It seems as though a few of you are concerned that moving to France has made me softy. A cappuccino-drinking, cheese-eating, turtleneck-wearing, Peugeot-driving, conflict-avoiding, overusing-hyphenator, apathetic, romantic softy. A French queer.
And that scares you. But so do Crepes and the Olsen Twins.
My friends, rest your sphincters. Your American influence extends further than I thought possible. Your reach is like a creepy, hairy American inmate named Avocado giving France a reach-around in the community shower. Chilling. Flattering, but chilling.
Thanks to a little town in Colorado called Aurora, the cities of Kentucky and Arkansas, here’s evidence that even my man-gyna can’t be brought out from behind its iron-clad, Globe Cast Brass, Haining Crown Locks Co., Ltd produced padlock protected jock, and into the lime light by the French authority and their evil, silky romantic ways.
That's my kitchen.
But ah hah! See how quickly your concerns turn to pride and relief? My how quickly Avocado can stroke your ego. Wipe your brow my American friend. The Blue just walked in on you and your hairy backpack. Your reach ain’t done gone as far as you thunk.
You forgot to print an instruction manual in English.
If you’re keeping score, my Micro-ondes avec Gril et Convection Mode d’emploi only explains how to use this 900 W, Microwave/Grill/Convection Oven combo-nation, via the French language, accompanied by a 200 page cookbook composed by authors proficient only in German, Italian, French and Spanish.
Not only do I not know how to read these languages, but converting F to C and having to choose the number of Watts to use with whatever symbol or combination of symbols I need to choose for whatever cooking mode I wish to use, is making this one tough football for this monkey to hump. If you’ve ever been to the zoo and seen that done, or tried it yourself Nebraska, you’ll have an appreciation of the inherent difficulties the situation presents. I say ‘inherent,’ because ‘intrinsic’ just doesn’t pack the linguistic punch I’m looking for.
Have you seen that scene in Zoolander where Hansel and Zoolander are hip-hop, hippity hip-hop-ing around trying to turn on the computer? That was me. With my new 900 W, Microwave/Grill/Convection Oven combo.
If you look closely, you can see a pizza in there.
Whoot Whoot!
And that scares you. But so do Crepes and the Olsen Twins.
My friends, rest your sphincters. Your American influence extends further than I thought possible. Your reach is like a creepy, hairy American inmate named Avocado giving France a reach-around in the community shower. Chilling. Flattering, but chilling.
Thanks to a little town in Colorado called Aurora, the cities of Kentucky and Arkansas, here’s evidence that even my man-gyna can’t be brought out from behind its iron-clad, Globe Cast Brass, Haining Crown Locks Co., Ltd produced padlock protected jock, and into the lime light by the French authority and their evil, silky romantic ways.
That's my kitchen.
But ah hah! See how quickly your concerns turn to pride and relief? My how quickly Avocado can stroke your ego. Wipe your brow my American friend. The Blue just walked in on you and your hairy backpack. Your reach ain’t done gone as far as you thunk.
You forgot to print an instruction manual in English.
If you’re keeping score, my Micro-ondes avec Gril et Convection Mode d’emploi only explains how to use this 900 W, Microwave/Grill/Convection Oven combo-nation, via the French language, accompanied by a 200 page cookbook composed by authors proficient only in German, Italian, French and Spanish.
Not only do I not know how to read these languages, but converting F to C and having to choose the number of Watts to use with whatever symbol or combination of symbols I need to choose for whatever cooking mode I wish to use, is making this one tough football for this monkey to hump. If you’ve ever been to the zoo and seen that done, or tried it yourself Nebraska, you’ll have an appreciation of the inherent difficulties the situation presents. I say ‘inherent,’ because ‘intrinsic’ just doesn’t pack the linguistic punch I’m looking for.
Have you seen that scene in Zoolander where Hansel and Zoolander are hip-hop, hippity hip-hop-ing around trying to turn on the computer? That was me. With my new 900 W, Microwave/Grill/Convection Oven combo.
If you look closely, you can see a pizza in there.
Whoot Whoot!
