Cultural Omnivores with Indigestion

Funny, you would think a society that rattles on endlessly about foreign racism might actually try to conceal some of their own. Much in the way they criticize something as random as their healthcare. Truth be told, the charming and talented Amy reminds one of the fact that the garden variety European city seem to persistently remain crud and graffiti encrusted pits:

I've been here nearly two years now but have yet to receive my Carte Vitale (yeah, put that in your movie, Michael Moore!). Because I'm able to see doctors on Fred's card and hate doing paperwork and reading instructions, I could have gone on like this forever. As a condition of my new employment, however, I had to produce a card or at least an attestation that I was in the process of getting one. I received the attestation and my card was supposed to arrive the following month. Instead I received a notice that France is introducing new cards that require a photo I.D. The other night, the only night I had on make-up, I finally mustered the energy to take the photo. We arrived at the Saint Michel station photo booth a few minutes early before meeting a friend for dinner. I stepped in the booth and was ready to go. Luckily, Fred is more astute than me and said “if you use this booth that will be in the photo”. I focused on my reflection and turned around to examine the giant penis and scrotum scribbled on the plastic backdrop. I tried standing up, rearranging the seat, having Fred hold up my coat as a back drop, all to no avail. I considered just taking the photo with my head perfectly framed by male genitalia. Certainly a giant penis growing out of my ear would convince a doctor that I was worthy of medical attention.

Either that or a recording contract and some movie options.