Being the grown-up that I now am, I attempted to get up this morning and tromp through the rain and the cold to my morning workout.

The whole scheme was ill prepared. Got to bed too late. Ate too much upon waking. Felt like the above picture denotes.

Whatever. Only a few more hours of self-loathing over task A-1 for the day failing.

Things to do: Haircut (lobbyists hate hippies), Cobbler (shoe repair . . . lobbyists also hate the poor), continue plan for world domination (as always)

Thanksgiving

After joining nearly 40 million people (as said by a radio DJ) on the road yesterday in the Thanksgiving traffic, I had arrived home.

Maybe its a small town Pennsylvania thing, but Thanksgiving Eve tradition is for everyone you ever played T-ball with, sat near in study hall, mowed their lawn, or passed in the grocery store to pile into a specific town bar and catch up on the times.

In the case of Nazareth, PA, this bar is the Holy Family Club: The social club of my childhood catholic school. Don't be surprised that the bar is owned by the church; growing up, the priests would drink like fish and smoke like (I wanted another animal here for continuity sake) their lives depended on it.

One must realize, I have panic attacks even going into the local Wal-Mart because of the inevitability of seeing faces I thought I would never have to see again. However, I feel removed enough - only now - from the town scene that last night was a blast. Maybe it was the Thanksgiving spirit, but it was great to see everyone.

Although it was most likely $1 beers and $2 coctails that did it for me. Oh, how I was thankful for that!

To conclude the Thanksgiving entry, I give you part deux of "Sam Malcolm: The life and times of" Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello Everyone,
My guess is that most of you will be receiving this letter on the 25th, so I would first like to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. I hope all of you find a large turkey at the center of your table today; not the feeble, french cousin which lacks the size and grandeur that are common in most American bred turkeys. Yes, it’s true. Turkeys in France are dwarfed by their American counterparts. An american, such as myself, can’t help using adjectives such as sickly, questionable, unfortunate and “smart”. When I say “smart,” I am not necessarily insinuating that the IQ of the French turkey is superior to that of the American, or that French consumers are more aware of any potential benefits of eating smaller fowl. No. Here in France, the word smart has taken on a completely new meaning thanks to the introduction of the Smart Car. Silly french people have associated the word “smart” with the size of the vehicle, hence, small.

I encountered this problem in class one day when I was describing the american university system to my students. It is first important to mention that in France, the majority of universities are free and non-selective. This means that when a student graduates from high school, and obtains their baccalaureate (massive, comprehensive test at the end of high school) he or she has the option of going to any university that suits their needs. Im sure you can only imagine the horrified looks on their faces and the peculiar noises they emitted when I informed them that most american students have to pay in the tens of thousands of dollars, every year, for four years, to attend college. To prevent any of my students from blacking out, I attempted to calm their nerves by talking about different monetary aids such as scholarships. Completely oblivious to their concept of the word smart, I explained to them that athletes, minorities and smart students are most favored to obtain this money to put towards education. I continued on for roughly another minute or two, explaining different aspects of scholarships. It is my belief that, during this time, each one of my students were concocting images of the typical american university in their head. I am certain that the overall image looked something like American Pie: Beta House with Gary Colemans running all over the place. Thankfully, the teacher was there to clarify that by “smart” I meant “intelligent,” thus rendering their conceptions of the american university a little more realistic and a lot less interesting. Just a little anecdote.

