Ninjas in Paris

That would be my reaction too if I had to share the bed with Fuller after he'd been pounding Pepsi's all night.

Sorry to disappoint you people that were tricked into visiting this site, but I will be making my last post for a few weeks as I jet-set to Paris to visit my brother.  And I know what you are thinking: I must be crazy to visit France around the holidays!  Wasn't that Kevin McCallister's plan before his negligent ginger mother completely forgot she had a child, in the ode to crappy parents classic, Home Alone?  Yes, it was.  Or wasn't that the destination in the original Final Destination before their plane crashed and hell was the nearest destination?  Yes, yes, it was.  Crap.  Maybe I should rethink this.  Eh, I'm still going.

I do have one question to pose to my readers before I depart: should I go stereotypical American or stereotypical Parisian upon my arrival in the City of Light?  I enjoy looking like a fool and messing with people, and I think either of these options could accomplish those interests.

Stereotypical American:  I wear a 10-gallon hat, cowboy boots, draped in McDonald's bags while shooting my pistol into the air.  In this scenario it is imperative I remain as obnoxious as humanly possible, which could include singing Kesha songs.

Stereotypical Parisian:  Upon arrival I will post up on a corner outside the airport wearing a black-and-white horizontally striped shirt and a beret.  I will then proceed to play with my pencil thin Salvador Dali mustache in between brush strokes on the canvas on which I am painting tourists.  I will also debate the merits of baguettes and croissants in my miserably attempted French accent.

Or I will just watch this video and prepare myself for a good time.

Let me know your thoughts or advice on my trip or just your opinion on Concrete Blonde's 90's alt-hit "Joey."