I kept saying in broken French "I am Jaws of James Bond. I bite!"
Ben visited last week. We walked around, had a fine meal (that he prepared), visited friends in Toulouse and drank with friends in Montauban.
He came in Wednesday morning and we had eight hours before we met up with some other English assistants for a going-away drink for Bronwyn. So, we saw everything in Toulouse and watched '300'. We stopped at a grocery store and gorged ourselves on cheese and baguettes during our walk, though we were tempted by ass steak and ass kebab.
The next day we saw everything in Montauban. And drank with friends at our favorite Flemish bar. After two 'girafes' of beer Ben and I were getting a bit silly. He was amusedly annoyed by the couple in the corner behind us making out and suggested we fight the guy. I kept telling him no but eventually agreed. "Alright, if I can bite through this glass, I'll fight the guy."
There were no glass shards in my mouth or bleeding. Just a defeated glass. I weaseled out of the fight and we went on to another bar for just one drink. At the time I claimed it was an accident to the fed-up girls, but I broke the beer glass at the second bar, owned by the giant Russian rugby player, on purpose. Again, no cuts. I did have chapped lips all weekend, though.