suspended animation blue, blame it on the hard times.
((post-dates Rita's post a bit, but not much))
Poking around Paris by myself with my little man is pretty damn awesome, in the main. Sure, it's bloody hard work, but I didn't expect any different. But hey, it's good to just relax a little and have to do nothing but look after Mathieu.
Who...is nearly one, and I have no real idea what to get him. Partly because I'm tempted to get him everything he wants. But I can't afford that, so...improvisation. I'll have to...work on that one.
Still need to get rid of my rings. For fuck's sake, Abime, let go. Just let it go. She fucked you both over, get that into your head and stop loving her already. damn. I guess no matter of things looking up is going to stop this hurting soon. I'll just have to keep at it. Not let it get the best of me.
I wish Mathieu could talk sometime soon, it'd make me feel less...like I'm here in Paris on my own. I needn't be, though. Here in Paris alone, nearly on my second wedding anniversary.
It's not as easy as I thought. I also think I'm starting to go grey. Ugh.
Afternoon. I could do with a couple of favours. Firstly, and quite simply, tell me my wife's a bitch. Or anything on that realm of thought.
Secondly, is it alright if me and my son invade you and your daughter's presence anytime today? Frankly, I'm bored and Mathieu needs someone to stare at baffled-like.
Ahem. Ahem. You are all* cordially invited to me and my son's very first Let's-Confuse-Mathieu Fete Nationale/Birthday party on the 14th. There will be cake for all those who stick around until the 15th. Or left over cake, or something. There will also be fireworks, generously provided by the city of Paris, because I'm too lazy to provide my own and have nowhere to set them off, food and general absurd amounts of Frenchness. It shall be a fairly civilised and adult affair, really. Bar the fact there's a baby involved. And it's a national holiday about the storming of a prison... This is not, specifically, a costume party, but heeeeeey, if you decide to turn up as a revolutionary baby, I am not going to stop you**. Also, presents for my little one year old are not compulsory, but strongly encouraged***.
* all meaning anyone who would be offended if not invited. Not people who know they'd never be invited. Ex-wives are not expected, but are not unwelcome. Well, at least on my part.
**I will, however, point and laugh. And teach my son to do the same.
***on the grounds that not bringing any may lead to the wine accidentally passing you by all night. Just so you know.
Poking around Paris by myself with my little man is pretty damn awesome, in the main. Sure, it's bloody hard work, but I didn't expect any different. But hey, it's good to just relax a little and have to do nothing but look after Mathieu.
Who...is nearly one, and I have no real idea what to get him. Partly because I'm tempted to get him everything he wants. But I can't afford that, so...improvisation. I'll have to...work on that one.
Still need to get rid of my rings. For fuck's sake, Abime, let go. Just let it go. She fucked you both over, get that into your head and stop loving her already. damn. I guess no matter of things looking up is going to stop this hurting soon. I'll just have to keep at it. Not let it get the best of me.
I wish Mathieu could talk sometime soon, it'd make me feel less...like I'm here in Paris on my own. I needn't be, though. Here in Paris alone, nearly on my second wedding anniversary.
It's not as easy as I thought. I also think I'm starting to go grey. Ugh.
Afternoon. I could do with a couple of favours. Firstly, and quite simply, tell me my wife's a bitch. Or anything on that realm of thought.
Secondly, is it alright if me and my son invade you and your daughter's presence anytime today? Frankly, I'm bored and Mathieu needs someone to stare at baffled-like.
Ahem. Ahem. You are all* cordially invited to me and my son's very first Let's-Confuse-Mathieu Fete Nationale/Birthday party on the 14th. There will be cake for all those who stick around until the 15th. Or left over cake, or something. There will also be fireworks, generously provided by the city of Paris, because I'm too lazy to provide my own and have nowhere to set them off, food and general absurd amounts of Frenchness. It shall be a fairly civilised and adult affair, really. Bar the fact there's a baby involved. And it's a national holiday about the storming of a prison... This is not, specifically, a costume party, but heeeeeey, if you decide to turn up as a revolutionary baby, I am not going to stop you**. Also, presents for my little one year old are not compulsory, but strongly encouraged***.
* all meaning anyone who would be offended if not invited. Not people who know they'd never be invited. Ex-wives are not expected, but are not unwelcome. Well, at least on my part.
**I will, however, point and laugh. And teach my son to do the same.
***on the grounds that not bringing any may lead to the wine accidentally passing you by all night. Just so you know.