It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Thursday night was interesting. After our assistant squabble, all four of us hung out, and everyone was on their best (most friendly) behavior. We went to our new favorite pub, Liberties (the english one), and had an interesting time as always. We were the only ones there for a good hour. I guess the French don't go to pubs on Thursday night before 11. Whatever, our apartment gets boring real fast, so we had no choice. We went and chilled for a bit, and then (as usual) got accosted by another french bloke. The pattern bears repeating for this reason: this was an older, less pushy, but still quite strange guy. I'd say he was in his late 30's / early 40's, and he came into the bar expecting to find someone with whom he could play pool (or, better, snooker which is not pool at all, and I don't think I spelled it right either). Since we were the only folks there, we were officially chosen. Rach and I figured, why not, it's his euro. So we played, and it was fine, but he was as strange as could be. It's hard to describe, but he was a little spazy. I think he has this obession with playing (though he's not very good, we were better, in fact) and he kept telling us how to make our shots by pointing at the place on the ball to hit or whatever. By spazy, I mean he was one of those nervous types that kind of jumps around and makes little sense when they speak. Anyway, Rhi and I won (ha!), so it didn't matter much. Before I hit the 8 in (which happened to be a direct shot), he said some bullocks about me having to hit the cue off three sides first. It's a rule. Yeah, whatever. Shush up while I school your team. You can try to extend the game all you want, but you and Rach have lost, so give it a rest. I hit the shot, game over. He wanted another, but our curtisy and politeness can only extend so far. We graciously declined and went back downstairs. It wasn't to be mean, but really, had we stayed, we wouldn't have been able to contain our laughter --and that would have been more mean. So there you have it. More french madness. Also, Danielle (another English barmaid) is our new friend. We talked to her a lot, and she is letting us name a new Christmas drink she made (which is delicious and has a glow stick!), so we have to brainstorm and come back with a good name. I'm thinking "Berry Christmas." Also, I had the girls watch Blue Collar Comedy, and they loved it. Irish Rachel really loved it because she couldn't get enough of their accents. She gets a kick out of mine, so you can imagine... Good times.

Now for the point of the post! I have declared it Christmas season in our flat, and daggumit we will celebrate. Now some of you know that I am usually the least spirited at school. I am toast, everyone else is whitebread (um check the madison comics section). But here, no one wants to get into it and so I feel almost obligated to spread the holiday cheer. We found a Christmas tree in the closet (if you can call it that), and it came pre-decorated with red star lights and red bulbs. Awesome. Then I went to the store and picked up some lights and more bobbles (as Rach calls them). We strung up the lights and hung the bobbles from the ceiling in our artistic fashion. It's awesome. The flat of boringness is now the Noel haven. I have some pictures if you don't believe me. Oh and of course, all of this was done with my Christmas music in the background (much to Rachel's dismay). Check out our tree and lights: (ps notice how the tree, when lit, looks like a burning bush....a sign??)