Back in Paris

life is hectic when you're the medical coordinator of a summer program for a bunch of spoiled suburban prada wearing american teenage primadonas.
point being:

i've noticed a lot of these girls are products of trophy wifes raising trophy daughters. they dress up in their skanky abercrombie miniskirts and walk around paris not realizing that this ain't no Westchester. Then they wonder why the boys on the metro keep yelling at them and making catcalls.

their medical problems are even more amusing. many suffer from a severe case of hyperchondria. The best example is probably the girl who thought the cyst on her wrist was a tumor. i had to calm her down and called a doctor. looks like Aleve (what the doctor prescribed) is really good at fixing wrist tumors.
and by all means, let's not forget about the kids who think a mere cold is the bubonic plague.

among the staff, there is already a certain amount of drama though nothing serious. for the most part, everyone gets along. my roommate is a half french half brit. finally, on my third visit, i have a bonafide french roommate who grew up in paris. the man's nose is seriously straight out of cyrano de bergerac though all the girls seem to dig it. and he's as tall and skinny as the eiffel tower (chuck came up with that one).

the most amusing part of the trip by far though is the vernacular of these kids. "like oh my God" is probably the expression i hear most. and why does every question have to be preluded by the phrase, "excuuuse me, but i like have a question:" for goodness sakes, just ask your dang question. i've even started telling them: New rule: you can't start questions with "i have a question..." Just ask your dang question, as long as you're not totally hypo-parasodic i will know that it is a question.

life is good...