Eurotrippin!

Bon jovi from France snitches! For those that don't parle the francais, that means good jovi from the land of lovers. Aside from mastering the language that sounds like you're trying to talk while your tongue is numb, I've learned a number of fascinating tidbits from our neighborly Statue of Liberty gift-givers. For example, Parisians love their McDonalds and are willing to wait in long lines and shell out 9 bucks for Royal with cheese. See Pulp Fiction for translation.

I've also learned that French iPhone users don't buy unnecessary casing for their expensive handhelds. Instead, they're economical and use a latex condom for extra protection that still allows for sensitivity. I shit you not, the touch screen still works through the lubricated film while protecting the phone from VD and pregnancy.

Lastly, I've learned that Paris is not Tokyo and the likelihood of random bystanders understanding English is far greater. I really can't get away with blurting out random interjections on a packed subway car like "my nipples are on fire!" or "French people fear America!" Fortunately though, my only punishment was to be dressed as an ostentatious clownish Louis the XIV and parade around the Arc De Triumfe on a unicycle. That was fairly tame. What's else you got for me Frenchies?

Onward to Barcelona!