France

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France for all of its history, artistic triumphs and social movements is a country not unlike the Chicago Cubs. It has never won a war against any other European nation. In all, France is a nation to be studied and admired for its incredible history and its beautiful, albeit usually unfriendly women. French chicks have always been a problem for me and most other foreign men. As a matter of fact, French women are a problem for most French men, who practically have to beg on their hands and knees for a date with one of their own. The thing with French women that’s stupid (besides that they hook up with French guys) is that they think its cool for you to act indifferently towards them while making it obvious that you admire them. It’s an awkward balancing act most of the time. Be indiscreet, yet aggressive. French women generally know what they want, and if they want you, they’ll let you know it. Persistence is key. And don’t forget, here as in many other places in Europe you have to dress to impress.

The most annoying thing about French women is that when you finally do get them to hook up with you, they expect lengthy and fulfilling oral sex. In fact, the way French men acquired their reputation as great lovers stems from the fact that they perform cunnilingus for foreign women with the same enthusiasm and energy as they would have to on a French woman. Viva les “muff-divers”, I suppose. Most men from other countries are too lazy or too repulsed by this act of submissiveness to perform it well or anymore often than just occasionally. Personally, I feel as though you’ve got to like a girl a whole lot to chow box. E-muff said! I think that we should be civil about this and return the favor. Since the French have taught us how to chow box, we should introduce them to the “itchy dog” and call it even.

Communication is often difficult in this country because the French refuse to speak English, although most of them can. This obviously does not help you in your efforts to hook up. One of the keys to success in this country is patience and an attempt prior to arrival to master the French language. Make no mistake though, it may very well be worth the effort. There are some damn beautiful women here. It’s just that it’s frustrating to rap hard on a beautiful French chick all damn day, only to be left holding your Johnson in the end, instead of having an end to put it in. I’ve had difficulty making this “French connection” on more than one occasion. But it’s definitely not impossible, especially if you get out of Paris and head to the French Riviera or some of the smaller French towns. Try to find some French women who have done some traveling of their own, because they tend to be more open-minded and accommodating towards foreigners.

To understand the behavior of the French in general and Parisians in particular, you have to realize that the French hate foreigners, although they had their asses rescued by somebody else in two World Wars. They hate Americans in particular despite their love of Levy’s blue jeans, McDonalds, cowboy attire, R & B, Coca a’ Cola, MTV, Hollywood movies, Tex/Mex food, Jerry Lewis flicks, Harley Davidsons and Marlboro & Winston cigarettes. (Now if some of the French would only discover Bic razor blades and underarm deodorant, the rides on mass transit would be a lot more pleasant.) Talk about being hypocritical! But I’ve got to be fair. I can’t say that I blame the French at times for disliking Americans, since the typical tourist family that visits this country consists of an annoying wife, nagging kids and a fat, bald, classless husband who would have rather gone to Yankee game than visit Paris.

So what do the French like, anyway? They like running over pedestrians with their cars, smoking cigarettes, paying outrageous amounts of money for clothes and alcohol, staying off the grass at parks, stupid little poodles, mimes and giving out fines to tourists who use English words in a ‘Trench” conversation. (No kidding, in some towns it’s actually illegal to mix French with any other language in the same conversation.) Any one of these things by itself is enough to dislike France. But it is worth a look-see at least once in your travels, even if it’s just to drink red wine in Bordeaux. If you happen to run into a cute French girl anywhere you may be traveling, get to know her. Being shown around by a native of Paris or any other French town by someone who speaks French is a great asset. Jazz and R&B, like Mexican food are the fad these days everywhere in France. You may be able to meet hot, French women in the numerous music clubs here and impress them with your knowledge of American music enough to muster up a runkle.

Everybody goes to Paris at least once, so I won’t bother telling you that for most of you PB’s out there, this city is a total and complete waste of time and money, unless you know someone who lives here or speak perfect French. Paris is like New York in the fact that an introduction by a mutual friend or acquaintance will get you a lot closer to “tasting the French waters” so to speak, than trying to do the whole thing on your own. That’s because the Parisians, like New Yorkers, don’t trust people they don’t know. (Unlike New Yorkers, they don’t mug them.) French women assume that any strange man who talks to them wants to get rankled. A pretty damn good assumption, I’d say, Miss Smarty-France! This place is also big as New York, Los Angeles or London, and to help make sense of it all, some genius decided to divide Paris into 20 districts or arrondissements, each with its own personality, shops, cafes, bars and night clubs. The nightlife in Paris is totally annoying because it’s spread out all over the place. There’s no one area you can go to which is guaranteed to be the center of the action, like other major cities such as Buenos Aires, Gothenburg or Phoenix, for example.

On top of that Parisian nightlife is very exclusive. You have to know someone who knows someone in this town. You could be walking down a quite street, thinking that the place is just dead. Then someone who knows the area leads you to an unassuming door. A knock is made, and answered by some pretentious French moron, who looks at you with a discriminating gaze and nods you through— if you’re lucky! Inside there’s a noisy, crowded, smoke-filled club with lots of beautiful French women who are not going to be sympathetic to your failure to master their language or even for your fellow countrymen’s generosity in saving their pathetic asses time and time again in war. (Christ, no wonder the Germans love kicking the crap out of these people!) You can increase your chances of hooking up if you can somehow convince them that you are Canadian, which won’t be hard if you speak French badly. At least the French don’t hate Canadians, like the do other foreigners, they are merely indifferent to them.

