The Woman of Mystery

There was this couple who decided to go to Paris for weeks. The woman was trying to learn French by listening to French language tutorial on a tape, translated in English, hence the accent is all French.

Où est la station de métro la plus proche?
Where is the nearest subway station?

Ou est-ce que je peux acheter un billet?
Where can I buy a ticket?

The man just got home from the diner to buy something for breakfast that morning. He was sitting there, next to the woman.

“Hey! Listen to how good I’ve gotten”, the woman said.

Pouvez-vous me donner un plan de, s’il vous plaít?
Could I have a map of the subway, please?

She pushed the stop button and went,

“Could I have a map of the subway, please?” (with French accent, just like the speaker said)

“Impressive”, the man said.

“Right? I’m practically fluent. Ooh, thank you for the coffee and croissant.”

“De rien.”

The woman was like, silent for a second, don’t know how to response.

“You’re welcome.”, the man said.

“…… Ahaha. Duh.”

“I thought our stomachs should start adjusting to french cuisine, so I got croissants and café au lait.”, the man said.

“I thought café au lait was spanish.”, the woman said.

“No, it’s french for 'coffee and milk'. Lait is milk.”

“Really? I thought it was ‘Café, Olé’, like, ‘Coffee! All right!”, she raised her thumbs up while saying ‘All right!’.

“…………… You’re kidding. You’re not kidding. You are. You’re kidding. I can’t tell whether you’re kidding.”

“I’m a woman of mystery.”

from the scene of most popular american tv series

Strung Out

Sunday is always a lazy day for her. She had the same feeling, the same mood for sunday for this past two years, since she moved in to Bandung for so-called college. Wake up in the morning. Still in bed. Yawning. Oh, how she loves that soft and warmly blanket. She could stay, hiding inside that thing, forever.

Sunny sunday
Rainy sunday
... doesn't matter. It's always the same. Always the same.

Few messages, phone calls, and all that stuffs are companies. And, yeah... the internet is truly, eternally her best friend. Once the internet connection get troubled, she couldn't breathe. Wow, she haven't shut down the computer for, like, two days or so.

So much thoughts she keeps by herself. Written down, mostly. But she can't find it anywhere. Well, I must say, the room is a nightmare! She could care less about that, she can sleep comfortably on that. But not me. Gee, I can't help it. That's not so good and such a not-everyday-stuff. Pretty, maybe, but not in my point of view.