He's not really my type. What is your type, ugly?!

We went to the office tonight for the Paris program meeting/interview/dinner. It was a lot of fun. The interview went great, the woman was really nice and really helpful. Apparently there are tons of options for an internship in languages, but she split them into three categories:

1. translation
2. teaching
3. language and cultural exchange programs

She asked me to order them in terms of my interest, but I am so torn. I have time to think about it, so if you have any ideas, please, let me know.

After the interview, I was sitting in the office waiting for Sam to finish before the meeting when all of a sudden I hear "Jillian Flood!". I sat up straight. What the hell? Then the voice shouted "Smithfield, Rhode Island!" Everyone was staring at me. Then Marie-Eve came in and was like "Viens-ici!" so I got up and went into her office, completely befuddled. She then introduced me to the program director for the Paris program, Renee, who was like (in English!) "Guess where I'm from?" and I was like "uhh I don't know?", (but in my head I was thinking, Rhode Island, obviously) and she was like, "Lincoln!" It was CRAZY. We chatted about home for a bit, and it was so nice. She's really friendly and I think next semester will be tons of fun. It's such a small world.

We then all went out to a fondue place for dinner. It was great. All we had to eat was bread and cheese, but it was incredibly delicious. And then for dessert, Sam and I decided (okay, I kind of coerced her into it) to split a "Mr. Jekyll" which was described as a "lobotomy". Basically, it was like an ice cream surprise. We were kind of nervous, especially when we thought the waitress asked us if we were vegetarians after ordering it (it turns out she actually asked us if we were allergic to anything). It turned out to be really gross, but not in a it-had-meat-and-other-things-that-don't-belong-in-ice-cream-in-it sort of way. It was just weird, with gross candies and tons of fruit and some kind of liquor and blech. We did get some excellent pictures though.

After this we headed home. While waiting at Chavant, Sam and I were hit on by some sixteen year olds. These guys sit down next to us and start talking English. So we kind of humor them and answer their questions, etc. Then their other friend wearing this hideous blue track suit (what is with the French guys thinking that track suits are attractive?) saunters over and the guys on the bench are like "Hey! These girls are American!" and so he comes over to talk to us. He asks us how old we are and then he asks us if we know some singer, who we don't. Then he says, "Oh because he says in English, "I want to fuck you", and I want to fuck you." He laughs and is like "Oh no, just kidding" and hits me on the arm as I grimace rather politely and we walk away.

THEN we're sitting on the tram, and some guy sits down next to me. I am talking to Sam and do NOT look at this guy, because I can tell that he is staring at me, and making eye contact only invites conversation. And after our last French male interaction, Sam and I weren't exactly feeling friendly. So I kept talking, hoping that if I didn't stop, this guy would never get a chance to interrupt. Unfortunately, I ran out of things to say, and he butted in. Sighing internally, I turned to look at him and I almost screamed. IT WAS THE SKETCHY MOROCCAN MAN WHO WAS HITTING ON ME LIKE A MONTH AGO AND WHO I GAVE MY E-MAIL ADDRESS TO IN A PANIC BEACUSE I COULDN'T THINK FAST ENOUGH TO INVENT A FAKE ONE AND WHO E-MAILED ME TWO TIMES BEING REALLY SKETCHY AND TO WHICH I NEVER RESPONDED, OBVIOUSLY, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO END UP ON A MILK CARTON. Oh my god. Longest 5 minute tram ride of my life. Luckily he didn't talk that much. But seriously. Just my luck.