Le chicken.

French Army Knife.

It I made a post about everything I did today it would take up your entire dash!

I met the chef of an amazing restaurant my brother is friends is with, he kissed my cheeks when we met, then when I left and I said a dish he served was the best meat I’d ever tasted he kissed my cheeks then went down on one knee and kissed the back of hand, in front of about 20 or so other people. I turner red and giggled a little.

I love cute french guys.

I don’t wanna analyse anything! Can’t the teacher just read it herself. It’s a nice poeme and everything, Anna De Noailles writes beautifully. But I would rather be sleeping, or tumbling, or riding a llama or something.