What the hell is going on 2

At the moment la vie est trop belle, I am waiting for a catastrophe to happen any minute.

Patricia Kaas: Il me dit que je suis belle
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Knowing people in right places

I am not really afraid of NEC arresting me, I know the chief of NEC quite well, and I am sure he would risk his career to get me out of trouble. But if he really risks his career, my crime better be a good one, not just getting involved with a young boy of 35 years.

Why I know the chief of NEC? Because I am often knocking at his door with my son. Why am I bringing my son along? Because my son has a weird way of showing his love, the offer often being the daughter of the chief of NEC. So I force my son to write letters of apology, which the chief of NEC is quite impressed of. And he would of course never let me go to jail, how could he live without the entertainment value of our visits?

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

First passing four days with endless compliments from Frenchmen. At home my husband trying to kiss me all the time. Then today staff evaluation with my boss where I for 1,5 hours had to listen how valuable I was for the company, how creative and magnificent I am.

Am I the only one not knowing that I have cancer and only 3 months left to live?

Or did the laboratory guys really get back to my boss and say that if they ever come to Copenhagen, it will only be because of me? I have many clients that make it impossible for my boss to fire me. I don’t definitely deliver the cheapest services in town, but if my clients once use me, they will never go to someone else. It sounds like I am a prostitute, but no, I would never sleep with a client for money, I do it for free (just kidding husband, of course I take paid, how do you think I can afford so many shoes!!!).

And as this wasn’t enough, the sweet Olivier is sending me text messages and e-mails, oh boy. I would very much love to get back to Olivier, but him only being 35…hm, I am scared that NEC will arrest me for paedophilia. I might have forgotten to tell Olivier that I was married, had two kids, and that I had passed the 40 something, didn’t seem that important at 5 o’clock in the morning sharing mojitos.

I guess that I can always write to him that I have cancer and only three months to live!

Fatigue!

My husband has no sympathy for me being tired, according to him I could just have gone to bed earlier this week-end. He has no idea what a hard work in general it was being in Stockholm;

Hairdresser (always painful to support the stupid hairdressers), sauna and hot tub at the hotel (very hot, made me sleepy), fine dining (eating makes me feel guilty), coffee with Johan (I was scared to death he will challenge me in chess), cocktails in various bars (you can’t imagine how hard it is to say “no thanks” to every second drink offered!), roof top walking (VERTIGO), zodiac ride (I could have gotten sea sick), socializing with clients (it is extremely hard to keep track on compliments; “Vous etes très charmante!”, was it the 15.th or the 16th time?) etc etc.

The only thing I must admit wasn’t hard work was laying back and listening the sweet Olivier singing Georges Brassens to me. His guitar was missing, though.

Olivier is also definitely more tired than me as he had to attend a Jewish wedding Sunday night when he got back to Paris. Grazy Jews having weddings on Sundays. Oh, Sabbath on Saturday? Didn’t look much Sabbath to me!

Hamster trouble

“Mom, Mille’s (the hamster) eye is infected; we have to take it to the vet.”

“No way, I am not paying 500 kr for a vet. Human life might be priceless but a hamster; most of the pet shops value it to 50 kr. We just flush it down the toilet and I buy you a new one.”

“Mom!!!!”

“Okay, I will take it to the vet tomorrow. When you come home from school it is cured.”

PS. If they don’t have same colour hamsters at the pet shop, I can always tell that the medicine made its fur turn from grey to brown.

Vertigo!

I had no intention to climb up to the roof tops of Stockholm, knowing that I suffer from acrophobia. But what can I do when the 5 French lab guys insist and promise to take very good care of me? I couldn't resist, the thought fainting up in the clouds and Olivier catching me, well, can it get more romantic?

How romantic did it get? One of the lab guys turned out to have so bad vertigo himself that he had to be attached to the instructor the last 50 meters.

Good God I had gotten my client away from the idea flying with hot air balloons!

Stockholm, la vraie ville de l’amour or 40 reasons for not to become lesbian, at least not yet

I have just spent 4 WONDERFUL days in Stockholm with 35 French transplant surgeons and 5 French commercial guys from the laboratory sponsoring the event, LA VIE EST BELLE! For four days I have heard endlessly “You look so beautiful tonight” (174 times), “ You are so charming (168 times) or “You have truly beautiful eyes” (197 times). I know that Frenchmen think anything blond, even if it was a reindeer walking on it’s back feet with a blond wig on, is beautiful, but the hell I care; women are always receptive for compliments!

Now you wonder how much fun can French transplant surgeons actually be? Hm, not much, they can be quite boring. But as I can be the queen of small talk, I can make any doctor laugh and find a funny story under each boring cover. You might also wonder how much fun can French commercial guys from the transplant laboratory be? Let me tell you, A LOT OF FUN!!!!!!

Networking is important; you never know what you will need in the future. So after the past 4 days networking with these mostly boring French transplant surgeons I know that if I ever need a new kidney or liver, there are 35 French surgeons ready to proceed with the transplantation. And I don’t need to get in line to wait for a donor; there are 5 commercial laboratory guys ready to give me one of their kidneys right away! It is a small price to pay that I had to manage with minimum of sleep, like last night’s 1,5 hrs. Here my boss would usually faint thinking about the bar bills, but this time I didn’t get my company credit card up from my handbag once.

Boy I am good! And belle, and charmante, avec les yeux tellement beaux!

PS. If you ever wonder whether you are able to know when you meet the love of your life, let me tell you, you just know! Amongst the commercial guys was Olivier, “l’homme de ma vie”. I have NEVER met such a charming guy before; totally mignon, witty, intelligent, romantic, the most sympathetic person in the whole world and very interested in me; just too good to be true. I had to tell him that he simply entered my life 20 years too late, but I could also see that for 20 years ago him being only 15 I wouldn’t definitely have been interested. And I guess it couldn’t have worked out anyway, me loving shellfish and him being a practising Jew.

PSS. No, Olivier isn't blind, but just as I said, too good to be true!