I am back in ‘Merka. That means blogtime. Here are some pictures from the dying days of France, aka France with friends and not with family.

This is pretty much my favorite picture in the entire world. Robert, Bri and Me, chillin at a club in Bordeaux.

Robert is the best dancer I know, besides one Mr. Cameron Benson-Smith.

In spite of a long night of vomiting (mine) and an overly-aggressive drunkenness that led to needless confrontation with French people (guilty again!) during a long walk home, we somehow managed to make it to Marseille the next day.

Dangling feets over the Med.

This is the view from our hike up to this cathedral. That funky pointy mountain in the background is Mount Sainte-Victoire, aka C

French bloggin’ in the usa

Why hello there. I am Katie, Kari’s sister. Kari is somewhere in Slovenia right now and asked me to put up some pictures from our family’s recent visit to France. I hope we can all be friends. Crap, I am sorry for not understanding the html etiquettes.

This is me, with piercing eyes and a rich coat.

We all met in Lyon. Clearly my father and sister are related. Gross.

This trip was marked by many sweet, filial moments, which was nice because I only get to see them rarely. Shortly after this picture was taken, Kari threw a phone and maybe some make up or chocolate at my head.

teh moms.

The French deal with the control of pigeon populations by building them nice houses and then eating them.

A doomed love.

“canard” means “asshole” and “sarkozy” means “France’s new president”. You may do the linguistics math.

riot krri.

check out this bike 4rillz.
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This wee child kept trying to teach the wee-er child to skate at a park in Arles. She even took her off the pavement and onto the grass when danger became imminent. Alas, the baby did not show much promise.

Skate or die.

Kari tricked teh moms into posing with horns. Hee hee.

When my sister was 5, my dad made her cry by telling her there was no such thing as heaven and that believing in Jesus was only something a dumb 5 year-old would do. They get along ok now though!

One day I hope to live the sweet life with a pink basketed bike and bright yellow door.

Our bathroom in Arles was in a tower stuck on top of our room that lead out onto a balcony. A bottle of wine thrown in the mix made for the.best.night.bath.ever.

Evening view of Arles from said balcony.

Kari got a tummyache and Dickard got sympathy pains.

We drew on and signed this napkin in St. Remy in the hopes that the really hot waiter would think one of us was a famous illustrator. God, that is so sad.

St. Remy

Mmmmm…Roasted chicken, butter, cheese and bread. I am super vegan friendly and conscious, but omg this lunch was awesome. Unfortunately, teh moms cracked her crown and her tooth fell out during it. Voodoo.

Cezanne’s studio outside of Aix-en-Provence. The American student who saved it from being torn down preserved everything inside, so it has a lot of the actual still lifes that he painted. Which meant great quantities of rotting fruit and many, many fruit flies.

Kari told me to meet her in this park and when I got there, it was an orgy. Thanks for throwing me a bone lil’ sis!

This mirror was a total skinny mirror, so we took about a thousand pictures in it. Say happy 21st, Kari!

My roommate, Thomas.

Flower markets everywhere.

Spice markets too.

I really liked the expression on this dude’s face.

This was an unripe fig that I picked in Cezanne’s garden and was sacrificed on the plane before going through customs. I had to sacrifice it on my chest, natch. I’ve heard Kari often say that I hogged up all the family titty….

…but she is not so bad off really (these pics were for Chloe!).

What a looker!

That is all. Thanks lovebryan!