America, don't make me come up there...

America, I love you. Lord knows I do. But watching you from a distance is painful at best, excruciatingly torturous, cringe-inducing, and "Huh? America? Nope, I'm from Canada, eh!" at worst.

I don't want to let my current rage at the extremist stupid people making us all look like imbeciles overshadow my intense desire to make fun of myself and those around me. I will therefore be fitting my extremist people opinions in italics between hilariously delightful non-political anecdotes. If you don't care to hear my "outsider" opinion, skip over those parts and let the hilarity ensue.

Obama is Hitler. Obama is Kim Jong Il. Obama is Karl Marx. If rabble rousers are just throwing scary people on signs, here's a few I'd like to see that make about as much sense but are far more entertaining -- Obama as Tony Soprano (awesomeness). Obama as Voldemort (he's a noseless dictator wannabe and that's scary!). Obama as Captain Hook (Captain Hook is a fascist socialist communist nudist pirate, dammit, and you can't convince me otherwise.)

So tra la la. My French teacher is a bit on the dramatic side but I like her. For today's lesson I had to read a short story about a man who lied for pleasure his entire life. Then he killed his best friend and his best friend's family in a car accident. Now granted, that's what I got out of it my first read-through. Upon further inspection I discovered the whole thing was a lie, even the part about having a best friend and yes, the killing part. Better, I suppose, but umm.....still weird maybe?

I also had to read a short story about a woman who caught her best friend's husband with another woman. Following was a series of questions surrounding the ole moral dilemma. Do you tell? Do you keep quiet? Do you shoot the husband? Do you have an affair yourself because hey, that looks like fun? Sigh. I don't know what I'd do. And I SUPER don't know in French. How do you say, "What Would Jesus Do?"

Obama is Catwoman. Obama is Mick Jagger. Obama is Garfield.

Just for kicks, she handed me a list of common terms of endearment used in France. Some were sweet, some were sickeningly sweet and some I just plain didn't understand. When I asked about one in particular, she said, "It means pussy. Pussy. My pussy? It means my pussy." Oh dear Lord stop saying that. Finally, since I hadn't said anything and she wasn't sure I understood, she switched up the terminology to "small cat" and I yelled, "Oh please, for the love of all that is good in the world, say 'kitten'." French class got REAL awkward there for a minute.

Stop the Socialist Public Library System. I never use the library. I can afford to buy my own books. Why should I pay for you, lazy person who can't afford books, to have books? I hear Obama was born in a library. This means he is not American.

I have a friend here who offended her French sister-in-law, Mimi, and has no idea how. (Perhaps it was the avocado?) Her husband also seems to have offended everyone in his office, as no one is speaking to him anymore, and he also has no idea why. Stories such as these -- us hapless, uncouth Americans offending time and time again with no clue -- are frightfully common in the ex-pat community. So common, in fact, we've had to coin a new phrase. So now, if someone stops talking to you inexplicably, you can say, "I dunno. They just went all Mimi on my ass."

We must put an end to the Socialist Fire Department. I will most likely never have a fire at my house. Why should my tax dollars be spent to put out a fire at yours? Put out your own damn fire. Do not be fooled! Obama is Smoky the Bear! U-S-A!

The laundromat didn't work out so well. With joy in our hearts, Al, the Loosh and I walked to the laundromat down the street to launder future baby girl's clothes with the added benefit of a clothes-softening dryer. But it was crowded. And it was so frickin' expensive. The system was incomprehensible, involving a machine on the wall that looked like HAL from 2001. Al had to push many buttons but button pushing did not seem to be connected to effective laundering. By the time the laundry was washed and dried hours later my Al looked like he either wanted to die or kill someone. I hope baby girl likes that special scratchy clothes feeling.

Maybe if the U.S. nightly news programs covered actual world events and the doings of world leaders as opposed to someones cat stuck in a toilet, we would be able to distinguish between Hitler, a murderous dictator, and a democratically elected President attempting to fix a health care system that's ill-serving and bankrupting millions.

Awwww, but look at that cute little kitty's face! Stuck in a toilet, by golly!

WE'RE NUMBER ONE! WE'RE NUMBER ONE!

YOU LIE, mon chou, and keep your government hands off my Medicare,
MJ