Viva La France!

Today I met two frenchman and a french woman at a convenience store. They were outside,  huddled over a map of West-By-God-Virginia, while I stared up at the rocky crown of Snowshoe’s neighboring mountain. (Snowshoe is a famous ski resort) The gentlemen were staring so fiercely at the map, machine-gun-rattling french, that I assumed they must be confused or lost. I was wrong.

But I did not want them to feel lost. Maybe you have been a stranger in a strange land- I have, and it is sometimes frustrating. I had been inside the store and watched the clerk try to speak with them en francais, but no avail. I felt like helping, but realized my french has nearly disappeared from memory. I am a bit sad, because french is such a fun language to speak.

I returned home to find a blog visit from France. It must be French in West Virginia Day. I am celebrating with the only pseudo-french item in my house- a generous helping of Leseur petit peas, sauteed in rich kerrygold butter. Magnifique!

So- to all you francophiles, I wish you bonne soir (and hopefully I didn’t get it mixed up with Portugese, Hititite, or Romulan- so it does read “Good evening.”)

You have hairy legs…you must come with me!

Some people have fetishes, but whole police departments? That’s going a bit too far…

Several hairy-legged women were arrested by Ontario police, profiled because they had hairy legs, spoke with French Canadian accents, and wore black. Makes you wonder if they were all wearing their “little black dresses.” Is this what happens when we have sickos running a police department? It is a sad day when law enforcement is so warped that they are the ones who need correcting.

I am too far from Ontario or Quebec to protest these arrests- although these women have been set free since then. But, if I was closer, I might call all of my hairy-legged friends to go stand in front of the Ontario police station responsible and hold a Gillette Razor Burn-In. Then, we would speak unintelligible French and dance around with a black silk banner, proclaiming our freedom from the bondage of Razors. Next, we would sing “We Are The Hairy” to the song “We Are The World,” and conclude with a series of “French” insults from Monty Python and The Holy Grail. Following the protest, we would walk to our different vehicles, remove our license plates, and replace them with Quebec license plates…driving off into the night…yelling “you English-speaking pig-dogs…prenez cette! (take that!)”