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The Cannes Journals #1

05.12.2004

THE CANNES JOURNALS will not be a thorough coverage of the CANNES FILM FESTIVAL, but rather, a slimy, dirty, personal and likely-to-be quite unsavory pack of misadventures and thoughts that knock up against my scrotum (i.e. head) as I scoot around the French Riviera over the next 10 days or so. JOBLO.COM DOES CANNES will be the more movie-oriented focus of my coverage, so if uninterested in my own personal bullshit, please head on over there. This section is actually more like a personal diary to show my kids one day...that is, if I ever have kids. That is...if I actually ever get married. That is, if I actually ever get laid ever again...well, you get the point. It's for the kids. By the way, I'm not actually staying in Cannes (can't afford it), but a small town 10 minutes out from it, called Juan Les Pins. It's a nice, quiet place and I recently enjoyed a coffee with a certain Hollywood actor who, oddly enough, apparently lives here with his lovely girlfriend/wife/stick, Vanessa Paradis. Oops, sorry...that was just a dream I had. Call me, Johnny! I'm in town, dude.

<CLICK PICS TO ENLARGE>


Pretend that you're in MEMENTO, dude...

AIRPLANES & AIRPORTS SUCK

I'm not gonna bore anyone with all of the minutely dirty details of my day and a half of attempting to get from Montreal to Cannes, but believe me when I say that if ever your sister gives you a "cat hair for good luck" before you leave on your next trip...turn it down. From hitting the trifecta in the plane ride (kid crying, turbulence and sitting right next to the shitter), to a 10-hour layaway in Zurich, Switzerland to ultimately landing in Nice, France without the accompaniment of my luggage, I was glad to finally see a friendly face in the taxi driver who was nice enough to drive me to my hotel (after I got lost) and charge me, NOT ONLY for the ride to the hotel, but apparently for the ride that he took to come pick me up!! That's right, folks...that's how it works down here. Taxi cabs start charging you AS SOON AS YOU CALL THEM UP. By the time this dude picked my ass up, I was already down 12 Euros (which is French for F*ck you)

Oh, and that I mention that I was also doing a filmmaker friend of mine a "favor" by dropping his films off in Cannes for a distributor, but since his films were in my luggage....baaaaah!!! Luckily for me, some moron American girl apparently picked my luggage up instead of her own and only realized it a full day later! What... is.... wrong... with... some... people? But like I said, I'm not gonna get into all that.  That would be self-centered and personal crap that none of you really give a shit about. Maybe my kid will care one day. Then again, who am I kidding. The kid's likely gonna turn out gay and hate me because I went to France and never brought him anything! (I was broke, you ungrateful jerk!)

And what's with all the French guys walking around in Army fatigues and machine-guns strapped around their shoulders at the f*ckin' airports? Give it a rest, fellas. You guys lost all the wars, bailed on the States in Iraq but have the nuts the walk around your airports in berets, scaring the shit out of 12-year olds who just came to visit the French Mouse at Disneyland Parees? Putooyey...I spit on your machine guns! PS: If I never return from France, please make sure that the proper authorities see this write-up. Thanks. Arrow, you can have my comic book collection.

ZURICH IS LIKE IKEA BUT MORE EXPENSIVE

I didn't get to spend much time in Switzerland, but I learned three things while I was there. For one, the German language is one of the scariest languages in the world. Secondly, I learned that people who can speak a variety of different languages are "cool peeps" in my book. And thirdly, I learned that stereotypes are real and that the Swiss are basically very precise, clean and neutral people, and they f*ckin' love their chocolate. I swear, I was there for less than a day and was offered chocolate thrice and once forced to take one at the end of my plane ride. Great chocolate, btw. While I laid awake in my "day room" waiting for my flight, I also noted how I had paid for a hotel room, but apparently been given a leftover set from A CLOCKWORK ORANGE or accidentally placed into an IKEA showroom (see below) Fascinating. I also thought that if ever I was to get stabbed by someone, I'd like it to be in Switzerland since the guy would likely ask me how I'd like to be stabbed (which is a good way to "go out", if you ask me) He'd then insert the blade into my body with precision and cut me only where need be. The Swiss are very precise and my shuttle bus from the airport to the hotel was right on time... Mmmmm, chocolate..

MEN IN SUITS AND GIRLS' ASSES

I'm not one to stare at men in suits or women's asses, but as I landed in France and walked around both the Swiss and French airports, it quickly became apparent to me that 1) European men sure know how to fit into a suit and 2) European women sure know how to fit into an ass. As the "ugly American" that folks surely saw me as, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the gaggle of Jude Law-esque men walking about in their tights Italian threads, smoking a ciggie and talking shit on their cell phones like their lives meant something. It was obvious to me that there was a heap of pretension going on behind those suits (and a certain amount of both metro-and-homo sexuality, but the point was that they looked good, dammit! Myself, on the other hand, I just ordered a ham & cheese sandwich and not only was it greased up with mayonnaise (Richard Gere ruled that flick!), but my "milk" tasted like homogenized cream, or better yet, juice from a mothers' titter. Yuck. As for the ladies, well, most of them had their shit in gear and when I say "shit", I mean their butts, and when I say "gear", I mean their "pants". Ladies Love Cool James but JoBlo Loves Nice Asses. Note the pun in that last sentence as I was actually in Nice, France at the timeframe of the picture below. Yeah...kill me now.

STAY TUNED FOR....

My "brush" with Quentin Tarantino...I don't actually foresee meeting the man, but I get a feeling that I might have a "brush" with him and that in itself, would be a damn decent story for the site. The picture below is of QT in town yesterday with some doofus who looks important. 

Source: JoBlo.com
Tags: Hollywood

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