Friday, November 19, 2010

French stinkbugs smell like beef products

Today is the one week anniversary of the day that I accidently kidnapped a Frenchman. Don't worry, I didn't lure anyone into a van with promises of free candy or use physical forces of any type. It truly was an accident and truly makes for a nice blog entry. Feel free to follow along.

I was an attendee of a small social gathering at a new friend's home and I was having a marvelous time. The party had been active for about an hour and I had already had an opportunity to discuss three of my top five favorite conversation topics: tall creepy men, baked ziti, and anything that will allow me to tell a ridiculous story about myself. The other favorite talking points include my vast knowledge of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream and other dairy products as well as the mating traditions of wild animals. Unfortunately those topics will need to be discussed at a later party.

As I was chatting with my new friends, I noticed a suffering stinkbug clinging to a window shade for dear life. Although I was devastated that I was going to have to put my conversation on hold, I was also in the mood to save a life. I always save bugs and allow them to continue their lively bug lives in the wild. I do this for a few reasons. 1.) If the roles were reversed, I would appreciate it if the stink bug would let me continue my life rather than mash me against his/her shoe. 2.) I like to consider myself a hero of sorts and 3.) although karma is sort of an asshole; I am not.

I separated my heart and soul from my wine glass scooped the stinker into my hand and carried him safely to the front door of the apartment. I swung the door open with my free hand and without hesitation, I threw the stinkbug into the air with intensions of allowing him to live a life of freedom. A life without the fear of falling into my wine glass.

If you get anything out of this post let be that you should always look ahead before sending stinkbugs into the air. As soon as the stinky bug left my finger tips, I realized that there was a tall man walking towards the door. Nothing could be done to prevent the stinker from hitting this man in the forehead.

As the bug bounced of the man's head, I tried to hold my giggles inside and offer him a sincere apology, but I couldn't keep it together. We both began to laugh and all seemed to be forgiven. Just as I was about to go back inside, Buggie man asked in a strong French accent if I knew where apt 717 was located. Ordinarily, I would have made up a set of convincing directions and sent him on his merry misguided way, but I had already thrown a bug at his head and I figured honesty might be a nice thing to try out for a change. Also, it is worth noting that there are few things that I love more in this beautiful world than bald men and cheese. Men who barely speak English happen to be one of those things. I couldn't have told him a lie if I wanted to.

I admitted that I didn't know the apartment complex well and therefore was not qualified to give directions and asked him where he was from.

" Me name eees Seeevan. I am from Fronce"

That was the moment I fell in love. I simply knew that I had to impress him with the 2 years on French that I took and barely passed in College.

"ummmmmmm. Je m'appelle Erin. Uuuh. J'adore le fromage" was the only thing that I could remember.

For those of you who are not as skilled in the French language and culture as I am, that translates into " My name is Erin. I love cheese."

There was a moment of awkward silence before I realized that I was granted a rare opportunity to act as an American ambassador of sorts. it was my patriotic duty to give Sevan a cultural experience to share with his Mere and Pere back in his homeland.. I took him by the hand and dragged him across the hall to introduce him to my friends, repeating the phrase " Welcome To America. The land of boxed wine."

Turns out, I was not the only lady in the room in love with his French accent and Sevan was automatically the the center of our 3 wined circus. Although he occationally mentioned that he had friends waiting for him in apt 717, he never actually left our group. He spent the evening discussing the difference between French and American women, and taught us essential phrases in the French language, such as " Your Mother smells like beef products".

I think that I will add "kidnapping forgieners" to my list of skills. It will join my other talents of blowing spit bubbles off my tongue and coloring inside the lines.


mikestorrs said...

You keep us laughing. You’re my funniest oldest daughter.

jason said...

why is that french stink bugs smell like beef product? I've smell the scent of these insects and I couldn't resemble the two.