Just another Saturday at the Erotic Museum...

Keep scrolling for more like what's right below...

BUT before we get to the good stuff...

We started off the day innocently at Mont Parnasse. It's the only skyscraper in Paris. While it's a monstrosity to look it, but it has a pretty sweet view from the 56th floor. Disappointing in comparison to other views just because the other monuments are cooler to climb (not that I'm really complaining about the elevator instead of stairs). There is an outdoor terrace on the roof, pretty effing windy up there. I stupidly wore the same ill-fated dress that I wore on the roof of the Orsay Museum = big time flashing. Please notice pictures are all waist up. After I sufficiently offended France yet again, we went back to Bastille for some Lebanese food. The kefta sandwich (I know, I cheated on the schwarms) was to die for and the waiter loved us. He was from Algeria and made us speak French the entire time. He encouraged us to actually have conversations amongst ourselves in French. It kind of worked but made me realize how much I don’t know. Eek. Oh and he gave us free baklavah! J’adore.

Tour Eiffel, you're so fine.
You're so fine you blow my mind!

Breathtaking, admit it.

History quiz of the day: What building is this picture of?!
Hint: It houses a tomb of a past french ruler with short man syndrome...

Les Invalides!!
aka Napoleon Bonaparte's final resting place.
You'd know that if you read my other posts...

Don't worry, my dress is tucked in between my legs.
And yes, I am holding on for dear life. That shit is scary.

Dear Mom, Dad, Grandma, Bettie Locke, or any other person who still considers me their little girl,

If you've managed to get a hold of this blog (that I've been cleverly keeping from you) please do us both a favor and stop reading. Please, it's for your own good. I want to be able to look you in the eyes again someday.

Love,
Kim. Your little sweet, innocent darling daughter/ granddaughter/ arch nemesis (that's for you Bettie)

Back to the adventure...

(Umm. No thanks.)

We then scurried off to the Erotic Museum (!!!) which we’d bee WAITING to do on a Saturday because supposedly there’s a “surprise” on Saturday afternoons. Of course, I think TRANNY and put it on my “Do NOT Miss” list. This museum is 5 floors of sex. I’m not talking making love, I’m talking dirty, nastly, probably illegal F%*$ing. Believe me, it was not exciting but more revolting people actually think to put THAT, in there. The 5 floors depicted different cultures getting dirty. My favorites were the depictions of nuns. My least favorites were the paintings of families who had their young children "helping" with the act. It's funny seeing nuns and their bad "habit"s (sorry, another bad pun. had to) but it's not funny seeing an interactive, hands-on demonstration of sex between a family. Stick to the akward "Talk" people.

Umm yea. This was the tamest thing I could find.

Naughty Nun.
The next big sexy halloween costume, just wait

On the 3rd floor we noticed a middle aged man wearing leather boots, a black mask…and a leather diaper with a belt and zipper that went from butthole to bellybutton. Nothing else. We had a good giggle thinking “sweet, that’s the Saturday surprise!” and kept perusing the Kama Sutra sextion. We noticed that he followed us to the 4th floor and then the 5th as well. Hmm maybe leather diaper man was a fellow museum goer and we misjudged his outfit? Oh no, we were sooo wrong.

He then cornered us and proclaimed “Sit here, and I will perform for you”. We dind't really have any other options, so we sat down. Being the silly naive American girls we are, we get out our one dollar bills (not knowing really where I’d put them) and wait for others to gather for this “show”. I was hoping there’d be more dancers complete with booby tassels and whips to make it less awkward.

There were no booby tassels to cushion the blow.

The performance was just for us…in a small corner of the museum…and he intended to fully strip. At first I was intrigued thinking he had something even sillier on under the diaper, but as he groped himself and gyrated I almost threw up. I kept it down though (that baklavah was free, I couldn’t waste it!) He told us we could yell “stop” at any time. Christy looked over at me pleading to yell the safe word has he did his third bend and snap (we had a rear view) but I said - not sexually mind you - “wait a little longer, we can’t be rude!” He turned around to face us yet again, and began tugging at the zipper that would fully release the diaper.

"STOP! STOP! STOP!"

He giggled “I love my job”. Thank god it was over. Well, almost. We all regrouped and turned from crimson to normal colored again. I felt like my eyes had been violated in so many ways, but I wanted proof of this life changing dance soooo I asked for a picture. He sassily posed and we turn to leave..

but he says one more picture please...

turns to me hands me his leash and gets on his knees.

WHY ME, GOD?!

