Bored in the USA

It's been just over two weeks. I should've been on a plane back to Paris by now, but I'm back in my old cubicle in California, where there's plenty of sunshine, triple-digit heat, and plenty of air conditioning. The French consulate doesn't have all my paperwork yet (they blame all the May holidays in France), so my stay here has been extended for what looks to be an extra couple of weeks while the bureaucracy gets things in order.

The only trouble is... Alannah and I really miss Paris.

It started early on - pretty much at Charles de Gaulle Airport, where we were constantly reminded of who and what we were going home to. The feelings and thoughts stirred by the stereotypical "Ugly Americans" in Terminal 2 would probably be too foulmouthed and shocking, even for this blog.

It was no better when we landed in San Francisco. While the passport control agent was remarkably friendly and light-hearted, US customs officials were their typical rude, boneheaded, uneducated selves. And then there was driving on the 101 to go home. And then going shopping here. And then.. then.. there are too many headaches to list.

Certainly, it's fantastic that we've got extra time to spend with our family, friends, and old co-workers. I'm enjoying every moment I get with friends who will soon be half a world away. And I can't complain too much about the current California heatwave. And the shopping is C-H-E-A-P!

But I'm getting fed up with having to drive everywhere. With sales clerks who don't even bother to say hello. With Hillary Clinton's screeching, patronizing voice on the TV. With overly made-up news anchors. With jacked up pick-up trucks. With the idiots who drive them. WIth the insanely huge portions of mediocre food. With the fact that I'm packing on five pounds for every week I'm back in the States.

I wanna be back... home?

I don't know. I don't quite have a home right now. But I do know where I don't want to be.

Maybe a trip to LA this weekend will seal the deal for good.

Mother, Are You Waiting? Father, Are You Pacing? I'm Coming Home

It's been a fabulous two months (9 weeks, to be exact), but it's time to go home.

It's my last day at the office. Alannah's packing our stuff. At about this time tomorrow, the Air France 747-400 will be slowly backing out of the gate at Terminal 2E at Charles De Gaulle, headed for sweet home California.

So we can go to the French consulate.

It's official: My work authorization came through, we're getting long-term visas, and are on our way to becoming actual residents of France.

We hear that when we come back here, we'll be greeted with government-issue stripey shirts, berets, and a carton of unfiltered Gauloises. I'll be required to grow a goatee, we'll both be required to undergo a regimen that will make us look feeble and malnourished, and summarily implanted with a chip that makes us hate work and government, and love vacationing for a month at a time.

All joking aside, this is where the reality of it all sets in. We're going "home" not to really go "home" but to get the necessary documents to live in our new "home." And then I'll have to change the name of this blog to "Omid at home."

See you on the other side...

Reason #4,972 I Left the United States

The LA Times just reported on a club in Southern California that held a spring break contest to give away a set of fake boobs. And it was a success. See the video here. And this is in the sanest of the 50 states.

In the meantime, I'm so grateful that I've got myself a woman who's smart, beautiful, and has too much self esteem for the aforementioned bullshit.

Too bad I have to kick her to the curb tonight. The wife is arriving in Paris tomorrow morning.

Note: It actually does take a woman with some good self esteem to not kick your ass for a statement like that... Love you, baby!