France - day 2

Day 2 - Saturday 19th

After a night in an actually extremely comfortable bed, I woke up, and realised a terrible thing.
IT WAS NOT A DAMN NIGHTMARE. I ACTUALLY WAS IN FRANCE.
Shiiiit. After a shower, in which I noticed that there were no locks on the door, I sort of crawled into the kitchen, to see the oh so damn lovely mother making food. Well, pouring some water into a bowl. I had another cup of coffee, just to keep the ball rolling, while Nicoz came in and drank some warm milk.
We then had an amazing game of ping pong. Well, I say game, I actually mean 'game'. As ping pong isn't a sport. I refuse to acknowledge it as a proper event. ITS JUST STANDING THERE. You can do ping pong naked, or wearing full ski uniform, it makes no difference. I don't know WHY the School Ping-Pong team has to change before playing. What, in case your wrists overheat? Losers. Anyway, the ball happened to bounce incorrectly more times for me, so I 'lost' the 'game' 10-21. Do I care? No. I'm much more annoyed at the ease in which I have been replaced back home. I've been gone TWO no ONE WEEK and already you have nicely filled my hole. Wink wink. NO, wait. Screw you.
Yeah, so we then had a bike ride. I forgot that the French fuck everything up and cycle on the wrong side of the road, and nearly got hit by a car. But I also noticed that everyone in france is so damn polite. Everyone said 'hello' (well, 'bonjour', but lets not confuse things with make-believe words) and waved at us when we cycled past. If you were walking down the road in England, and two teenage boys cycled past, would you say hello? No, you'd probably scream, dive out of the way and quiver until they were gone. But, yeah, a LOT of politeness. Nicoz showed me a football stadium, I told him about pikeys. It was a cultural exchange.

For Christ's sake, how come every advert on German TV is a damn ringtone commercial? NOBODY LIKES RINGTONES. If I hear that damn Mr Chaos thing again, I am going to hurt somebody. And as my little brother is asleep next door, it may well be him.

Then we played FOOTBALL. Anybody who knows me will know of my legendary skills (read: Uselessness) at football, so the less said about that, the better. But the neighbour showed up, and carried on the french sense of co-operation by refusing to speak any english. Hey, France, guess what? We saved your ass not once but TWICE, so stop acting like your language rules so damn much.
We had fish for lunch. And wine. But, more importantly, COFFEE. Ah, yeah. I was starting to develop a slight addiction to coffee. Oh well. Not like you care, is it? You and your new friend. Bah. I'm quitting the group, to start my own regenade commando elite. Yeahhh.
Me and the frenchy found some common ground, however, in the international comedy art form. Yep, Jackass. After watching Ogg get dead-legged repeatedly on my phone, we found some website that did home-made jackass. A guy jumping in front of a train, then off again? CHECK. A guy fuckin' breakdancing UNDER a bus? Yep. A supersoaker filled with window, cleaner, ignited, then fired at a wall? Hell yeah. Some things transcend cultural borders, and stupid people hurting themselves is one of them.
Then, we went to a town called HAHAHHAHAH Cassis. It was just so damn hilarious, especially with the Cassis Diving School, and a postcard saying 'I had fun in Cassis'. Its pronounced 'Cassie' for the slow (read: Kris) out there. But, most importantly, I HAD ANOTHER COFFEE, bringing the total up to 6 in two days. Also, I saw a french girl up close. Fiiiiit.
The coffee didn't work too well, as I fell asleep in the car home, but, yeah. I was tired, you twats. I had only had a few hours sleep the night before, and my system was over-taxed. Losers.
After a meal that went on forever, due to the french propensity for stuffing food into their guests... we went out. Bowling. Mmm. Everyone knows my LOVE for bowling, so you must have known how I felt.
But this was no normal bowling alley, oh no. It was like a pool hall/nightclub/disco inferno/bar/partyland/hell dealie. And man, was it good. Thankfully, there were a few English (yayyy) and I was free to wander off with them, as my exchange's girlyfriend turned up and he more interested in her.
The music was so damn loud. The bass - seriously - was making my huge manly legs vibrate. It was that damn strong. Anyway, after watching Sariel repeatedly fuck up the bowling, Jason rule all, and John's amazing dancing (which looked like long distance running) I stepped up to the bat, sciring an AMAZING 83. Well, not great, but still better than Saz's pitiful effort. Then I realised - to my horror - that there was actually a trance remix of that sound your phone makes when you hold it next to a radio. Oh, shit. I hate trance music. I hope that DJ Sami DIES. Combined with this 'music' and some alchohol, the french got very overexcited and started dancing on the alley, and scoring strike after strike. Don't care, bowling is also on my list of non-sports. I made up a new game: Just insert peadophilic lyrics into Micheal Jackson songs. Its surprisingly easy.
Then, on the ride home, I felt depressed and isolated. Sort of like the guy in the Shining, but without the ghosts. The Shining is a scary film. Actually, no it isn't. It was bit of a letdown. But MISERY, that's a scary film.
ARGH, THAT FUCKING FROG. I DON'T WANT A RINGTONE... SHUT UP.
Screw it. I went to bed at 1.30. That's all you need to know.

Next time on MY BLOG... pool, pizza, boat racing and 63 bottles of wine in every colour

Zombie Killer: Throwing that crazy frog at them. Really hard.