Instead of bolting like I should have, something inside me thought it felt so natural..so I stepped up and gave a sassy pose too. If only I had my leather boots and onesie. DAMN! After handing back the leash, I realized my place is not dancing with the leather diaper man, but it's somewhere far far away from him. I still can't sleep at night.

Photographic evidence of the mind molestation:

Why does he look like he's gonna eat me...or worse??
And why do I look like I'm ok with that?!
So many things wrong there.

Off to London town tomorrow...
but I still have posts to come on Giverny and the past week.
GET EXCITED!

Versighhhh

A Friday afternoon at the Chateau Versailles. Versighhhh because my feet STILL hurt 4 days later (I actually think I might have a stress fracture FML) and sometimes I wish I was royalty to eat cake all day and wear pretty dresses. I could do without the whole guillotine thing though...

The main gardens of the chateau:

Unreal, I know

First off, I bought a jacket and scrounged up closed toed shoes. Maybe I won’t look like the biggest tool at Versailles in the rain. Yay! Of course, it didn’t rain so we didn’t have to muck around in the mud. And I looked like a dbag in tennis shoes...yay?.

Oh and my first 50 pictures were also corrupted by iPhoto, so these are just a few. Starting with my new BFF...


We started with a tour of Marie Antoinette’s domain aka her Disneyland-esque playground. Louis XVI allowed the Austrian born Marie Antoinette (MA) her own private garden after it became clear she was uncomfortable in the lavish French court. Marie was engaged to Louis’s older brother at age 2 as a “peace treaty” between the ever feuding Austria and France. Her first fiance and future king fell victim to a common Versailles "epidemic" (most likely smallpox) resulting in his early death and her subsequent engagement to the infamous Louis XVI, aka Jason Schwartzman. The older bro ultimately got it better than his little brother. Something tells me smallpox > being kept on house arrest by an angry Parisian mob for 2 + years while you’re put on trial, slandered and hated by all of France and ultimately beheaded to the sound of a cheering crowd. Tough life for the royal family, that’s for sure.

A bust of the cheeky Queen herself...

Like I said before, these gardens were a gift from Louis to MA. The gardens were literally HER domain. You could only go there upon invitation from the queen herself (even the king couldn’t go in without invitation). She could actually let her hair down, spend time with her children and be a normal girl. She was queen from 15-19, she wanted to be a teenager - not ruler of France! Anyway, the fact that it was her “private” domain led to the rumors that ultimately resulted in her beheading. One cartoonist in particular spread rumors that MA was a lesbian with her BFF. He exaggerated accounts of the two of them using a dildo, otherwise known as “an invention of the convent” (dirty little nuns getting freaky). He also implied bestiality and incest with her sons. Bet they didn’t teach you that in high school… During her trial she was accused of manipulating and corrupting her son and husband thereby ruining France and it’s future ruler. ALL of the allegations are completely false (at least have NO proof). In fact, she probably didn’t even have an affair (as portrayed in the movie). She was a good Catholic queen. Her biggest flaws were being a shopaholic and probably TOO naïve. If she’d said, “let them eat cake” in all seriousness because she didn’t know any better. If they can’t afford bread, why not give them a substitute?! Silly Marie. But there’s not even proof that anything like that was even said. More embellished stories. Luckily gossip doesn’t result in beheading too much anymore.

The start of the domain:

Little town...little quiet village...each day, like the one beforeeeee...

Moving on from my rant about Marie and singing Beauty and the Beast… we took about a 2 mile trek (not exaggerating) to the actual gardens and started at the petting zoo. Ok so you couldn’t actually touch the animals but there were so many of them! Little baby sheep, pigs, chickens, horses, giant St. Bernards, bunnies, roosters, etc etc. so fun. From there we went to her dairy and by all these other silly little houses and gazebos built just for MA. She liked “playing peasant” and even had extravagant milk maid dresses made for her. Next we wandered to the Temple of Love and her grotto.

We wanted the sweet house in the background buuuut the pond will do.

See the GIANT dog, those are humans standing by him.

Temple of Love with an angel.

...and a statue.

While the Temple of Love souuuunds interesting...snore. The statue wasn't even remotely provacative and she probably didn't really even have an affair. The grotto was actually the most fascinating area of her domain (in my opinion). It’s this little damp cave hidden in the heart of her gardens. It was the one place she used to be alone. Actually, it’s where she was hiding when the Revolution broke out and, eventually though the mob forced the king and queen to the Tuileries Palace in Paris (inside Paris of the suburbs outside it). The grotto was dark, wet, and cold. I don’t know why anyone would spend extended amounts of time in there. Plus I can’t manage her maneuvering it in her dresses.

