Yesterday was a Tuesday and it was also a day I went to Versailles with a friend of mine who was visiting. Versailles was built in the 17th century as a hunting lodge for the King, but was later turned into a small town by his son, who also became King and in his reign, decided France needed a new image... also, it needed a little protection. He built additions on the castle to... look, I’m not a historian. I am sitting at a cafe wishing the sun was not creeping out from behind the clouds because I need every excuse to wear a sweater right now. I have been knuckle deep in carbohydrates and fat since I arrived in Paris a little over a month ago. Now I can’t even masturbate without excusing my bloated belly to a pretend boss in an office job fantasy I will never be professional enough to keep from getting fired from. Why can’t my sexual fantasies be about men, searching for themselves and begrudging my insistent company or children, that’s at least accessible.
I am not a pedophile, but needed to make an inappropriate quip to lead back into my Versailles story. When Marie Antoinette was being tried, after years of imprisonment during the French Revolution, the Revolutionaries had children claim, under oath, that she had molested them. I didn’t know this, but was astonished by the progressive resourcefulness in such a puritan era- they knew how to get the job done. She lost her head shortly after. Marie Antoinette was a teenager when she became Queen and somehow she was supposed to rule someway other than for herself and her immediate desires. I am almost 30 and still have a hard time saying hello to homeless people.
I read that King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette wouldn’t go to Paris because the hordes starving to death under their rule was offensive to their olfactory. Thomas Jefferson lived off Champs-Élysées in the 1780’s, also Beyonce and Jay-Z were just here too. Americans are obviously very different, but I think Marie Antoinette would have really liked Beyonce, probably only in a “make my food” kind of way, but the fashion talks they stood to have if everyone were color blind and tone deft. Armed with the knowledge of historical residence preferences practiced by French royalty, I automatically took the role as teacher’s pet at the beginning of the guided tour my friend visiting (from Canada) bought for us. Our French guide stood with us over a replica model of the palace and asked “does anyone know why the King moved his court away from Paris and chose to live 2 hours away?”. I was standing right behind her, so that when I spoke, I was heard through the microphone around her neck as clearly as a fresh tracheotomy. In almost a detached, but slightly aggressive monotone I matter-of-factly stated “because it stunk.” The guide looked at me, embarrassed. She apologized for what she assumed was an unpleasant trip I was having to her country and continued to give the real reason: strategy. I then said, even louder “I’m from Canada.”
Today, I am just going to work with children and watch Sex and the City. I thought about running, but think my tum-tum will wiggle too much through my shirt and possibly damage my knees.
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