When in Paris in the summer time, hit on the thousands of foreign girls who visit here each year “because it’s Paris”. More French losers have gotten laid by hot, foreign chicks this way, then by any other means. Those bastards can’t wait ’til the summer and the planes start flying, the trains start rolling and the tour buses start driving into town. They’ll play up the romantic mystique of this place by showing them the sights they’ve always wanted to see, speaking English to them with effected French accents and taking them out to exclusive, pretentious cafes, bars and clubs so they feel important, and

BOOM!   They’re in the bed— chowing foreign box and perpetuating a stereotype that will ensure them even more foreign YP the upcoming summer. You have got to cut in on some of this action, and believe me there is plenty of it. Come on! If some beret wearing, croissant-eating, no-underwear-changing French guy can get runkled by the hoards of foreign box visiting this city at anyone time with this rap, anybody can. Hit places like the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louve, Palais Royal, the Pantheon, the Arc de Triomphe and the University of Paris to meet them. But just by walking you’ll meet plenty of them.

To hit on some local booty during the day you have got to learn to play the game in a French cafe. All French social activity centers around the cafe. That’s because there is nothing to do in a cafe but people watch, talk to your friends and excluded anyone you don’t know from your life. All of which are favorite pastimes of the French, and they do it better than anyone. Cafes are usually outdoors and very expensive, but they can be a great place for you to check out the babes. (It’s actually cheaper to eat and drink by the bar inside the cafe, however there rarely is any quality box in this area). Head to the rue de Steinkerque in Sacre-Coeur, the Moulin Rouge in Montmartre, The Place des Innocents, He de la Cite, Avenue des Champs-Elysees, the Pompidou Center, plaza St. Germain, He St Louis and the Latin Quarter, especially around St. Michel and Sebastopol. There are cafes everywhere in anyone of these areas of Paris, and I absolutely refuse to endorse any of these ridiculously pretentious places except Cafe Rive Driote in the Place des Innocents and Cafe Beaubourg on rue St. Martin.

Les Bain Douche on rue du Bourg 1’Abbee and Scala de Paris on rue de Rivoli are the best clubs in Paris. After spending a night at these perennial favorite French “see and be seen” discotecs, you’ll wind up in French A come fall semester. I guarantee it. Le Violon Dinque on rue de la Montagne and Le Veche Vin on rue Daval aren’t bad either. If you get sick of getting heismanned by French chicks head to Pub St. Germain des Pres on rue de l’Ancienne Comedie or Le Bar Sans Nom and the Sixty Six Cafe on rue de Lappe to meet people who are anything but French. It’s expensive everywhere, so drink heavily before you go out. The beer and wine in the supermarkets are generally not expensive at all. Don’t expect to go out and get hammered at the clubs unless you can afford $10US beers. Now I don’t know about you, but if I pay ten bucks for a beer, I expect to have some bodacious, big-breasted girl dancing in front of me and doing things that should be illegal to a fireman’s pole. For a less expensive and less pretentious, student hangout, head to the Factory on rue Quincapoix. If none of these are too your liking, you are bound to find something going on in the streets of Marais, Bastille, the Latin Quarter or Montparnasse come nightfall.

I was lucky enough to have a hot, rich French chick show me around once when I was in Paris. (I met her in Ibiza, by the way.) She was typically French, meaning that she only went to clubs she knew, hung out with people she knew and runkled men she knew (thankfully, for once). She took me one of the most common type of club in Paris, the kind that cater to a mixed crowd of sexual orientations. I fail to understand why hot women in this county, like those in Miami and New York, enjoy partying with homosexuals, but they do. If you feel like exploring your feminine side and are with a woman, Le Palace on rue du Faubourg and Le Queen on Avenue Champs-Elysees are usually packed with beautiful women. Just make sure you dress in clothes more expensive than you can afford and make sure she’s really a chick before you hook up!

Paris for all of its short comings is the fashion capital of the free world. From Cartier to Christian, Channel to Guatier, this place has it all. LA, New York, Barcelona and Milan wrapped into one couldn’t touch this place. That sort of reputation attracts the beautiful women. The fashion season is in high gear during the summer, and there is sure to be some fine booty around at the better clubs. The Independence Day celebration in Paris is a great time. No this has nothing to do with an alien invasion from outer space, although most Parisians act it is. It’s a time when all of the foreigners in the city “storm the Bastille” and party. There are so many visitors in Paris for this celebration held on *** of every year that it’s almost impossible to get accommodations. No matter when you visit this city, do yourself a favor and reserve a room for at least one night before arriving, especially in the summer. There is nothing worse than not being able to hangout with the one French chick who actually digs your rap, because you have to spend your whole day hunting for a place to sleep.

God Damn Factor 8.5

French Riviera

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