On my way into the grotto.

I wanted to be saucy like MA

Next up we saw her theatre (she really did like to perform for people) and, of course, her own little house. It was charming and simple. Much simpler and homier than the grand Versailles palace…

INSERT PICTURES HERE.

HER HOUSE.

HER THEATRE.

OH WAIT, THEY WERE CORRUPTED.

COOL.

After the 3 hour trek around the gardens, we schlepped BACK to the main palace for a 2 hour tour of the inside. And Versailles is NOT a small place. Versailles should really invest in a monorail, the tram is sweet but Disneyland still got you beat. Oh and our program was too cheap to take the tram aka forced us to walk everywhere (and didn't feed us!) RUDE.

The Versailles Palace was initially just a hunting chateau for the king when he had a free weekend. Louis XIV (the sun king and probably France’s best king. That’s 14th NOT 16th the one who was beheaded aka Jason Schwartzman) had a very traumatic childhood IN Paris so he wanted to move OUT of it to keep himself safe. He was only 4 when there was a pseudo revolution, knon as the Fronde (translated as “slingshot), broke out with support of the nobles, who were loyal to the highest bidder Anyway, he became king at age 5 when his father died and as soon as his regent, Mazarin, died, he moved out to Versailles. He reigned for 77 years, the longest in French history. He never forgot the duplicity of the nobles and very cleverly dealt with them.

He had an apartment built for the nobles and you could only live there if he invited you. He established a social norm that you were only “someone” in nobility if you were invited to Versailles to drink and gamble. Not getting invited or not attending was social suicide. The Sun King’s ulterior motive was to keep all those who could potentially plot against him right under his nose…and he took all their money with gambling (in turn, they even asked HIM for loans to keep gambling). Hey nobles...OWNED. And to keep the people from spreading rumors (his ill-fated great-grandson should have taken notes) he made it mandatory that he be watched all day long. Ya, even when he was dropping the kids off at the pool he had an audience. Sounds intrusive, but it worked. He was a G.

The only thing in Versailles that wasn't sold on peasant e-bay during the Revolution:

Sweet wall paper. I bet MA picked it out.
Some wall. I lost track of specifics.

SUN KING: So clever little Louis XIV was obsessed with the sun because of it's symbolism, the earth revolves around it, yada yada yada...sun = you're the center of the universe (As every king should be. Esp. France) Anyway, the sun also meant symbolism of Roman gods (Neptune, Venus, Mecury...all planets and gods...get it now?!) So every room leading up to his chamber was a depiction of a different Roman/ Greek god. It was pretty sick until Louis XIV had a picture of himself painted as a roman god type. We're talking toga and grapes and looking questionably homosexual. Weird man, stick to the pompous pictures where you're wearing a cape and heels. Much more manly.

Very hetero...
naaahht.

I didn't snap a picture of the toga picture.
I was too busy trying to stay awake during the tour.
Such a long day.

Lastly, the epic HALL OF MIRRORS is created facing the West so that when the sun sets on August something (the exact date correates with the suns position in the universe) right when it dips to the horizon the entire hall is emblazoned with glorious light. Sounds craaaazy sweet, but I'm guessing it blinded a few people over the years. Sorry I can't remember specifics, it was a lot to take in on one day!

So I finally got the courage to take a cheeseball picture of myself...

And that BEEZY had to ruin it.

View from the Hall:

While I want to continue raving about all the different rooms in Versailles, as I think about them I get tired again. I'll end with some fabulous pictures of the gardens, look closely at the sky. No photoshop, I swear!

BEHOLD...VERSAILLES!

Lastly...the glamor shot...
Ok so I'm haggard. Do you get HOW tiring this day was yet?
And FYI, I was TRYING to look like I have a mane.
Or something like that.
Oh and that's the sweet house I didn't get in the other picture above.

Eiffel TOUR

We finally reached the top of the most popular of all monuments…the Eiffel Tower!!!…or Tour Eiffel if you’re French (like me). We walked to the second level (and I almost died mind you to the SECOND level) and watched the sunset and Paris become the city of lights. It was so romantic, I was so glad I was there with my boyfriend who then proposed to me. Oh wait, that was just a mural they have at the top. Cool.

My boyfriend(s).

