Juliette Commagere

So here I am, back where I belong. On a seat, in a van, looking out a window. We just finished a week with my brother, Robert Francis, in Germany, and my my body has finally adjusted from close-to-death-why-did-i-come-here-jet-lag, to the standard hung-over-and-nauseated-look-like-shit-can’t-find-my-sunglasses tour feeling. I haven’t blogged in what feels like forever, so please bear with me as I get my groove back. 

This is my first time touring in Europe in a van, and I much prefer it to the last tour where we had to fly almost everyday. Not just because I am a huge baby just crying my way through the air, but because the van is like our little cozy home, where I get to talk and talk and talk and talk, and the guys get to listen and listen and listen and listen. Also, airports and planes are hot and stanky bacteria breeding grounds. I think the hardest part of our 18 hour journey (including the layover) was not breathing any fresh air. Also, everything in Europe is much closer together and a long drive here is eight hours, vs the 20 hour drives back home. So far, the flat part of Germany reminds me of Wisconson—flat and green with bales of hay, and the north reminds me of the beautiful rolling hills of Pennsylvania covered with trees full of leaves. I can see why so many Northern Europeans settled there because it reminded them of home. Oh Germany, I want to take a bath in your beer while eating your gummy bears. Gummy bears are running rampant in this place, and while I don’t particularly have a sweet tooth, these have the most perfect consistency, and the Best Western puts them on your pillow at night. 

It is so good to have the mother fucking sun out of my mother fucking face for once in my life. Everybody says I will want the sun back really soon but I haven’t thus far. Although waking up as the sun is setting is not the feeling of supreme health that I strive for. Still, the other day it was so beautiful and dark and misty, and there are mysterious woods everywhere, and i just keep thinking about witches and cauldrons and Hansel and Gretel. 

The shows were pretty damn fun—I’d say Cologne wins as the funnest. The girls here have a serious case of the hots for my brother and it’s pretty cute. When I come back, I’d like to see some teenage boys with their arms out stretched for me, please. Thanks. 

Last night we crossed over into France, on our way south to begin our journey with Air, and so far there are no toilet seats in any of the truck stops. And my highbrow observations end there. Oh no wait, another difference about Europe is all the old people. You actually see them out—they’re not afraid to show their faces! They have fun, drink in bars and love life instead of being quickly ushered into the nearest deli. When I get old, I am going to open the hippest bar for olds you’ve ever seen. There is actually one in Indian Wells called The Nest which I LOVE, but I haven’t seen anything similar in L.A. We will be in Lyon tonight and if I don’t eat some of the best mother fucking food of my life, there will be hell to pay. 

Signing off, this is Nash Rambler (head driver), Massive Andre, and 

Leroy Merlin (sat nav controller)

p.s.if anyone has any pics of the shows where i don’t have a double chin, please send them along!