Denny,

In lieu of posting a blog entry today, I will redirect you, my faithful four blog readers, to an apt description of our year of spiritual discovery.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/01/11/120-taking-a-year-off/

Perhaps someday though, I will tell you about my visit to the home of the former fashion editor at Italian Vogue to see her collection of vintage Italian designer clothing, Julia's sabotaging of Scizzle's facebook (he is now a fan of Beyonce, rose and karate), the mysterious "chocolate pudding" that we ate at a dinner party the other night that was certainly, we found out ex post facto, infused with a certain something that I will not disclose on our blog (Brokedown Palace? We always thought Claire Danes could play Julia in her biopic) but that makes me a bit anti-social and Julia a bit completely giggly goop (a word we just taught Pascal...), and the new game that the cleaning lady likes to play with me, where she hides my belongings all over the house and then pretends not to understand when I ask where they are. So for the moment I am off to find my running shoes, which could be under the kitchen sink, in the garage, or au salle de bains.

Love,
Kate Beckinsdale

Libby Andrus is so hot right now!

D-dawg,

My sweet, sweet mother is being so redunkulously funny lately. I don't know what to make of it! Until recently, some technological advances have been rather intimidating to Libs. Pour exemple, le cell phone. She TOTALLY freaks out every time her cell phone rings. A common scenario: we're driving in the car (when her reaction is most perilous for bystanders) and her celly rings... a look of panic/doom falls over her lovely face, she begins waving her hands violently, forgetting entirely that she is operating a moving vehicle, and screeches something like, "there is a RING, coming out of this BOX, what on earth do I do, Julia??" She's slightly more comfortable with computers then cell phones, and has become a fairly adept e-mailer. In the last week, though, her hipness and techiness have reached insane new levels. The following are direct quotes from e-mails she wrote us via "interweb" correspondence:

"You ask me if I know how to skype? I am the QUEEN of skype!"

"I am starting my own blog soon and your lives will never be the same."

"The Frey has a new album coming out. FYI."

"I saw your birthday pictures on flickr and you look slammin'"

Holy cow, Momma. Keep it up!!

Signing out,
Julia

Les enfants

Hey boy,

Alors, mon petit garcon. Mimi and I visited the orphanage yesterday where we will be working. There are about sixty five children living there, ranging in age from a week old to a few teenagers. Many of the children were abandoned by their parents in Marrakech and the surrounding villages. I have never actually been to an orphanage and was a little worried about how hard it would be to see these kids, but they all seemed surprisingly happy and were smiling and playing and having fun. The building is new and clean and they're even building a lovely little library. Tomorrow morning, Meggie and I report to the orphanage first thing in the AM to feed the babies. Eh, Deni, YES with bottles.

Love love,
Julia

PS
Not to make light of this subject, but have you seen the movie El Orfanato?? About the woman who returns to her childhood home and it is an orphanage for handicapped children and they come back from the dead and sing really creepy songs in the yard? Holy crapsville, I have never been so terrified by a movie in my life. IN MY LIFE.

Neutral Zone

Oh me oh my, Denny, Flickr has been updated. Photos from the fete, lots of pictures of Pascal, Julia and me (the gang, you know.. Jesus Christ), and all the pictures from Morocco August- December that were hiding on Julia's camera until now. So if you have an hour, or five, take a looksies and don't hesitate to comment on any pictures where we are looking skinny or tan.

Breakups = great for the waistline,
Megan Marion

L'anniversaire

Mon chere Den,

Well, the party was wildly successful. I shall recount the events of Saturday, January 31st as best I can. Zoubeeds, Megan and I went to Marjane (a gargantuan grocery store that makes Sam’s Club look like a corner drugstore) on Saturday morning. Zoubeda went a lil’ bananas with the shopping and bought half the store. We returned to Pascal’s and proceeded to chop, peal and clean for several hours. Much like preparing for a party under my father’s charge, Zoubeda ran an extremely tight ship. No breaks were allowed and we couldn’t eat lunch until most of the work was done. At one point, I tried to covertly paint my nails in the living room and was immediately busted. She shook her head at me in disapproval, brought in a bowl of potatoes and asked me to peal them mid-painting. Anyway, thank goodness for her work ethic as the place looked fabulous and we served at least ten lovely dishes (including mini burgers!!) to our guests.

