More Photos from The ‘Peg

14407691_1805240596426499_1531720434_n 14407647_1805241409759751_1386641450_n 14397459_1805241393093086_600925078_n 14393383_1805216713095554_1022524165_o 14393218_1805216906428868_1929040591_o 14393218_1805216906428868_1929040591_o-1 14384246_1805241406426418_385724024_n 14384140_1805240996426459_958038281_n 14375327_1805216936428865_183071495_o 14360462_1805240493093176_1519991407_o 14360416_1805216806428878_1106355667_o 14360410_1805216803095545_1363281523_o 14340093_1805241119759780_847823909_o 14339980_1805216939762198_411779355_o 14339974_1805216879762204_1084680064_o 14339916_1805216793095546_88692286_o

Also available on


Bitches be like poutine.

When there is nothing to be done during your lunch time, I have a recommendation.  Fill your eat hole with poutine.  The kind of dish your taste buds will thank you for, but perhaps the incoming future heart issues might make you regret.

So far the best poutine I’ve had in Paris has been in The Moose (side note the chicken wings are divine) and not exactly expensive either (by Paris 6ème standards).  But it’s hard to write words about stuffing great food down my face, so just look at dem pix fam.

Read the rest of this entry »

Passé décomposé

Finally an update out of my new Montparnasse HQ, after all that has gone on in the past year this it’s strange to think that two years ago from yesterday I started the move to Paris.

Having officially lived here for a year and six months (a year and seven months if you include when I was staying here for the month of may 2013), it’s been a bizarre experience.  My french has improved and declined and improved again, I’ve lived on each end of the city and some, had the pleasure of battling the french paperwork system, encounters with the ever so helpful Police Nationale, the billion and one things needed to rent an appartement and the hilarity of the french medical system (hope you don’t need to stay monsieur, it will cost 1.300€ a night! and my personal favourite so why are you here? the doctor asked as blood flowed down my face).  But you know what?  I would not have it any other way.

There have certainly been highs and lows, but all I need to do is step out of my front door to realise what I have here.

Having had the opportunity to grow up in one country, live in another and finally settle down here in France I can’t really say my life hasn’t been interesting; once it comes time to end my life long adventure on this great spinning ball in the deep void of space (because both impôts and death are a certainty, unless you have a good accountant then it’s only the latter).

On this time of reflection (my birthday) I take the moment to sit back and accept the previous year and the achievement of some how making it out alive from my early to teenage years with only moderate neurosis.  And let’s be honest, no self identified adult is entirely sure how they made it past eighteen.

It’s also bizarre to think that I’ve had my ongoing project for nineteen years, which is the same amount of time I lived on the otherside of this planet in Canada.  With the second being learning life the hard way in the UK for twelve years after that.

Being thirty-two (and seemingly being seen as twenty-five by my french counterparts – how I love you so France) is an awkward experience, social norms tell me I should have some kind of luxurious appartement, have a few small humans running around and be married to my boyfriend/husband (come on, I can’t fulfill all your wants society) of 17 who I met in high school.  Has that all happened, no not really, do I care?  Not all all, because I’M IN PARIS SUCKAS AND IT’S MAH BERFDAY YO.

The moral of this story, I end up writing a jumbled mess of thoughts on to a journal that has been active for fifteen years and post images of hot dudes for no relevant reason.  Take that internets!

Read the rest of this entry »