Merde, Merde, Merde - Ou est Le Internet?

The Baron and I thought we were so-o-o-o-o-o very, very clever.

Laptop - check.

Adaptor purchased specific to Europe - check.

Getting a hotel room with WiFi - check.

And then, it all fell apart.

Wifi doesn't work (oh, wait - I should qualify that it does, if we want to pay 20 euros a day)(which kind of defeats the purpose of having WiFi, non?)

The adaptor we got to charge our laptop? The end of it doesn't fit into the back of the computer. As always in the City of Love, it has something to do with male and female parts - beyond that point I start to lose interest...

So, now I'm using the hotel internet, which is some weird-ass keyboard connected to the TV screen, which feels like I'm seeing my words on a drive-in movie screen.

This for the fabulous privelege of 10 euros a day. A bargain at twice the price, I say.

Until we get our laptop baby back and running, this will be my only missive - I really am on borrowed time here, people.

No fancy pictures to download yet.

You should know that I'm not in any way, shape or form, a photographer. What I see and what I want to capture are two different stories. And, points out the Baron - quite validly - there are thousands of pictures on flickr.com that are far better. But I will try. Soon. Promise.

For now, I can tell you that everyone we have met has been quite lovely. OK, almost everyone.

Our hotel staff, save for Shewon and cher petit Jeremie, are a little on the aloof side. Think of the "Michel" character from "Gilmour Girls".

By and large though, thoroughly lovely, and very patient - they hardly wince at all as we butcher their language and are kind enough to repeat themselves when we give them that deer-in-the-headlights look, should they ask us something in return.

And the architecture? Enough scrolled wrought iron and embellishments to make me want to plan my next trip already, just to be able to walk down every little twisty Rue I missed the first time.

We have been walking for 6 hours straight every day, just gawking and oohing and aahing. Yesterday, we visited Saint Chapelle (no relation to Dave, and the docent didn't really get the joke - huh). To come upon the second floor is comparable to entering the center of a brilliant blue topaz (here I would definitely flickr - I couldn't possibly do it justice). I wept at the sheer beauty of it - and I'm not even Catholic! (there was no i.d. checked at the door).

Today, we visited L'Arene du Lutece, an old "sports" arena built 1800 years ago. And by sports here, think lions and scraggly prisoners.

I must run, as time is a-wasting. But rest assured, as soon as possible, I'll be back.

Non merde.

Take 3.25 Every Hour for 24 Hours. Forever. Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery.

How many blogs do you read on a regular basis?

I just did a count, because I keep getting surprised when I go to a site and I seem so behind and out of the loop. The Baroness loathes being out of the loop.

And just as I am a fast talker, y'all - I am an even speedier reader.

So, I read 78 on a regular basis. I try to do this daily. I'm nothing if not thorough.

Yup, 78. Seventy-freakin'-eight. You read it right.

Granted, 2 are no longer active (for them, I wear something stylishly black while I have my solemn minute of pouting), but I still go there, dancing my eyes across their final posts, reading between the lines, the words, the letters; selfish hoping they'll change their mind or that there's some code that will redirect me to another secret site. But, alas, no. (or I suck at decoding. That could be a strong possibility...)

This is crazy. How do I get anything done? But I can't help myself.

These are such compelling, amusing, eloquent, thought-provoking citizens of the the blogosphere - how can I miss even one?

Why do you all have to be so good?

Why? Why?