Here's A Clue -- Run!
I've found that when you live in a country where you don't speak either of the two official languages, you often find yourself relying on context clues, such as facial expressions, inflection, intonation, hand movements, and the likes, to provide you with some clue as to what's being said. If I do say so myself, I've gotten quite adept at reading these non-verbal forms of communication. A recent example:
I was coming home from dinner the other night and stopped at the crosswalk to wait for the signal to change. (Ironic how much "action" takes place at crosswalks in my life.) A well-dressed older man, walking a dog on a leash, came and stood next to me. I looked down at the dog and immediately threw up a silent prayer that the dog not jump on me. The man, seeing me look at his dog, said something to me in French.
Now, as you all know by now, my French is quite limited at this point. But, I was fairly confident, bolstered by months of interpreting non-verbal communication, that he was asking me if I wanted to pet his dog. Rather than engage him in the whole "I don't speak French" conversation, I was tempted to just say "oui" and put out my hand, but, instead, I opted for silence.
The man, obviously one of those over-the-top pet-lovers, walked a little closer to me and repeated his question. Since it would be too rude to ignore him twice, I turned to him and said, in my best French, "Je ne parle pas francais." (Obviously, his ability to read body language was not as well-honed as mine, because if it were, he would have picked up on the fact that there was no way in hell that I was going to pet his dog. What can I say? I'm not that big of an animal lover.)
He then asked, "English?", to which my fine Southern upbringing obligated me to reply, "oui." And, as proof positive of how well I am doing at reading context clues, he leaned closer to me, and asked, in perfect English, "Do you want to pet my penis?"
© 2006 Cindy Lane. All rights reserved.
I was coming home from dinner the other night and stopped at the crosswalk to wait for the signal to change. (Ironic how much "action" takes place at crosswalks in my life.) A well-dressed older man, walking a dog on a leash, came and stood next to me. I looked down at the dog and immediately threw up a silent prayer that the dog not jump on me. The man, seeing me look at his dog, said something to me in French.
Now, as you all know by now, my French is quite limited at this point. But, I was fairly confident, bolstered by months of interpreting non-verbal communication, that he was asking me if I wanted to pet his dog. Rather than engage him in the whole "I don't speak French" conversation, I was tempted to just say "oui" and put out my hand, but, instead, I opted for silence.
The man, obviously one of those over-the-top pet-lovers, walked a little closer to me and repeated his question. Since it would be too rude to ignore him twice, I turned to him and said, in my best French, "Je ne parle pas francais." (Obviously, his ability to read body language was not as well-honed as mine, because if it were, he would have picked up on the fact that there was no way in hell that I was going to pet his dog. What can I say? I'm not that big of an animal lover.)
He then asked, "English?", to which my fine Southern upbringing obligated me to reply, "oui." And, as proof positive of how well I am doing at reading context clues, he leaned closer to me, and asked, in perfect English, "Do you want to pet my penis?"
© 2006 Cindy Lane. All rights reserved.
posted by Cindy Lane at 6:37 PM
2 Comments:
Cindy,
"Thanks, but I have a pet penis of my own at home!"
Maybe the dog'ss name was Peanuts.
Yeah right.
Did you ever dream you'd get propositioned on a regular basis at this point in your life?
I think that is also the secret line that Pat used to pick up all those girls at Victory's. He would never tell me. He said that I couldn't handle the power of the line. If I knew then, what I know now...
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