Lexi decided to write an entry for my blog!
YAY! All words from here on are Lexi's:

What to do since I’m sitting in the dark in an apartment in Paris with a migraine while mes amis are gallivanting around the city drinking wine? I write an entry for AJ’s blog.

(Click "read more" to read the rest of what Lexi has to say. It's hilarious!)

AJ, I imagine you’ll be particularly enthusiastic when you hear about this since you know I’ve taken a strong position against blogging… it seems to be about as addictive as gambling – although I’ve taken a bit of a liking to that habit after my winnings over break – and just as useless. But hey, look what I’ve already learned? You can ramble when you blog, which I certainly never get a chance to do as a journalist. Plus, being a writer, I can’t just sit here in my sleeping bag and do nothing! And of course, I was a passive witness to the events of this afternoon and can thus recount them in a manner that your audience will appreciate.

As I lay (lie, laid?) in my “bed” this afternoon – that being my sleeping bag and sleeping pad on the carpet of our cute but tiny Paris apartment (mind you, I take up pretty much our entire living room) – with my bag pulled over my eyes to shut out the artificial light that aggravates my migraines, I heard Andrea run out into the hallway yelling for Suzelle. Word has it that she was in her underwear, although I cannot attest to this myself since my bag was over my eyes. I have no idea what she was yelling about or why she was trying to catch Suzelle before she left the building, but it didn’t matter because minutes later I heard a scream that was unlike the others. It was warranted – AJ had slipped and managed to get a huge splinter lodged in the bottom of her foot.

Luckily, we have level-headed Monica living with us, who by the way, could have earned substantially better pay had she gone into nursing instead of journalism. So the women in our apartment spent a good 15 minutes of our time in Paris picking the splinter out of AJ’s foot while she hollered and apologized for its appearance. That is, Monica spent those 15 minutes with the pin and tweezers, I think Suzelle was squeezing AJ’s hand, and I lay in the dark thinking about how lucky AJ was that she hadn’t fallen on her ass.

Now the girls have left and I’m still here in this dark apartment, eating dry cereal called Top Miel by the glow of my computer.

A total of four journalists now have told me that the best way to start a career as a foreign correspondent is to pick an underreported country, go there and write. It can be a lonely life, they say. But it must be worth it if those positions are so coveted. And who has time to wait around to gain five years of experience before getting promoted to write abroad? In five years, I want to be done with international reporting and back in the States to have a family. I’d best get rid of my travel bug now, eh?

Oh, this blogging has inspired me; I’ve graduated from the cereal to bread with jam. I think I may even turn on a light.