Lowering expectations… up to a point

Yay, I got a phone call from a tourist shop just next to the Dam, the main square with the palace, in the center of Amsterdam. They invited me for an interview at 4pm.

When I arrived, I noticed that the employees were wearing uniforms.

I do not mind uniforms. I wore many over the years.


What is wrong with you Holland?

So I did not enter the shop.

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Yesterday, I went on a date

with a Dutch guy called Bram (seriously, Netherlands, what with those ugly first names???).

Because the beers are so cheap around here, after 45 minutes, I was already drunk.

Which is why I finally let out a secret:

“Oh my god, I am so excited at the moment with the reboot of Sailor Moon!!!”

And no, reader, loving that show when I was a kid and trying to dress up like a sailor scout and to do the transformation routines did not mean I would turn up gay… I am sure some who did that are very straight today.

“The reboot of what?”

He was not kidding. Children here apparently only had limited access to Japanese animation and don’t know Saint Seiya (Les chevaliers du zodiaque), City hunter (Nicky Larson) or Princess Sarah. They know Maya the bee, and Scooby Doo.

That is just plain sad.

So for the next hour, I showed him videos on Google about all the anime series he missed, patting his shoulder and telling him that his country sucked.

Believe it or not, he didn’t text me after our date to thank me for that culture shot…


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The most important thing at a gym

is to define from the very beginning to which tribe you belong to.

Are you an early riser (every morning, at 7), a hulk (who probably spends more in drugs and powder than in real food),an Alpha male (with the abs and face who could rival Ryan Reynolds’), a pretty face (who runs and does light lifting to maintain his size XS/S), or a chatter, a sweater or a hopeless?

Of course, one individual can belong to 2 different groups.
However, men from different groups should not address one another apart from asking if a machine can be shared or in an attempt to mate in the bathroom or the showers (choice depending mostly on the presence of doors).

That is the reason why being labelled with the wrong tribe can lead to social exclusion and make you miss on networking opportunities.

Back in Paris I was a Switch (on and off, coming 3 weeks, dropping off 2 months, and repeat). So as you can imagine, this time I wanted to be an Alpha.

It almost worked for the first 20 minutes at my new gym… Until I broke a nail… While trying to get my towel, stuck in a workout bench.

I am now a Hopeless one. 😦

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Sound of Freedom

On Sunday, there was the Milkshake festival in Amsterdam.

And I have news: Bob Sinclar is still alive.



Ultra Nate too


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I guess I must accept the fact

that the ads looking for male models on Craig’s list are  in fact about finding actors for cheap gay porn movies.

Or maybe it is normal here to ask for naked pictures, and high quality pics of your penis. After all, this is Holland.

Should I reply to those ads in case they are looking for real models?


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Call me Olivia Pope

Maybe I’m taking the TV show Scandal a bit too seriously…

For instance, when the Russian government seems to accidentally shoot a commercial flight from Malaysian Airlines full of HIV researchers, and people from an innovative eectronic company, I can’t help but imagine that in fact it was a conspiracy:

The truth behind it is that Michelle Obama told her hairdresser that Barack had a secret passion for bagels. You know, terrorists could poison all bagels of the States to be sure to kill the PRESIDENT so they asked the super-secret-black-ops-under-cover-and-lethal-agency “B6-13” to make the hairdresser win a trip to Europe, to have him on the plane, and they tipped off the Russian government by telling them that inside was Justin Bieber, who is in fact a robot that will convert Russians to homosexuality. But Michelle had a secret crush on her hairdresser, so what will be her reaction when she learns that Barack had their conversations taped and that he is responsible for asking his Chief of Staff to take care of it? And will the Vice President seek vengeance when he realizes that he was in fact the biological father of the hairdresser?

Maybe I should contact Shonda Rhymes and offer my services as a scenarist for next season….




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I know that…

I should have started looking  for a job, but when I found the opening of Charles in Charge for my previous post, I also discovered the complete series was available on Youtube.

I will start job hunting after I finish watching the 126 episodes.

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I have a new apartment

Turns out finding a room was not so difficult.

All you need is a printer and creating a fake employment letter showing an interesting salary. And enough cash.

And I didn’t tell you about the BEST. It has a WALL BED!!! like in Charles in Charge.

My life now feels a bit more complete.


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What now?

There is something I hate more than being wrong: people telling me “I told you so”.

And as I had left Paris telling everyone I wanted to stay at least a few months in Amsterdam (my exact words might have been “with all the fame and projects that are awaiting me in Holland, don’t expect me to contact you soon, I’ll be too busy to think about you”)(some of my friends made fun of me)(I can’t believe I’m friends with people so bitchy).

So when my friend Nathalie called me the other day to know how it was going on, I might have panicked and slightly exaggerated.

“This is so great, I met with an artistic agency, turns out they adored me “The French touch we are missing”, they said. They were just sad that I don’t speak the language because they were looking for an actor for a very famous TV show, but they have decided to give me an apartment, and I will soon be doing photoshoots for an underwear catalogue.”

“Fantastic! What brand?”

“(…) Oh, it’s a Dutch brand, they are not known outside here.”

“I am so glad for you!!!”


I’m so screwed. She surely knows I was making it all up. And she will tell everyone. I can’t go back to France after that…

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Men are all the same

Joost didn’t have any contacts in show business. He wasn’t even a photographer.

“But we can still have some fun, don’t you think” he said. He wasn’t that wrong. After all I had nothing to do, really, that day.

“Do you know any arcade game place in the neighborhood? I’m pretty good at Soulcalibur and Dance Dance Revolution”.

He started laughing, so I laughed as well, not sure why, and he grabbed my… (I don’t know if children are reading this, so I will speak in metaphores). He grabbed my sausage through my jeans, and whispered “I was thinking of another sort of fun”, looking at me with his pervy eyes.

G. R. O. S. S.

I really hate when guys are so disresptectful, and even more when you are in a cafe, with people around…

I’m telling you, he was very lucky I kept my cool (he can thank my zen attitude (I went to a yoga class in 2011) and being 2 meters tall and muscular, otherwise, I might have punched him).

So I did what any sensible person would do.

I told him to go to the toilets and that I would join him a few seconds later, because public places turned me on.

And I left when he was sure he was about to score.


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