Soapy Places, Dopey Faces, Stupid Phrases, and Cat Chases

Bonjour, hola, konnichiwa! 

Told ya I'd have more stories soon! I've finally had enough noteworthy brushes with embarrassment and awkwardness to make a post, and I think you'll find in the descriptions below that traveling across the ocean hasn't at all impaired my knack for attracting humiliation. Before we get started, I'd like to give a special shout out to the world's bestet Big and most terrific triplets, Jessica MacDonald, Alex Mills, and Fiona Ryan! Love and miss you all (and the rest of the awesome KGB clan)! As you've seen me in several embarrassing situations, I hope that this post will be particularly entertaining! Alrighty everyone, hold on to your chapeaus, 'cause here we go. 
*the following will be arranged from least embarrassing to most embarrassing  

Cake cake cake cake….hey, wait a minute 
Two Fridays ago, I went to Centre-Ville (the center of town) with my American friends Natalie and Sarah.  We'd just eaten at La Tomate (see "Fruit Salad" post) and were exploring the little stores located near Comédie. As we meandered past some cute boutiques, a store with beautifully arranged cupcakes caught my eye. Dessert is one of my true loves in life, so naturally I begged to go in. Upon entering, it was evident that the scents in the store were…peculiar. There was a definite sweetness in the air, but also a strong, tangy odor. Too concentrated on how everything looked to pinpoint the exact smell, I browsed around thinking of what might taste the best. It wasn't until I saw the price tags (which listed prices far too steep for a mere cupcake shop) and read a sign that said something about bathing that I realized: the odor in the air was soap, and there was nothing edible in the shop because it sold only bath products. Luckily, I came to this conclusion before asking the salesperson which cake flavor tasted the best, but it was definitely still a derp moment. 

WARNING: STARING AT FRENCH BOYS MAY CAUSE TEMPORARY BRAIN DAMAGE 
I'd say about 75% of the humiliation I face in life has to do with males. It hardly comes as a shock then that this next story involves me looking dumb in front of good-looking university students. During my second week of classes, I walked into the building that housed my first course of the day while a group of French guys simultaneously walked past me. To my surprise, one of the cutest stopped me and asked a question in rapid French. Unable to register what he was saying due to my fixation on his smile, I gave a completely ridiculous look that showed I was hopelessly confused and shook my head side to side. He then said more slowly "You don't understand what I'm saying? Okay, sorry," and walked off laughing with his friends. I realized shortly thereafter that he was asking if literature classes were in that building (which they were). That'll teach me not to fall for French charm again — or at least not to stare at people's smiles when they're asking questions. 

I don't even have a heading… "Most Pathetic Moment of the Century," perhaps? No, that title definitely goes to the wretched ZU Homecoming Incident of '08 (get Emily Breeden to tell you about that catastrophe) 
This tale's unfortunate. First off, when finalizing my schedule for the semester, I unknowingly chose a class for 3rd year Philosophy students and ended up keeping it (we'll see how all that goes); but that's not even the embarrassing part. Last week in this class, the professor was looking for volunteers to analyze a 20-page text and present the findings this week with another student. There seemed to be no one willing to take on the challenge, including me. In an unanticipated turn of events, however, my attempt to talk with the professor after class morphed into me volunteering for the presentation. I'm still not sure how it happened, but the best explanation I can conjure is this. I made my way to the front to ask a simple question regarding the class but mysteriously forgot my inquiry while walking. Once I reached the prof, he eagerly looked at me and asked if I'd come to volunteer. Unable to recall my original question and guilted by his eagerness, I instead said one of the dumbest things that has ever left my mouth: "I…want to do…the project…but I don't…know if I…can," to which the prof responded "Um, why not? Sure you can" and pushed the sign-up sheet towards me. There weren't many people left thankfully so mainly the prof and my partner heard me, but it was still pretty mortifying. Way to play the stereotypical dumb American card, right! I'm sure my prof thinks I'm certifiably cray cray in the noggin. The presentation is Wednesday,  so I'll report with results afterwards. Let's just hope that I don't forget what I'm supposed to say then. 

Who Let the Cats Out? Oh Yeah, Me 
Kay, this is the most recent and most pitiful story in my opinion. Remember my host fam's cat Fiona, the one who was soon to be with child? Well, after spending a week at her "fiancé's," I'm almost positive she's preggers and due to have kittens a short time from now. What does that have to do with me right? During her pregnancy, it's imperative to keep a watchful eye on Fiona as she's still able to mate with a different cat and have kittens that aren't thoroughbred. She's therefore not allowed outside and must be watched carefully so that she doesn't escape and get it on with a stray. I'm usually exceptionally careful about ensuring that she's not around when I open or close a door, but this morning disaster hit. As I was leaving for my first class, I took a second longer than usual to find my key and lock the door. This tiny window was all Fiona needed to sneak past me like a ninja and dart out into the parking lot by my hosts' home. Being the dog person that I am and not realizing that lots of noise and panicking drive cats away, I dropped my bags on the ground and started sprinting after her like a lunatic (which is exactly what the neighbors probably thought I was). I found her first under a parked car and slowly lowered myself until I was flat, crawling on the filthy pavement to try and coax her out. I could see it working as she started to inch closer and closer, but after one rapid movement that I guess scared her, she ran out the other side of the car and into a neighbor's yard. Close to tears at this point, I went to the neighbor's yard in search of her, but she was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Mme, who'd realized what happened, came out to look for her herself and magically retrieved her in less than 5 minutes. I guess this account wasn't so much embarrassing as it was pathetic. Of course I'd be the one to accidentally let the cat out when that was the exact thing I was warned not to do. I'm just glad she didn't end up somewhere unretrievable or give her goodies to a stray. Needless to say I'll be paying even more attention when I open the doors from now on. 

Well, there have definitely been more embarrassing "Mari moments," but I'd say these fall into the Top 50 category for sure. I'm hoping not to have many more mortifying tales to share, but if I do you'll all be the first to know. Please continue to pray for me on my journey. 

À tout à l'heure, 

Mari