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About Paris

So, me, I’m Mr. Bean, yeah? *mimes rubbing shoulders, drops imaginary oil bottle* Oops! I’d be rubbish at it—hands shakin’, oil everywhere, prolly slip on me arse. But—ooh—it’s lush, innit? Relaxes ya, gets the blood pumpin’. *hums, sways, bangs knee on table* Ow! Bloody hell, that’s me—clumsy git. “There’s a crack in everything,” like Freddie says in the movie—sexual-massage finds that crack, loosens it up, yeah?

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Later, we take a break and grab a bite at this little café on Rue de la Mer. The croissants there? To die for! I’m munching away, and Pierre starts telling me about this festival coming up. Apparently, they’re gonna have music, food, and all sorts of stuff. I’m like, “Count me in!”

Baseball Falls at Rutgers