Ooh la la, you may say, but I say pooh la la. The French are evil, evil people. I’ve known this for quite some time, but was reminded of it again today when I visited a French bakery. I thought I could contain myself to an omelette, but the case of pastries and other baked goods sat there beckoning to me.
First they try to confuse you with their fancy language. This is not really a roll, it’s a brioche. And this is not really bread, it’s a baguette. And if you mispronounce it, don’t worry, they will repeat it back to you properly. That way you know how stupid you are.
And then they stand there all skinny with their French selves making you think you can eat all this French food and look like that. This is a misrepresentation of their food. Apparently the French only eat one bite of anything. I don’t know about you, but after biting into a cream puff I cannot then set the thing down and declare myself satisfied. My body will not consider me to have had a cream puff until the entire cream puff has been tasted and swallowed.
My problems with French women do not end at their eating habits, or lack thereof. The worst thing they have done is the French maid costume. I don’t know what it is about that short back dress with the white apron that whips men into a frenzy, but it does. Make no mistake, French women will put on that get-up, speak some gibberish about cheese and toilets, and then steal your husbands.
I propose we act friendly with the French, uncover their secret recipes, imitate their accents, purchase all their works of art, and then attack. No one actually likes them, so it shouldn’t be too much convincing. I bet the entire rest of the world, including Switzerland, would go along with it. This way we can enjoy all things French without actually having to talk to, or even look at, the French. You can never be too safe.
The Fretful Mother's Blog 
Leave a comment