The American Douchebag’s Guide to Europe: France

Well, this is embarassing. I’ve been home for over a month, and I am just now getting my second post up. Damn. But in my own defense, I have been busy rewriting my last 3 Awesomesquad! Assemble! blogs into a short story and also writing a letter of “go fuck yourself” to a former friend, so I’ve been a tad bit busy lately. I apologize. But enough of that gay stuff, here is my latest blog post!

The American Douchebag’s Guide to Europe: France

Ooh la la!


The area that people know of as “France” was originally settled by Romans during the expansion of the Roman Empire as a place where they could be free to eat stinky cheese, be snooty, and surrender to the Germans all they want. It is important to note that Germany was not an actual country until around 1814, so they had a good millennium or so of a head start. During that time, they were pretty badass: They built a massive palace and garden for the royal family at Versailles, they fought in all kinds of wars with England and Spain, they conquered most of the new world (which they would later sell to us, which was smart of them, because we we’re just going to take it from them anyway), and towards the end of 18th century, the cut off a fuck ton of heads in the name of democracy and tore down a prison with their bare hands. However, in the 100 Years’ War, they were sucking so hard that they needed a 19 year old girl to whip their asses into shape.  Today, the French are known around the world as “Those stuck up bastards with the weird hats and crepes.” To me, they appear to be the cultural enemy of the good ole U.S.OF.A. in that they are liberal, (The believe in that weird voodoo called “evolution” and they think gays deserve rights) while still maintaining a strong sense of nationalism. Hey, ever wonder why they think of themselves as too good for English? Well that’s because they think that if you’re in their country, you should know their language. Does that sound familiar, America?

Initial Thoughts

My first steps in France were not in Paris, but on the coast. We took a ferry from Dover across the English Channel. When my group stepped off of the ferry, we were met with a desolate wasteland. There was nothing but empty streets, empty parking lots, and empty buildings everywhere.  Due to my training in this field, I instantly assumed that a zombie outbreak occurred. In a flash, I had found a steel pipe and was proceeding to swing it frantically at anyone who got too close. Well, a few wings of that pipe and a couple of tranquilizer darts later, I was drooling on the bus and on my way to gay Paris. (On an unrelated note, “gay Paris” sounds much more offensive when it is not spoken with the French accent.)


In all honesty, the accommodations were pretty disappointing. I mean, our hotel wasn’t bad: It had a pretty decent breakfast,  it had a nice courtyard that we could sit (and get trashed) in, and even though the rooms weren’t as nice as the 5 star hotel in London, they weren’t half bad. But, and this is a huge but. I mean, like a Oprah Winfrey sized “but”. BUT when we went to the Palace of Versailles they would not let me sleep on any of the beds. NOT ONE! I even told them that it was OK since I am American and that they owed us since we saved their cheese eating asses in both World Wars, but they still wouldn’t let me. I was completely offended. I mean, sure I was jumping on the bed with my shoes on when they caught me, and yes, I do have a tendency to piss on things to mark my territory, but it was still my God given Amurican right to sleep in whatever palace I pee on. They’re just lucky I didn’t spit in their mouths and make them thank me for showing them what freedom tastes like.


Well, In Paris I mostly ate brie and baguettes, so I have to say they don’t have a huge selection of food. I did have some crème brulee, which was much better than I expected.  I didn’t get to try escargot, but I did try it last time I was in Paris, and I have to say, once you get past the thought of “Hey, I’m eating snails right now,” they’re actually pretty good too. Those are the only 4 foods that French people eat. Talk to my Eurofriends to find out how the fast food chain, QuickBurger, is. I heard it was amazing.


Three words and one 1 hyphen: Cheap-ass wine. Seriously, you can buy a good bottle of red wine for about €4 (about $6.50). I shit thee not. But you need to be careful when buying wine; my roommate picked out wasn’t wine but grape juice. The people I was drinking with only noticed how smooth and good tasting it was. I was the one who thought, “Hey, something isn’t right here.” I looked at the bottle and wouldn’t you know it, it has “sans alchool” right on the bottle.

Needless to say, we were a stupid, stupid group of college graduates.


This one is a bit of a mixed bag. Of course, going in, you are just going to assume that every Frenchie that you meet is going to be a pretentious, scarf wearing cock. To my surprise, I did not see any of these French people. I did however watch as what I assume was a Parisian child spit off of a bridge and into a crowd of Japanese tourists on my Seine River boat cruise. I assume the child was French because he was, like, 10 and all alone in Paris, which he seemed to be comfortable with. Also, who doesn’t love to spit on tourists (when you’re not one of them.) Then, there was this one girl at a club in the redlight district that totally snubbed me when I tried to dance with her. In her defense, I didn’t speak any French other than what Andy (my tour guide) taught us, she didn’t speak any English, and I did try to start a conversation with her twice. Looking back, I was mad creepy to that girl.

I did meet a few nice people in Paris, but mostly because I was buying something from them.  A man in the subway station sold me a ticket for the train for only a Euro  ($1.50) when they were actually more than that. And he was nice enough to neither scam me, or demand fellatio from me.  that’s right, I bought something from some random guy in the subway station and not only did the ticket work (I went through the wrong entrance, but it still worked), but I was also not mouth raped. We Americans could learn so much from these French philanthropists… these Phrenchanthropists. Also, when some of my group and I were wandering  through the streets of Paris, scrounging for food, the man at the restaurant that we stopped at was incredibly friendly (even nicer than the nicest I have been treated by American fast food employees) despite the fact that I was blatantly attacking his native language with my uncivilized tongue.

Overall Atmosphere

Romantic. At least it looked that way. I bet if I was in love and I was there, I would be caught up in the beauty of everything, but since I wasn’t in love when I was there, I was just caught up in the Architecture, the history, and the locations of famous pop culture scenes. You know, like Inception:

This is the cafe from Inception. Yes, I was disappointed too.

And The Da Vinci Code:

No one was murdered there when I was there. What a jip.

And, well, that is all that I can think of right now.

I know of a certain lazy eyed hunch back who feels left out and forgotten.

But all that aside, Paris and Versailles is beautiful. And there’s so much to do that you need much longer than what I had (three days) to see everything. I am absolutely going back, if only to see their statue of liberty. I didn’t get to see it up close and , needless to say, that pissed me off so bad that I threw a mime into the river.

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