DECONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

I'm done.
It's over.
My patience has been worn thin and torn.

If one more person of French descent and more specifically, a Parisian, tells me I look fat, tired and/or red, I will unleash the New York apeshit that has flooded over the surface. Do you REALLY need to let me know I am "very very beeg"? Gee, thanks, I hadn't noticed THAT I AM ACTUALLY PREGNANT. Your helpful reminder was SOOOOOOO NECESSARY. Thank you also for making a point to tell me every time that I enter your store how red my face looks. It's called a motherfucking ROSY PREGNANT GLOW, OK? And I don't tell YOU how pasty your permanent grimace looks so lay off my face before I pound on yours.

(Taking a breath) OK, maybe it's the hormones talking but in the past two months, I've been pushed down the metro steps, consistently not offered a seat on the train, told by a local concert organizer he "doesn't kees zee pregnant women" when I went in for the customary bises, told by a Parisian musician "I hate zee sound of your instrument" (pointing to my piano) not more than 30 seconds after we finished playing a packed show, constantly asked if I'm OK because "I don't look so good"....all this in addition to daily reminders that I am big and red and apparently look like I am going to die at any given moment. WTF? Maybe I should just start telling random strangers here as I push them down a flight of stairs that "hey, by the way, your face is HUGE and you look like you're gonna DROP DEAD, you should really rest more....ARE YOU OK???"

I know this is a city of critics and the almighty "opinion", I've known it from the moment I arrived and for two years I have played it nice, patiently trying to learn the language and stay friendly while trying to make sense of the jokes of circular "wit" that abound here. And by "wit", I mean basically just insulting and critiquing everything around you in as many words as humanly possible.

Well, not anymore.
Why? Because I ACTUALLY AM fat, tired and red and I've HAD IT with the deconstructive criticism from a bunch of whiny self appointed critics. I recorded an entire album in August. What did YOU do Paris? You closed down and took another month off and now everyone is oh so cranky to be back. Awwwwww so sad for you. If you don't have anything nice to say, KEEP YOUR TRAP SHUT. I don't need to know that you think my baby must have an ENORMOUS HEAD and that it must be hard to walk if you're like me. Just sell me my half kilo of fucking ham and MOVE ON. And yes, I KNOW MY LIPS ARE CHAPPED, you didn't need to point that out too.

I miss the USA right now with it's giant dose of friendliness and a big fat smile to go with a side of "HOW ARE YOU TODAY?"

Paris, you are my home but you are reeeeeeealllly trying my patience right now........

NOW I'M A FOLK SINGER.

Yes, that's real a real breeze at sunset in the country.
We should be a Prell ad.
Anyway.....
It's August in Paris.
And everyone is on vacation.
Everyone except me and Erica.
In the spirit of "finish every goal you have or may have in the future NOW before the child arrives", I am recording, mixing and mastering The Resident Cards album this month with Erica, le BFF and l'autre coté of our duo. I've never made a record with a girl before. Having spent the past 10 years in rock or punk bands with boys, I'm used to foul mouthed, smoking, farting, drinking, belching, totally inappropriate discussions about women and their lady parts, eye rolls, arguments, garbage, garbage, more trash and having a REALLY good time except when I wanted to throttle all of them.

Now I live in France and I'm in a folk duo with a girl where we have daily discussions that go something like this...

DB: You're so awesome!
EB: No, YOU'RE so awesome!
DB: BUT YOU ARE THE AWESOMEST!
EB: OK! We are BOTH so awesome!
DB: You look pretty today!
EB: Awwwwwww, so do you!
DB: You know what's really pretty? Our record is sooooooo pretty!
EB: It's AMAAAAAZING!!! This is soooo fun! Here, let me help you clean those dishes!
DB: Awwwwww, SO FUN!
BOTH: YAAAAAAAAAAY!

We work every day and night, cook vegetarian lunches and take "watch Weeds or True Blood" breaks and sometimes we are crabby and we cry and then we laugh again. And then we work more. Because we are ninjas. We mix and master in London on August 26th and after a year of working the minutiae of these songs, it's SO AWESOME to have them recorded properly.

Sometimes we get frustrated and have to take a dance break from the grind.....



One awesomely pretty record coming soon.....

BIIIIIIIIIIIIG SOLDES

Living in France, I often miss Daffy's (High Fashion Low Prices!)and Marshalls (Brand name fashion for the entire family!) and especially Loehmann's (Off price specialty retailer of designer fashons!). Ahhhhh.....the the thrill of the aimless wander through these stores on the hunt for a designer bargain, somewhere buried among the piles of ugly print dresses and Mom jeans. These stores were my Ativan, immediately calming and utterly satisfying.

I get my Ativan twice a year in Paris where YES, once again, this week ends the season of SOLDES SOLDES SOLDES (SALES! SALES! SALES!) I quietly sat out the whole month of the sales as I refuse to battle the crowds and for me, there is no point because at the end of the sales are the best prices and guess what's left? LOTS OF MY SIZE. LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS. It's the joy of being a big girl in Paris. All the size 0s, 2s and 4s have long ago been snapped up but me? I can wide load shop happily now.

Today is my time. SOLDES are ending and I have the crazed itchy fingers, heart racing excitement of knowing I will be spending the day wandering aimlessly through store after store. I also have a new card in play this year.....THE PREGNANT CARD.



It took me a few months to really feel comfortable using this one but as I waited sheepishly in line after line, I was scolded by at least a dozen Parisian women (all over 50) who would look at me with the most scornful and pitiful look and say incredulously, "WHY ARE YOU WAITING IN LINE?????!!!" as if I was the dumbest person ever to grace the planet. I'd stutter out a "welllll.....uh.....I don't know....I" to which they would respond "YOU ARE PREGNANT! YOU GO TO THE FRONT! IT'S YOUR RIGHT! IT'S THE LAW!" as if by standing in line, I was somehow messing up the rules for everyone else.

It took all of two times waltzing to the front of the grocery store line for me to realize....THIS ROCKS. I have four months left of this card, and goddamnit, I'm using every last one. Move over beeyatches, I got 12 items on a 7 item limit and I got giant a dressing room and I will happily push past your size 0 ass BECAUSE I CAN.

Happy SOLDES SOLDES SOLDES!!!!!