Anyways, since the last time I wrote, not much has changed. For the most part, striking has stopped in France which has brought regularity to my working schedule. I am now consistently teaching 10-12 hours of classes every week. I must emphasize that I use the word teaching very loosely because I don’t lecture the students on the fundamentals and rules of english, and I sure don’t evaluate the students. My sole objective is to come into class, speak english and make the students speak english. Some classes have proven to be extremely interested in learning english, or at least interested in having someone relatively young in their class who is not their teacher. There are other only a couple of classes which still remain opposed to learning english. These classes are older students who have already completed the Baccalaureate and are attending the post-grad professional school (which is business/trade oriented) that operates in conjunction with the high school. Students in this program have the tendency to feel that english is not and will never be valuable to them. Hence, they sit back in their chair, arms crossed, and when called on they respond, “Je sais pas” or “Je comprend rien”. “I don’t know” and “I don’t understand anything”. Some of these students are 20 or 21 years old, so its difficult for me to encourage participation as an older, more respectable teacher might be able to.
Fortunately, most of my classes have expressed a desire to learn. While they were very timid at first, students are starting to get used to me and open up. I have implemented a new tactic of speaking french poorly, from time to time in class, which usually creates lots of laughter and a general, good mood. Most importantly though, it shows them that making mistakes is completely normal, if not, expected. By speaking french poorly and being fine with it, I notice that students are becoming more comfortable with attempting to speak english which ultimately makes class a much more enjoyable experience. I also should not forget to mention that making mistakes with French (sometimes not on purpose) my students are very quick to correct me which I appreciate very much.

As for my personal francofication. I decline baguettes for whole wheat loafs. I eat eclairs and quiches from time to time, and have started weaning myself of the cheese diet that I started when I arrived here. Red wine is a constant in my apartment considering that quality wine here is very accessible and cheap, as you can imagine. I haven’t started wearing berets yet. My hair on the other hand is the longest its been since I’ve been alive, and I’m now letting my No Shave November extend itself all the way to the New Year.
Anyways, this is all I can write for now. I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving.

Much love, miss you all.

p.s. no i havent slept with any of my students

Till later, Capitol

Mom. . . Dad. . I got a job. Its true. Last Friday was, sadly, my last day as 'intern boy' for at least a while. It's not to say that I can't/won't return to my favorite title in the future, but as for now I am fully employed.

After some fresh bagels and a box of joe, I thanked the Congressional office for a truly eye opening, incredibly valuable experience and I was on my way.




Tomorrow is a new day, a different day. It is unlike any other I have had before. It is my first day of my first 'real' job. If the suspense hasn't killed you by now, my new employer is XXXXXXXXXXXXXX, across from the White House (it doesn't hurt to add that last part).

To explain the XXXXXXX, I quote their website: "The XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX business federation representing the interests of more than XXXXXXXXX businesses of all sizes, sectors, and regions, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX."

And of course, a second opinion from Wikipedia: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXis a lobbying group in the United States of America, representing many businesses and associations across the USA and throughout the world. It is not an agency of the United States government. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX staffed with policy specialists, lobbyists and lawyers. Politically, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXis generally considered to be a conservative organization. It is known for spending more money than any other lobbying organization on a yearly basis.

To put that last part in perspective, Exxon Mobil spent approx. $27.4 million in 2009 while XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX spent approx. $144.5 in 2009.

Yea, they throw down.

What will I be doing for them? To be honest, not entirely sure. But one can only know so much from interviews. From what I do understand, I will act as the middle man between the various events/ experiential trips abroad/ published reports of the Commerce and their members - making sure each is receiving the maximum amount of benefits that the chamber has to offer.

How accurate will this be? Probably not very. But I'm very optimistic about the opportunity, the exposure it will afford me as to yet another side of Washington, my to-be boss, and a $1, 10 minute bus ride as my commute isn't a bad thing in the least.

As I felt a potential 'night before Disney' syndrome coming on, I have primed myself with some Advil PM to take the edge off before I go to sleep. 'Night before Disney' syndrome, you ask? Its the non-denominational way to explain the 'Night before Christmas' syndrome to all my Jewish friends (Shalom).

Till tomorrow.

Capitol Hill Club

Awesome watering hole.   They let the riff raff in the otherwise members only club for happy hour. Sorry for the terrible photo.  Its not terribly suave to take an obvious pic in places where the Bushes come to hang.

