Wednesday, December 10, 2008


I pride myself, perhaps excessively so, on my French. Years of practice lets me go through conversations at the speed of light and is often advantageous in situations where I need to discuss things I'd prefer that other people not understand. It also makes me look cool.

Or so I think.

One of my favorite British sitcoms is set in World War II occupied France, where the Resistance has been saddled with a British Intelligence officer who suffers from the delusion that his French is excellent.

Maybe this is what I REALLY sound like:

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