Finally, it’s happened. The people of France have begun a love affair with Breeder’s Digest. And we, in turn, have fallen back in love with France—as we remember it from our high school textbooks. Frankly, we’d forgotten how much we have in common with one another. Thanks, France, for reminding us once again that gays and the French share a mutual admiration for the finer things in life…
Midday drinking.
Decorative plant life that may/may not be fake.
Fur collars that may/may not be fake.
Impossibly uncomfortable wrought-iron chairs.
Plexiglass windows.
Giant pant legs, tiny shoes.
Things that spurt.
Street signs that get blurry after lunch.
Dogs who are just as snobby as we are.
Pink triangles.
Bald painters who feel entitled to paint just because they’re gay/French.
Men who take up too much space.
Unrealistic hair colors on women.
Waiters in mom jeans.
Leather bags with handles.
Faceless straight couples who read in silence.
Bonjour Paris, je m’appelle…
No comments:
Post a Comment