Muhlenberg

Baller. A preacher who said to his  congregation during the beggining of the revolutionary war, "there is a time to pray and there is a time to fight. The time to fight is now!" He then threw off his holy garbs, displaying a military uniform with sword underneath. All the men in his congregation followed him into battle. Like I said, baller.

There's only need for one star.

The first morning in a while where waking up was a casual affair. After a decent amount of HBO and a satisfactory period of 'chill' (for those who know me well, it wasn't long), I headed out to the next stage of my adventure.

The cab picks me up, drives a few miles, weaves through the Anaheim Angels Stadium (Angels in the Outfield, anyone?) parking lot, and drops me off at the Amtrak Station. I buy my ticket and I'm off to Los Angeles.

From Union Station in LA, I take the Metro to Hollywood Blvd. in order to do the requisite touristy motions and pass the time until Gina, my resident LA guide and friend since forever, gets out of work with America's Next Top Model. . . so Hollywood.

But as for now, my taste of LA derives largely from a drunk bum who nearly falls onto the tracks at the station. Before I witness my first death/suicide, police are quick to bring him to his feet and 'escort' him out.

As the escalator delivers me into the daylight from the grim scene that is the LA subway, Hollywood Boulevard is RIGHT there. And let me tell you, cinematic tricks make this famous street appear much more glamorous than reality. The stars are lining the sidewalk in front of cheesy tourist traps and even cheesier gift shops.

Sorry Adrienne, was going to spring for the "Best Sister" Oscar Award, but then I remembered that I never had another sister to compare you with. In addition, I didn't have $9 to spare on a 6 in. naked plastic man. Although, if another occasion ever arises where a similar naked man is presented to me at $8 and doesn't throw any unearned accolades your way, be sure I'll make the purchase.

So I continue to take in Grauman's Chinese Theatre, the "Hollywood" on high above the city, et cetera. After a tiring morning, I head to the Renaisance Hotel lobby,\ to chat with my pilot friend about worldly issues.

Soon enough, Gina picks me up and we dash off through LA traffic. She points out every restaurant and cafe ever featured in People magazine, E! Hollywood, or other star obsessed media outlets that I've never kept up with.

Its amusing to hear of a city where obsession revolves around a certain class of people, the celebrity. Sounds familiar? DC does it too. Except those obsessed over here are much less attractive and much more nerdy. Example: Gina nearly runs over T.I., famed rapper and ex-con, in a crosswalk and I nearly trip over Wolf Blitzer, CNN Politico, on a run around town.

Analogies always work: Washington, DC is to ambassadors, senators, and K Street Lobbying firms as LA is to studios, talent agencies, and recording label. Gina's roomates conversations followed accordingly. Maybe I watch too much Entourage, but it was interesting in the least and enlightening at the most.

That evening, we headed out to Santa Monica on the coast for sushi. Now, that was the California that the Governator's wife and Beckham speak of in the tourist board commercials. Beautiful.

A great evening that ended in a nearly delusion spell of fatigue. To bed, I went.

Sadly, my taste of the real LA ended as soon as it began. The next morning I was off on the Super Shuttle to be flown out of LAX.

But now, I'm back in the Dirty and going to pick up the one and only Theodore Allen.

In and Out Burger. Check.

They were just... ok. Five Guys, you still have the title.

Victory party, but we lost?

A great time.  We were not about to pay for drinks in the main ball room, open to the public.  So we dove into a private party, and when approached through around the words "from Washington", "flown out to help the campaign", "big supporters", etc.  However, we got too cocky and brought in 5 other people into our plan and were asked to leave by the dorkiest press secretary ever. Regardless, thank you Mr. Moldanado. Your gin and tonics were great.

Needing greener pastures, my friend managed a press pass, and began taking out goblets of wine and food from various other rooms.

The whole night was very Robin Hood, if you will.

CBS 2. KCAL 9. Intern boy goes public.

Phone Banking

Mobilizing Californians next to my buddy, Mimi Walters, candidate for CA State Treasurer.