little buddies

So, my friend, my boyfriend, and my roommate thoroughly enjoyed the Eurotrash party we threw (French translation: Soirée Fashion, pronounced fa-SHUN), holding an impromptu walk-off ( Billy Zane: "It's a walk-off, people, it's a walk-off"), and shower gel advertising shoot. This is pretty much my life. No, not dressing up like a 13 yr. old going to the middle school dance. I mean, hanging out with my roommates, my boyfriend, planning parties and dinners and hikes to break up the montony of the work week (even if it is a paltry two day work week). Sometimes my life feels like the Little Rascals, but in French and with young adults. It's all shenanigans, albeit not very serious ones. I even have a dance showcase coming up, where I will reprise my roll as a cabaret-dancing austrich, as well as dancing in a modern ballet set to baroque music.

I only have a month left in France. I have the dance show, evaluations, and a wedding to get through, in addition to closing out the various accounts and welfares that might continue despite my planning ahead, which would be a big fricking hassle to deal with once back in the US.

I need a job. I think I'll go back to LA for a while, try to feel out the job market there. If I don't find anything good there, maybe I'll pack up the F-150 and move to the middle of nowhere. Like Portland.