We took about 700 pictures because as the sunset Paris looked just a little different and always, always amazing. You can see EVERY monument - Arc de Triomphe, Trocadero, Sacre Cour, Les Invalides, Schwarma rotating in the storefront windows and everything else in Paris. The night started out beautifully and as we ate at the little café inside and watched a storm brewing in the horizon. We couldn’t capture it on film, but we could literally see lightening bolts turning the sky pink on all four sides. They were getting suspiciously closer and after the tower sparkled (it was nuts being inside of it when it was sparkly. Think giant strobe light. Not gonna lie I was a little afraid of having a seizure) we decided to peace out at JUST the right time. It didn’t just rain, it POURED. I think God was angry I took drunk pictures in front of Notre Dame. He means business in Paris. We were literally about to be swept into the Seine (we’re talking branches falling on our heads, torrential downpour and people were probably getting struck by lightning) a magical metro stop appeared and THANK GOD for public transportation underground. We beat the bulk of the rain AND made it home almost unscathed. Can’t wait for Versailles tomorrow in the STORM of the century. I still only have a cardigan and opened toed shoes. COOL.

Oh and did I mention that I took over 3 million pictures (otherwise known as 176 pictures) but iPhoto corrupted all but the 3 I edited. COOL. So the only pictures I have from this epic night are the ones with no view and that I edited my bullfrog chin / shiny forehead. And now I just told you I airbrush my pictures. God I'm embarrassing.

This one I only lightened, the rest is true beauty.
Haaaha

Well, I guess I couldn't really get rid of the bullfrog chin no matter what setting I used.
Ribbit ribbit.

P.S. as I’ve been typing I’m sitting here in my dorm with my windows open listening to the rain. It’s also super hot so I’m not wearing any pants. There have been flashes coming in my window and I assumed it was lightning (there was thunder and rain…safe assumption) as I went to close my blinds I noticed a creepy old man on his balcony. Coincidence? God I hope so.

Bastille Day and I LOURVED it.

Forget marathon day drinking at Newps, it’s all about Fireman’s Balls! Get your mind out of the gutter, they are dance parties put on by the fireman of Paris! Every fire station in the city becomes a dance party complete with men in uniform and free drinks. Sounds like an amazing, unforgettable night right? Yea, well I wouldn’t know. Here’s what went down….

The evening started well, little pregaming in the dorms (just like back in the day and my room is right by the RA. I know, what am I 18 again? Hell nah, still 21 bitches!). We left fashionably late because in Paris, the majority of people don’t even eat until 10 pm and probably go out around 1am, Bastille Day wouldn’t be any different right? Wrong. Apparently you line up for that shit at 8pm. Thanks for the memo, Paris. Ugh, anyway, we couldn’t find the fireman’s balls even though they're huge (that’s what she said) and the lines were about 3 hours long even if we had. Danielle, Christy, Kyndal and I ended up roaming the streets St. Michel. We started bar hopping but clearly ended up at schwarmaaaaa. Mmm mm good.

Photo shoot of how the schwarms makes us feel.

Danielle: like a baller, Christy: like a Gremlin. Schwarma-see, schwarma-d0 Kyndal: A little overwhelmed but always worth it & Kim: feeling of... intimacy (are those tears in my eyes?)



We also stumbled upon the Notre Dame in our late night travels, I have to say being inebriated at a church is quite the experience…and I don’t think I’ve EVER been hit on that much in my life. I’m not really sure what to think about that one, but I made sure not to touch the church or say anything too inappropriate (followed by crude hand gestures) so I wouldn’t completely offend everyone around me in my usual fashion. The night ended fairly anticlimactically, no firemen just lots of girl time and schwarms. I’m not really complaining.

Blurry, like my vision perhaps?

J/k, I was basically sober by then.
Seriously, God. I was.

The next day Christy and I decided to forgo the fireworks AT the Eiffel Tower (we’re crazy, I know) buuut it’s about a 35 minute metro ride (and probably a 3 hour walk) and most metros weren’t running and I’m lazy. Plus we had class at 9am the next day and the show didn’t even start until 11pm and I’m still lazy. Plus it gave me even more reason to come back, (as if I needed more incentive, psh) Anyway, we did wander towards Pont Neuf (a bridge over the Seine) to see the spectacle, I guess I’m not THAT lazy. It was breathtaking even from that far away. We were in the midst of seasoned locals who didn’t want to brave the crowd but did want to celebrate. The banks of the Seine were COVERED with fireworks onlookers, pretty amazing. Not gonna lie it beats sitting at Tustin High or passing out before seeing them.

