with this little present, which makes me very, very happy. Other presents from this year's orgy of consumerism include a slew of DVDs (In Living Color, Seinfeld, The OC, Lost in Translation, Ani DiFranco live, Marx Brothers Silver Screen Collection, etc.), some fun board games, and a loofah. I just wanted to mention the loofah to pay hommage to the 3, count them 3, screenings of Bad Santa that I saw over the past 3 weeks. I just remember the midget's "prune-faced mail-order bride" asking, "Did you get the loofah?"

From the team here at Mandounette and honorary guest personality, Thurman Merman, happy new year!