You say "face" -- I say "fesse"

That's another picture of the Loosh as he continues to describe how he falls down at school. This display went on for quite awhile. He is a very, very intricate faller downer.

Mme. Kickmyass showed up for our French lesson yesterday in a foul, dark mood. I felt afraid, wondering if this was the day she would finally kill me.

During our discussion about reality television, I meant to say it would be hard to live with cameras in your face all the time. Unfortunately, the French word, "face" is similar to the French word, "fesse." In my hurry to get the words out, I got sloppy with my pronunciation. Instead of saying "Gee whiz, it must be tough to live with cameras in your face all the time," I said, "Gee whiz, it must be tough to live with cameras in your buttocks all the time."

Maybe it wasn't the word I wanted but I made a darn good point! That WOULD be tough! I dare anyone to argue. Cringe-inducing as it was, it made Mme. Kickmyass laugh so hard it shook her right out of that terrifyingly bad mood and I no longer felt afraid. I bet she made fun of me later with her friends and a nice bottle of wine, though.

But back to reality television. Unfortunately for the U.S., one of the few reality TV programs from the States that made it over here is The Swan. For those who have completely forgotten this show (good for you), it was about "ugly duckling" women who receive dozens of plastic surgeries to make them "beautiful." Then they compete against each other in a beauty pageant.

Ack, just writing those words makes me feel dirty. Mme Kickmyass has seen a couple episodes and asked me questions such as, "How can those surgeons sleep at night, knowing they disfigure women to the point their own children don't recognize them?" (She had just seen an episode in which the woman's children ran crying from the room and were comforted by... producers. Not even mental health professionals. In the show's defense, when my mom turns up looking like a transvestite, I, too, only want to be comforted by producers.)

When I told her the surgeons probably not only slept well but attracted a bazillion new patients to their practices thanks to their appearance on the show, Mme. Kickmyass looked at me like I was the devil and came from Devilland. "You're telling me they weren't vilified? Condemned by society?" Nope, I responded, they probably bought new private jets. Then I gave her a bright smile, hoping to reassure her this was not a sign of impending apocalypse. But it probably is.

Al and I watched a show on TV about the firemen/policemen trained to rescue people out of the Seine, usually drunk people who fall off the quai. We learned it is forbidden to swim in the Seine because the amount of rat droppings in the water has rendered it a serious health threat. The men who are trained to jump in after stupid, drunk, sometimes naked and always skinny people need special vaccines just to swim in it.

I didn't think it was possible but I think the Paris plage just got even more un-enjoyable.

Due date is two weeks from today. I'm at the point now where movement is awkward and, at times, painful. Sometimes, if I have to bend over to pick something up, I just stay down there for a minute, dangling, convincing my fatigued muscles it's worth it to pull me back up again. This is fine at home but today I dropped my wallet in line at the grocery store. I dangled for a minute (check-out lady probably wondered where the hell I'd gone) until our favorite security guard came to my rescue.

It would be hard to live with cameras in many places, mon chou,
MJ