Pont Neuf Pre-Sunset:

Pont Neuf post-sunset:

The man directly next to us was the epitome of a French old guy (I was surprised he wasn’t in a baree with a striped shirt and a baguette on a bicycle) he keep oohing and aahhing and doing the “hee hee hee ha ha ha” laugh from Little Mermaid. You know, the chef who is trying to cook Sebastian? “Hee hee hee ha haa la poisson, la poisson” La poisson = fish. I’m so glad I finally understand my Disney movies now. Speaking of Disney movie songs, every time I go in a bakery (boulengerie) I want to jump up on the counter and proclaim “Marie. The baguettes. Hurry up”…then jump on a nearby fountain and sing “There goes the baker with his bread like always, another morning just the same!” Clearly reenacting the beginning of Beauty and the Beast. Unfortunately, I don’t have the courage to order food let alone bust out in song and dance…yet. Don’t even get me started on how excited was when I could translate the actual meaning of the Lady Marmalade song. Oh those silly whores…

FIREWORKS:
wayyy cooler in person.

Fireworks setting on my camera
=
Looks like I'm on E

Anyway, the night went well ending with a photo shoot at Hotel de Ville. I was thinking that it was the grandest hotel I’d ever seen, but learned in class today it’s actually city hall.


On Wednesday, Christy and I decided it was time to finally brave the granddaddy of all museums, the Louvre. I set myself up for epic disappointment based on everything I heard, but I was pleasantly surprised. We went on Wednesday after 6pm (as suggested by the brilliant Arthur Frommer), got in free with our faux art history passes (cheating the system baby) and started the trek. We decided not to even pretend like we were just gonna peruse, we had a mission. We started with the Venus de Milo and other sculptures from antiquity. To me, sculpture seems like the hardest art medium, and no not just because it’s stone (pun intended), but because of how they manipulate it. All I want to do is touch it, but that’s a big no no. Rude. This large German man got all up on a statue and I wanted to see the ladies who yell “no flash no flash’ tell him “no touch, no touch” but he not only got to touch the statue but take pictures with it. Sometimes I wish I were a large intimidating German man. But most of the time I don’t.

Venus de Milo:

I wonder if the girl is happy about this or not,
if only she had her head

Looks like a sleeping woman right?

It's actually a sleeping hermaphrodite...

Next we were on a hunt for The Turkish Bath which is supposed to be “an erotic idealized painting of overly friendly women lounging in a very crowded bath” but we couldn’t find it among all the Virgin Mary’s and baby Jesus’s, Jesuses? Jesusi? Whatever the plural is. We did manage to find a suggestive naked woman painted by Ingres…not quite the same as the one were supposed to be seeing, but we’re going to the Erotic Museum on Saturday so I think I’ll be getting enough naked women in one place.

What we THOUGHT was the Turkish Bath until I went home and looked it up:

The real Turkish Bath is basically an orgy.

We also failed at finding The Card Sharper or The Lacemaker (they were on display at other museums) uhhh rude? Didn’t they know we were coming? Couldn’t they take some OTHER paintings? Luckily we managed to find some gems along the way, so I was happy. My brief stint as an Art History minor made it fun to see up close some of the paintings I was supposedly studying during those quarters. We ended with a jaunt by the Winged victory of Samothrace and of course, Mona herself.

Three Graces

Louis XIV. SUN KING aaaand I forgot the other one already. But I recognized it from class...

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
I believe this image is now a watch ad.
A hidden gem.
Please try and count all the weird things about this picture.
Beginning with the exposed right breast.
Winged Victory:

Supposedly the Mona Lisa is the biggest disappointment in person, so I was expecting poop on a canvas but it was actually amazing. I barely had to elbow anyone for a front row view (I’m telling you we went at an ideal time). I still don’t totally grasp what sets it so much higher than the others, but I think anything Da Vinci did should be set higher than the others. Plus she’s had a tough life. She was stolen by a Louvre employee in 1911 (he put it under his coat and walked out. Yea, it’s that small) and it was missing until 1913. What was that employee thinking? Was he gonna sell it on ebay? Or hang it above a bathtub? Funny because that was it’s original location when it was owned by Francois I. Oh and she was severely damaged in 1956 when some crazed fanatic threw acid on her. Poor Mona looks good for all she’s been through. And those eyes…she’s got crazy eyes.

Shoddy quality because of the class and distance, buuut

I proudly present:
The Mona Lisa!

All in all, I lourved the Louvre and I lourved the schwarms on Bastille day.

Paris, you are SO cool!

She is mine.
Bahaha.