Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Bunions on the Riviera

After a full night of "near fatal" diarrhea, Dad is preparing to go back to Los Angeles to do four episodes of a a stupid TV show.

We all thought he was retired. I don't know what's worse: what's coming out of his ass or what's coming out for the new TV season.

Here we are in the south of France and Dad gets a call from his agent about having to fly back there. At least the volcanic ash cloud is gone but I worry about Dad flying around by himself. We're all staying here because it's too expensive for all of us to fly back for two weeks. As far as I'm concerned, the pack should never separate. Ever.

Both Lamby and Dad have very runny poops.

I don't know how they got sick but Lamby has been eating these French chewies and they are super stinky. I don't think Dad is eating those, but he must have eaten something French to get that sick.

Dad is, as usual, really concerned about what he's going to wear "on the air."

Dad: "Should I get those mouse grey shoes? The ones that have the white soles?"

Mom: (rolling her eyes, jealous because she didn't get asked to fly back to be on TV) "You can't see shoes on a talk show. No one is going to be looking at your feet."

The two of them are ridiculous. All they do is complain and eat and complain some more.

Mom: (talking to Dad in the kitchen with her mouth full of haricots verts in truffle infused extra virgin olive oil ) "I was on the bunion chat room earlier and my bunion is NOTHING compared to some of those other bunions! I don't feel so bad now after reading what some people are going through with their ginormous bunions. You should see the pictures!"

Dad: "Yeah! You've got a FUN-ion!"

Mom: "It's a degenerative disorder...but at least I can still wear cute gladiator sandals."

After dinner, we all went down for our walk on Boulevard Victor Hugo and barked really loud at French dogs. Whenever a French dog walks by, we give them hell, all four of us. We tell them where we're from, the worst pound in L.A.. We scare the shit outta them, those prisses.

It's late here in the south of France. Nine hours later than for regular people and dogs. I'm going to try to get some sleep but it's not easy after what I saw today on the terrace beneath ours. A GIANT seagull caught a pigeon and ripped him to shreds. He took his time eating him too--left nothing but a few feathers. This seagull was bigger than me. When he was done eating, he flew off, making a woosh---woosh sound with his enormous wings and he laughed.

Giant Seagull: "Haw! Haw! HAW!"

They call them laughing gulls. Honestly, it wasn't that funny. Mom was totally freaked out. She feeds the pigeons every night from the balcony, which is illegal here in dumb France, Europe, but that doesn't stop her. She's actually fattening them up for the seagulls.