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Gotta love the French!
Gotta love the French!
A few years ago, I had the pleasure of working in Paris for a couple weeks. Ya know, I don’t care what any of my fellow countrymen say. I just love the French. And I commend them for having the huevos to stand up to Bush and his cronies and say, “Invading selective nations is not something we take lightly. You’ll get no help from us.” Bravo! If only the Brits could’ve had balls that big. But that’s politics, and that’s another story.
Before going to Paris, I had worked with a couple French guys here to prepare for what we needed to do there. They were Deni and Dameon, and their English was great. They hung out with me in Colorado for a few weeks. I took them late spring skiing and showed them around, and we got to be friends.
They certainly returned the favor for me in Paris. Long lunches, dinners, great advice on where to go and what to do. Ah, the French. They make no bones about the excellence of their culture: their wine, their language, their art, their clothing, their lingerie, their sensuality, their women (and oh damn, their women, wha ha!) . And they are right.
My trip was in May, and I think the French have a holiday pretty much every week in May. So both weeks were Monday-off for the country. On the first 3-day weekend, Deni asked me what I was going to do (insert French accent):
“So Gene, what weel yoo do during your 3-day weekend? Perhaps you will go to zee south of France, to zee beaches? Or to some vineyards? Or, if you would like, go to Normandy to zee beach with me, which is where I am going? Or, just stay een Paris and see the Louvre and other things?”
Me: “Well, actually, I was planning on taking a trip to England this weekend.”
Deni: “England??! ENGLAND? Why would you want to go to zat shitty, rainy, cold, bland place when you can spend zee weekend in FRANCE????” Then he gesticulated and did that little spit thing they do. I think I heard a merd or con (shit head or asshole) in there too. I thought the poor guy was gonna punch me, then cry or something. Damn, I think I just insulted my friend!
Me: “Um, well.. It’s to see an old girlfriend who lives in Poole.”
He totally brightened up and smiled, a huge grin: “OH! Eet ees to see a WOMAN! Oh, NOW I understand! Very good!” And he patted me on the back and walked away. Whew.
Did I say ya gotta love the French? I do.
3/29/2006 4:26 pm
hinestl theyre a good group of people and im such a fiid whore...yummm|
Its good to be...ME
4/1/2006 11:08 am
They're still bitter that the world speaks English! |
Shhhhhh! Don't tell! I really like France and a pretty frenchwoman generally knows how to flirt with real style.
And paragliding has so much more caché south of the channel.