JJ is delighted to be welcoming Vicki today
Vicki Lesage is an IT Director by day, writer by night. And a full-time nerd. She loves fondue, wine, math, and zombies. She lives in Paris with her French husband and rambunctious son.
She published Confessions of a Paris Party Girl after numerous commenters on her blog encouraged her to write a book. Easy for them to say! She is now working on a sequel, Confessions of a Paris Potty Trainer, which is proving much easier to write. If you thought living in a tiny Parisian apartment was hard, try it with a baby!
Connect with Vicki:
Confessions of a Paris Party Girl
Writing about wine, romance, and bureaucracy as an American living in Paris just wouldn’t be complete without a few jabs at the Frenchman’s idea of romance, would it? I’ve lived in Paris for 9 years, been married for nearly three, and endured plenty of cheesy and ridiculous chat-up lines in my single years.
The highlight reel:
After kissing one dude (I blame the wine for even letting me get that far), he groped my butt then said “My hand discovered a land I would love to explore.” He wants to explore my… butt? No thanks!
After being duped into going back to a guy’s apartment for a “party” (again, I blame the wine for me not noticing that none of his friends were following us), this guy wrote a sappy note in a tattered copy of “Le Petit Prince,” signed it, then handed it over with strict instructions for me to read the book ASAP so we could discuss it on a future date. Like homework? Not interested. Also, there will not be any future dates. Luckily he wrote his note in pencil so I was able to erase it and donate the book to charity.
“Hey you! Girl with a smile! Would you like to have a coffee with me?” This was shouted to me in the pouring rain as I was struggling with numerous shopping bags. Of course, this “gentleman” didn’t bother to help with my bags as he strode alongside me. He only offered to buy me a €1 espresso. I told him that was extremely kind of him but that I had coffee at home.
“My girlfriend doesn’t pay any attention to me anymore. I just feel so lonely.” Girlfriend? I’m outta here.
“I had a great time tonight but I have to head home so I can help my friend move early tomorrow morning. Can I take you out on a date tomorrow afternoon?” You might be wondering what’s wrong with this one. Nothing! That’s what my future husband said to me the night we met (in a bar). No groping, no trying to get in my pants, no stubborn persistence. Just a nice, respectful end to a lively evening. The rest, as they say, is history.
The French aren’t all bad. You just have to watch how much wine you drink around them!
Vicki, thank you for sharing those wonderful chat up lines – the last one is definitely the best 🙂
Drinking too much bubbly. Meeting sappy Frenchmen who have girlfriends or are creeps or both. Encountering problème after problème with French bureaucracy. When newly-single party girl Vicki moved to Paris, she was hoping to taste wine, stuff her face with croissants, and maybe fall in love.
In her first book, this long-time blogger and semi-professional drinker recounts the ups and downs of her life in Paris. Full of sass, shamefully honest admissions, and situations that seem too absurd to be true, Vicki makes you feel as if you’re stumbling along the cobblestones with her.
Will she find love? Will she learn to consume reasonable amounts of alcohol? Will the French administration ever cut her a break?