S**t C**t

I'm actually pretty bored right now, so I'm focusing my impatient energy on some writing.

I've been left alone in this amazingly beautiful villa on an errand to wait for the Greygoose/Bacardi mixer to come over and make some drinks or something like that. I'm not too sure. I'm also waiting for some Vanity Fair rep to come by and drop some tickets off too. Although I'm not going to that party, but that's okay because I don't have clothes to wear to a VF party.

Europe is not what I had expected. Our flight from Montreal to London was okay. As a good sister I let my sister have the window seat. We were right by the toilets and I sat in the aisle seat which every cart and person ran into. Trying to sleep when people keep knocking into your headrest is definitely one of the most annoying things on a flight besides crying babies, people in your personal space, and people who talk to you when you don't want to spend the whole flight befriending the person next to you. It is our mission on the way back to not have seats by any wings or washrooms.

The Heathrow airport in London is overly minimalist. Terminal 5 is made of glass. As weird as I am, I was thinking this is the last place I want to be if there was a terrorist attack. All that glass. They have loads of terrorist attacks in London. I watch the news. By the time we got to a taxi we really only had an hour to spend in London, but the cab looked like the old ones... I took a picture of it. I'm a nerd. It took about an hour to drive from the airport to C-something market. It was cold. It was really cold. And it rained. It was awesome. It was basically a bunch of shops and some British pubs. My sister picked a place to eat, which was okay, I basically had a baked potato which was sliced 6 ways an opened like a flower with some toppings on it called a Jacket Potato. It was nothing special, but I made an effort to have a beer for brunch. What I wanted was a pint of ale, but my sister did not pick a place where I could have that. She's going to kill me. The cab we took on the way back gave us a mini tour of London in the places we were driving. He talked about some pub that Madonna owns or owned, the hospital all the celebrities go to for surgeries in Cromwell. I saw the place that Alfred Hitchcock lived in, but we were driving too fast for me to get a clear picture of it. I think I got a blurry picture. Who knows.

When we got back to the airport, we found out that we have to wait 40 minutes before our flight leaves to find out what gate it's in. Our flight was late, and we didn't get to our gate until 3pm and then our flight was delayed a half hour. They've set up the airport in a way that you have to walk around and shop which is smart, but I real pain in the ass when you just want to sit the hell down and wait to find out what your departure gate is.

By the time we got to Nice/Southern France, it was not what I expected. It has mountainous hills and there are peninsulas where there is always cloud cover. Yachts. Lots of yachts. I think of Sunday or Saturday, whenever the Grand Prix is in Monaco, which I'll be going, we're watching the Grand Prix in a yacht in Monaco. It's exciting. I really have no idea what to expect.

On Wednesday we came to the villa and got somewhat settled. We went to the Carlton, where Fox is stationed while they set up for the premiere of Wall Street 2, which is tonight. While I was there I saw Josh Brolin sitting on a sofa with his wife with her back turned to us who is Diane Lane. I didn't want to be a weirdo, but I couldn't help but take a look inconspicuously a few times. We made eye contact. It was awkward, because I felt like a voyeur. I have tried to keep my eyes to myself since. :D We then came back to the villa where we quickly got ready. Did I mention I took a shower back at 3 am on Tuesday Saskatoon time, and it was about 36 hours later without a shower. We went out for supper at the Piazza, we meaning my sister and I and Eric who we just got introduced to and had some flat pizza, which was delicious. We went to the Grand hotel, had a glass of Champagne, then came back to the villa.

Thursday I finally took a shower after 48 hours. It was glorious. The bathrooms in the villa have a toilet, a bid-ay, a sink and a shower. The whole room is tiled since the shower is open. The shower heads are all those mimic rainfall or something, but the drains don't drain so well so the entire bathroom floor gets soaked. It's annoying walking around with wet feet. We went back to the Carlton, then we went to Trazz-something or other which is a restaurant which is hosting a Weinstein party for Blue Valentine. I took pictures of the place. It's right on the Mediterranean. Nonetheless its got a view. Yesterday was extremely windy, I had my hair blowing all over the place. Then J and me got sent on an errand from the Grand hotel to search for some ties on the Croisette. They have a rest time between noon and 2 pm where places either shut down or stop serving food. We stopped by the Petit Majestic. My French is not so good. I said de l'eau, but they either didn't hear me or didn't understand me. How can you screw that up? Everything is bottled. It's either carbonated or "flat" which is strange to call water since it is naturally "flat". I'm going shopping next week and I don't think I have enough money to buy eveything I want to. I don't really need any new clothes, but who can deny a Zara, or Mango or this other place which I can't remember the name. I did fancy myself a gelato, which was amazing. We later were headed back to the Carlton, where we saw people herding down the narrow Croisette, camera flashes and people yelling and screaming. I was intrigued to who it was, only to find out that it was just Jean Claude Van Dam with on a scooter, with his body guard on foot (why he was on foot was weird since walking is so much slower than a vehicle). I was sure we would be trampled by the people and the pap, but luckily, we didn't. He's pretty short.

After a brief time at the Carlton, we waited for Rudie (our driver/everything man, who is AWESOME), but the traffic was backed up, so we walked to D's meeting and I waited to find Rudie to catch a ride back to the Villa. I ended up taking a nap, which was more like a sleep since I woke up some 6 hours later. Technically, you're not supposed to do that because it just furthers your jet lag. I don't feel like I have jet lag. I'm always tired and could use a nap every 2 hours if it was feasible. Then we got ready and went to Le Baoli, and had supper at 10pm. Their "dinner" music is a bunch of stuff I didn't think I would hear in France like 'torn' and Journey and everything else in between. The food was okay. The fish I had was flaky and moist and it had to have been the best fish I've had in a few years, so that must say something. I then ended up on the dance floor with Eric, while we danced to 70's style house music, where the house music was then introduced by some good looking guy with curly brown hair playing a bongo on a small platform. The dance floor finally filled up. We had some couple who Eric said the man was 65 and the woman was 75 bumping/rubbing up on us for a good 20 minutes. And then I pointed out the bodyguard on the dance floor whom was with 3 woman around the age of 45, and then we sat back down at our table. I ended up meeting some British guy who has a hand in the Twilight saga, and told me that he's doing the UK opening on July 1st. I'm happy to announce that I will get to watch the movie sooner than the Brits :). I don't think RP will be hear in Cannes, but I'm seriously hoping he will be. Even a glance would do it for me.

Currently I'm left alone in the Villa by myself waiting for these people. I would wait in the back sunroom, but you can't hear people buzzing at the gate since there is some gardener next door making a lot of noise.

The title is from a writer I met last night named Gren Wells. She's fabulous. She wrote a movie that is premiering in Cannes, and its her first, so we toasted it at Le Baoli. She had an awesome laugh. The movie is called Earthbound and it stars kate Hudson. Whoopi Goldberg is in it too. She Mrs. Gren Wells likes to swear and they let her keep a lot of the language in the script except the c-word which she doesn't mean in a derogatory way, but in an endearing way. S*** c*** is her favourite swear word. Mine is a** f*** or other variations of it like a** f***er which is a common word I use when I have road rage. I'm not sure where it came from, but I say it alone quite a bit, because I'm sure someone would be offended by it.

It's almost 5am in Saskatoon, I hope you start your Friday wonderfully, because I know the weather is nicer than here, by that i mean it's warmer in the prairies right now than here.

Have an excellent Friday.

Cheers.