Best laid plans...

Ok, I thought I was to have an early night in last night, but this is Paris. I thought the "City That Never Sleeps" was New York or Vegas, but no, it's actually Paris. Not that I stayed out that late last night, but I'm trying to make a general point. I'm pretty sure I am the only person in this city with an actual job...

So back to last night. Despite my desire to go immediately home after work, put on my comfy pants (in the safety of my living room where the French women cant see me), and do some vegging, Mirko convinced me to have a drink with him and his boyfriend. Now let me set the scene...

There's the backdrop: Paris, more speficially, Indiana, a bar in the Bastille area.
There's me: a completely fabulous, not quite as fashionable or aneroxic, but on my way (well to the fashionable part), Carrie Bradshaw - Paris Season.
And then there's my drink dates: Two gay Italian men, so well-groomed that Paris Hilton's dog would be jealous. Completely decked out in Dolce glasses, Dior belts, and suits that must have been hand-stitched directly onto their bodies. The European sophistication was oozing out of their non-existent pores.

Perfection like that can only exist in Europe. I felt like I needed to spend 72 straight hours at the salon just to be sitting at the table. Thank god we only got one drink or I may have given up on myself completely.

Fortunately, I returned home to my slightly more casual roommate and friends for some R&R and a movie. I'm incredibly sad that I have to look for a new place to stay. Today was spent scouring the apartment ads: Craig's List, Soleger, Paris Attitudes, Appartager, you name it. I went to see one tonight. It was nice, but expensive, and residing on a residential side street (albeit off a great main street), is not my idea of the best Parisian city experience...