Sugar Daddy

We're staying with Alys' cousins in a remoteish area out of Paris (sort of like the distance from Turramurra to Sydney... obviously it's very close). It's fun here beacause they have baguettes, 24 hour Asterix tvm supermarket chains called ATAC and the family is really nice. But there are also children here. They are scary, happy children, who are, disturbingly, Michael Jackson's dream children. This is because they chase me around all night trying to touch and sit on me (and ofen suceeding). And then, when I'm having a (cold, showercurtainless, altogether dodgy) shower, they molest me with their eyes. Argh! Why is there such little belief in lockable bathroom doors in France? 24 hours a day I am faced with this:

No! She's doing it with the eyes again!

There is a brand of sugar here. It is called Daddy. During dessert last night (mmm, crepes), lines like this were spoken: "can you please pass me the Daddy sugar?", "stop hogging the Daddy", "can I take a photo of you with Daddy?" etc. The best thing about Daddy is the promotion on the packet:

With every pack of sugar Daddy, you get a free set of pimpin' gloves.

Sometimes things get a bit crazy in translation. For example, Michael Chrichton has a new book out called 'State of Fear'. Kind of a boring, generic title right? However, when they brought it out in Austria, they changed the title a tiny bit. What was once boring, now becomes:

The world's foremost emo author. (I was originally hoping that Cath's book title would have an awesome German translation, but seriously, 'Till Debt Do Us Part' could never be bettered. Ever.)