things that are NOT COOL

when i just made a cup of piping-hot coffee mixed with hot chocolate (yum) and as i wander distractedly out of the kitchen, i manage to slop a bit over the side of the cup, which burns the heck out of my finger. unfortunately, i'm now standing in the middle of a carpeted hallway at my office, so i can't shriek and drop the cup (which is probably what i'd do at home) so instead i just jump about a foot in pain, which results in slopping roughly half the cup of skin-searingly-hot coffee ALL OVER MY HAND. OUCH. it's still all red and mottled. stupid coffee.

also not cool? ME. (again.) as a more-than-just-english-speaking, fairly traveled american, i am very sensitive to the Ugly American stereotype that the majority of the world holds. with good reason, too, i might add... i've come across many an Ugly American in my travels, and i assure you, they're quite wince-inducing. so anyway, i make an effort to NOT be that ugly american, and to be courteous, and learn a bit of the language of the country i'm in, and not shout all the time, and basically let the rest of the world know that we're not ALL fat, lazy, gun-toting, flag waving, smarmy, holier-than-thou arseholes. it's an uphill battle ;-P

soooo our last night in paris, matt and i went for dinner in a nice little restaurant near the eiffel tower, where we ate by far the best onion soup i've ever had in my life, followed by foie gras and smoked salmon, rare steak, and pasta.... and a bottle of wine. our waitor was a charming french gentleman, funny, nice, pleased i spoke french, etc. matt and i had stuffed ourselves on the soup and foie gras and salmon, so i was having a hard time making a dent in my pasta. i had slumped back in my chair at this point, nearing a food coma, when our waitor came over and asked if we were finished. i said we were going to try to work on the pasta some more, and he made a joke about feeding some of it to matt. i laughed, and pushed myself back up from my slumpy position to a more appropriate seated one. except. except we were at a tiny little table for two, which had a wrought iron base on the floor between our feet, which it seems my feet were resting on instead of the floor. so when i pushed myself up straighter, i essentially shoved the base of the wee table. hard. which sent both wine glasses, the bottle of wine, matt's food, and the ashtray flying. i watched in horror as matt's wine overturned all over his (white) shirt, then tumbled to the floor where it shattered among all the wine that was pouring out of the overturned bottle. the cafe had been fairly quiet - it was late, there were only 2 or 3 other tables there - so the crash was heard loud and clear over the sedate murmuring over the other tables. which all stopped immediately, all eyes turned on me. i wanted to die. it was awful. the waitor was super nice about it, since he could tell i was mortified beyond belief, and kept telling me it was no trouble to HIM, he just had to sweep up a little glass, and joking that it was matt who i should be apologizing to since i ruined his shirt. auugh. alice: ugly american extraordinaire. so sad.