New Rules: Using French in everyday conversation

Since we are a cultured lot here on Project Mayhem we like to use French words occasionally in everyday conversation.  Not only does it demonstrate that we appreciate the finer things in life, like wine, culture and cheese, but it impresses the hell out of the natives and soothes our bruised egos.  Here is an approved list of Project Mayhem French:

  • OUI – even if you’ve never taken high school French, you know that oui means “Yes.”
  • NON – same thing here except it’s the opposite of oui, and that means “No.”
  • MON DIEU – “my God!” as used in this sentence, “Mon Dieu, this TPS report is kicking my ass!”
  • N’EST-CE PAS? – means “isn’t it so,” or “right,” as in “You’re a real jerk, n’est-ce pas?”
  • MERDE – “shit.” Great word to use when you are getting exasperated.  “Merde! I just stubbed my foot on this stupid armoire!”
  • C’EST LA VIE – “such is life.”  As in, “My best friend ran off with my wife, my truck, and my fucking dog.  C’est la vie!”
  • AU NATUREL – “undressed” or in “the natural state.”  Bob:  “Hey, that new intern, I wouldn’t mind seeing her au naturel, non?”  Marge: “You’re a real jerk, n’est-ce pas?”
  • QUELLE HORREUR – “what a horrible thing,” or “how awful!”  Seen in Paris, “Quelle horreur!  Is that American putting ketchup on my quiche?”

Ripping flesh…

Nine months ago I hadn’t eaten meat for twenty years,
Then something shifted deep inside I suddenly changed gears.
Perhaps back then, in fluffy times, being veg was well and good,
When saving earth was in theory something that you should,
But “should” is gone, it’s out the door, replaced by “shall” and “must”,
No more time to “have a dream”, it’s do or die or bust,
When theory shifts to pratice, keep your both feet on the ground,
Cuz only them that walks the walk will still be standing round,
Times are harder, meaner, with no button to “refresh”,
So me I’m changing stances, and gone back to ripping flesh.

…handicapped parking spaces

No…it’s not what you think it’s going to be.

Our dear finned friend, Shark, requested a rant as my first post.  Five minutes ago, I could have waxed moronic about how much I loathe WordPress, how CSS can fuck off and die until I re-read my handy-dandy manual and railed against fonts.  Alas, I wasn’t in touch with my inner hate so I have to draw on an experience from Monday.

Years ago, my father decided to arbitrarily launch his bad self through his dashboard window.  Six months of bed-ridden recovery later, he received his shiny, new hip. Bionic daddy – I has one!  He moves around very well with the exception of a drop foot that can hinder his mobility from time to time.  Even with this challenge, he has never filed for a handicap parking permit.

As I type this very post, my spine is deteriorating.  The days where I cannot walk are few and far between but they are, without a doubt, hell.  I will not file for a handicap parking permit.

You see…even those with mobility issues, be it intermittent or constant, reserve these precious spaces for those who truly need them.

The other day I had to loot the ATM.  Kang’s Coiffure House requests that all tips for hairdressers be remitted in cash.  I don’t carry cash.  Ever.  Not wanting to piss off the woman who could ruin my world for a very long time, I dragged myself to the ATM (or MAC machine for the Philadelphians).  Imagine my surprise when I notice a spry, 20-something pull into the *only* handicapped parking space as I was retrieving my cabbage.

Not one to bite her forked tongue, I turned around, looked the asshat directly in the eye and…

Kang:  Excuse me, sir.  Are you handicapped?  I didn’t see your placard.

Asshat:  No.  No I’m not.

Kang:  Would you like to be?

Asshat:  :stammers:  Ermmmm…

Kang:  :points at car:  Really.  So…you’re not handicapped and you’re parking where?  You’re parking in a spot for the handicapped when there is a standard parking space available – right next to you. That’s stupid.  Just stupid.

Asshat:  No.  You are.  (really – this is the level of discourse)

Kang:  No.  I’m not stupid.  I’m not the one wearing a Wal-Mart name tag.

If there is one thing that will drive me to the brink of causing a bar fight with a broken bottle, pissing on the meek is at the top of my list of things that enrage me.  Unless it is a matter of life or death, there is no reason to overlook common consideration for the sake of convenience.  None.  Ever.

For whatever reason, I find myself absolutely fearless when it comes to douchebaggery. I realize that I may very well be on the receiving end of a slap or worse, yet that critical filter that keeps people from confronting others simply does not exist in my world.

If you treat others poorly and I bear witness to it, I’m going to say something.  That’s just the way I roll.

and he’s back!

I woke up this morning feeling like last night’s 6 o’clock news:  Local and full of fail.  I don’t expect much, but does it really take over a minute to plug in an anchor’s microphone?  Didn’t you have an entire day to prepare for the news?  It’s okay, I forgive you, as I forgive myself for being so impatient.

Anyhow, as I dragged my sorry ass to work I pondered my mundane existence as a “soccer dad.”  Granted, my sons are not old enough to play soccer, but it’s just a matter of time.  Feeling like I was going nowhere, I wondered if anybody would miss me should my Yaris drive off a cliff?  Then I remembered that I live in Central Illinois and there isn’t a damned cliff around for miles.  Oh what could possibly save me from this so-called life?

Perhaps a message over Facebook from my good friend Kang, who was lamenting that nobody ever blogs like we used to.  For shame!  A few messages later we had our merry band of rogues, pirates and fly-by-night bloggers assembled: the few good men (and women!), the dream team, the forgotten, prideful, and borderline psychotic people who can think of nothing better to do than blog.  And blog we shall do…  The SHARK is back!

…and she’s back!

Do I spring into the room with a flourish to announce my return or should I simply lay in wait in see what develops?  Such critical decisions, yes?

Shortly before the Kanglet arrived, I decided to drive the knife through the heart of KangWorld.  I’m still a bit concerned about exposure since I’m all mom-like now and thus very protective of my real life persona but staying quiet is just.  killing.  me.  There is far too much noise in my noggin, far too many experiences that need to be catalogued and documented for all perpetuity, far too many words begging to be formed into the meatball that is one of my musings.

/me raises tiny fist and says “I wish I knew how to quit you!”

So, I’m back with a bucketful of new experiences to share, a passel of jumbled thoughts and the visceral need to scribble down everything.  Hopefully, I will be able to deliver more than intermittent profundity and random quirky observations.