Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Damn AOL Anyhow!

(It ate it before I could save it.)

I hoped that Michelle didn't understand this word (used as an adjective, noun, adjective in sequence) and that Richie wouldn't react to it.

I remarked gently that I speak French.

Not appeased at all, he yelled, "That's another thing! The French hate it when Americans try to speak their language -- they all say how badly you do it!"

At this, I began to take umbrage. I have been fluent in French for 30 years. I said so in no uncertain terms. I remarked upon the gratitude foreigners have demonstrated when "ugly Americans" make the attempt. I was quite stern about this.

Suddenly, he began to laugh an said, "You are just like my mother! You remind me so much of my mother!"

What happy news!

"Nah, it's true, man. No one gets the last word in with my mother," he said. Eating swiftly, forking his steak in and swilling down his wine, he interrupted his meal long enough to tell us how to get along with the French.

Resting his fork on the side of his plate, he picked up his wine glass and said, "If a French person offers you something -- a drink, a bit of food -- you are to say, 'Oh, I don't think so ...' and then you let yourself be persuaded. Then you say, 'Oh, I've never had this! It's wonderful!' They will love you from then on!"

I rebutted, saying that all the waiters I smiled at and tipped 20% wanted to follow us home.

To Be Continued.

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