08.05.31: No skirts, please

So I was in our cute little town last month running a few errands when I saw Mr ImSuperior Newspaper man on the sidewalk in front of LaPresse in a kilt. Really. I didn't have time to stop and say anything at the time, so I just looked at him as if to say: Why are you wearing a skirt? and kept on about my business.

This past week-end I went into LaPresse to buy my usual copy of the week-end edition of LeMonde (you know, the one with the New York Times section hidden in the middle) and Mr ImSuperior was working the cash register. He had on a white t-shirt that said in very big bold black letters: "Je suis à côté un con" and a big black arrow underneath the words pointing to his left, i.e., in the direction of all his customers when he is at the register. The catchy little slogan translates roughly like: I am standing next to an asshole.

When I enter the news shop, I read his tee (and it probably took me a few more seconds than your average french guy, admittedly), he points to the word 'con' and says: "it means asshole", 'con' being the only word on the tee that he assumed I might need a little help with.

Well, as it turns out, the famously gracious current french president was at the Salon d'Agriculture earlier this year (a big damn deal state fair) when he said to one of his impudent french citizens: "Casse toi, pauvre con." This became a big deal, because Mr Sarkozy's phrase, roughly translated, means: Get out here, you poor bastard (or asshole, if you prefer). So, that is when I learned the expression "Casse toi" and also the word "con".

So, I said, in french, heavily accented, to be sure, "Thanks to your president, I learn all of the most polite french expressions", which brought a small smile to the only other customer in the shop at the time, a seemingly pleasant middle-aged french woman.

And then, of course, I attempted to buy my week-end journal, when he of course harassed me somehow in french I didn't understand.

So I got real close to him, and I looked him right in the eye, and said:

What's the matter, d'ya lose your skirt today?

He said, VERY defensively in a little tiny voice, a few octaves higher than normal: I didn't LOOOse it, it's just in storage until the next event.

I said: Like a dance or a ball, or something?
He said: Yeah, like that.

I gave him the 2€30 for the paper, said: happy dancing, and left.

The journal was more fun to read than usual this week-end.

Thought you might wanna know,