Megs and I wore our best party dresses and of course had a pre-party pump ourselves up dance to the Macarena and YMCA (see above). We had about eight Americans and ten Frenchies over, and somewhat unfortunately, there was not much mixing between countries. The French were firmly planted in the living room and the Americans took over the hallway. Despite la separation, I think each group had fun. Pascal’s apartment was pretty much hot boxed with the amount of smoking. That was gross. Megan made a super awesome party mix. The notorious and enigmatic Leonard returned from his travels and he and Mimi engaged in their typical … banter, let’s call it. Zoubeed's future fiancé attended the party and though he only spoke Arabic, he actually mixed among everyone far better then the French or Americans did. He obvi gets most valuable player award. We had a delicious strawberry birthday cake and champagne. The night ended with Pascal and I singing Serge Gainsbourg’s “Bonnie and Clyde” as I danced atop a table. How very Paris Hilton of me.

Older and questionably wiser,
Julia

Je T'aime... Moi Non Plus

To my most forgetful friend:

Today is a very special day. Twenty-beep years ago, Julia Andrus Kelly graced all of us (and those of us still to come), with her sweet freckles, pretty eyes, and strong singing voice. While I wish the picture accompanying this blog post were actually of her, it is only a child attached to a defamer article about how Warner Music has the rights to "Happy Birthday" (what???!!!)... But ce soir I will take a picture of the party girl herself, party dress on, sitting in the middle of the floor amid the giant cake courtesy of Keshmara.

Totally Cranaxed,
Megan

Chronic + Drunk: A History Lesson

Dear Dennis,

My sister exaggerates. I have never been one for drinking, smoking, keg stands, or body shots. And I hardly think I have suitors in Marrakesh. I have, however, developed a recent interest in "urban slang," and an ability to drink upward of two glasses of wine. So Denny, I give you the history of the word crunk, with a promise of stories from my weekend to come:

In 1995, Conan O'Brien and Andy Richter were scheming ways to get past the TV censors on Conan's late night talk show, and they settled on an all-purpose, suitable replacement for the infamous seven dirty swearwords that they couldn't say on TV: Crunk. The choice to use that word was definitely not random. Ice T just happened to be on the show that night, and he likely fed the word to them beforehand and certainly helped fuel its popularity during the telecast ("That was seriously crunked up, right there."). But Ice never claimed to have come up with the word--he probably got it from Dirty South rappers, who had been using it for years as a euphemism for getting really crazy and fucked up on marijuana and alcohol (stoned and drunk. Chronic plus Drunk = Crunk). Or maybe crack and drunk. Or coke and drunk. Or maybe just being crazy and drunk. Whatever it is, it means getting really crazy and fucked up. And with Conan's introduction of the word to northern suburban audiences, Crunk came into its own as the recognized sound of the new generation of Dirty South Rap, prompting white college fratboys everywhere to wander around going "WHHHUT!! OKAAY!! YEEEAAHHH!!" like annoying dipshits. and it's all thanks to Lil Jon, and by Lil Jon I mean Dave Chappelle.

Kelley, this weekend I suggest you go out and get crazy+drunk because after two weeks of the the-most-shitty-week-in-2009 award going to yours truly, I am ready to pass it on. If you would like to be considered for this, please email or post your sob story and I will consider you for the coveted prize. And by prize, I mean very special Moroccan paraphernalia and a list of suggested reading self help books courtesy of Oprah and Julia.

Love,
Megan Marion Eckhart Tolle

And it's just getting started

It's a Trilamb party

It isn't wrong, but not quite right...

Hey pally,

Well, Mme Mimi has returned to Kech with quite a bizzity-bang. I’m not really sure how ma soeur does it but after one public outing she’s acquired two new suitors. That kind of thing just does not happen to me but I’m not jealous or bitter or resentful at all. No siree, I'm totally cool with it. She probably has zero idea how to cook a tagine, so whatevs. Anyway, she’s come back quite the new woman, with a certain unprecedented joie de vivre that, honestly, is kind of freaking me out. Let me explain. As anyone who knows la petite is aware, she is not one for boozing or late night clubbing. Well, we’re having a small get together tomorrow evening at Pascal’s and Megs wholeheartedly suggested setting up a beer pong table. As anyone who knows me is aware, I welcome this idea with open arms, but Megan?? C'est pas vrai. Apres-pong, she wants to go dancing. Like, not dancing to Rent in the bedroom with me, but dancing in a real club where they don’t generally play the best of Andrew Lloyd Weber. THEN, this afternoon I mentioned that it was supposed to rain this weekend, and she responded, “it doesn’t matter…I’m gonna get crunked all weekend, anyway.” Ummm, really? What does that even mean?

Un peu peur,
22