Every year, the day before Bastille Day, all the firefighters in Paris (i.e. the most beautiful men in Paris) throw big parties at their fire stations to raise money. Because they’re so generous.
I have known about this for over a year and have been counting down the days until July 13th. Okay, I pretty much moved to Paris for the Firefighters Ball. We’ve already discussed my obsession.
Please, try to shield your eyes from being overwhelmed by handsome-life-saving-uniform-central:
Help! My cat's in a tree!
I swear one of these guys LEAPED up from the floor onto the counter in a single bound. Then he saved a grandma, washed a car, put out a fire, and was back just in time to dance to an 80's song with his fire fighting buddies.
I swear one of these guys LEAPED up from the floor onto the counter in a single bound. Then he saved a grandma, washed a car, put out a fire, and was back just in time to dance to an 80's song with his fire fighting buddies.
My friends and I just walked around giggling all night, exclaiming with glee about how happy we were, and how this was the best idea ever. In the history of Paris. Ever.
We went to a station on the Canal St. Martin, so there was a boat, too!
And a billion people. Let's just say, it’s on my calendar for next year--Foremost and primarily for the importance of the fundraiser, quality time with friends, getting to be on a boat, my undying support for the unknown fundraising cause, and certainly not for any less noble or generally superficial reasons.
No comments:
Post a Comment