Definitely big news... I had my first epic experience in France last Thursday. EPIC!!!

Story time: On Thursdays, I have 4 hours free between classes, and Natasha and Elodie, who are totally mes copines, invited me to eat lunch at Natasha's house and then I could help them with their english presentation and they'd proof my french essay. Sounds simple enough... we catch a bus to Natasha's house at 12:15 and are there before 12:30, and Elodie and I play with her dogs and cat while Natasha makes us lunch. (She insisted that we stay out of the kitchen.) So we start eating lunch and Elodie makes the mistake of asking what the dark-ish spread on our toast is, and Natasha says she'll tell us after we finish it. My stomach instantly turns... And now I have to finish it, because I've started eating it and it doesn't taste bad, so we finish... yeah it was pidgeon tripe. *gag!* Anyways, we watch a movie, do our homework, and leave her house at 3:20 to catch the 3:45 bus in order to get us back to school before 4; our class starts at 4:10. At this point I am totally chill, these girls have the same bus mindset as me, and we're gonna be fine! Wrong. We get to the bus stop, wait, and wait, and wait, and by now it is 3:50 and the bus still hasn't shown and so we freak out a little and start walking. (remember, this is 10-15 minutes away from school on bus... so we walk, and then we run a bit, and then we run some more, and then we get lost, like you do when you absolutely need to be somewhere 5 minutes ago. So we're wandering around and our French teacher and her husband drive by... so we run yelling after them. Natasha explains our situation and they drive us to the base of the school. We run up the hill to school (this is all in 85-90* weather mind you) and up two flights of stairs to get to the attendance office so we can be marked late and let in to our class, but its closed, so we run back down the two flights of stairs, across the court, down another 3 flights of stairs, and start looking for our classroom in Bulding B. We finally find it and walk in, dripping sweat and panting and our whole class, including ms british english teacher, CRACKS UP. So we explain and everything goes over well in the end, but still... crazy day.


The moral of this story is: do not ask what you are eating. Ever.