The water leak of nearly three years ago finally caught up with us, so we spent nearly the entirety of what should have been a lazy three day weekend for Victoire 1945 packing the cats up and shuffling the contents of our apartment around so as to make way for the repair work to be …
According to the substitute veterinarian, who lavished our resident giant with affection, Fezzik is not simply a fatass whose genetic wheel-of-fortune landed on “bon sang, this one is going to be fucking huge.” Rather, moose/beef/fat tuna/happy sushi/hey pig/piggles/fromage/pork (Fezzik has an incredible number of nicknames, owing to his eminent nicknamability) is an apparently-pure large variant …
In other news, we are now sharing our bedroom (the sole cat-free zone in the flat) with an internet-procured 10kg bag of cat food; the more reasonable 3.5kg bags helpfully found at BHV contain sufficient food for all of three or so weeks.
Also known as the-face-that-Fezzik-gave-me-after-he-was-forbidden-from-eating-Aurora’s-food.
I flew back to Houston a week ago today. As the blog is entitled Fezzik in Paris and not Fezzik in Houston or Best Little Fezzik House in Texas, I have been quiet. The assumption that nothing is going on would be wildly incorrect though; since I’ve been back, it’s been near-total chaos; between supporting work, …
Fezzik In Paris 