Parlez-vous French Toast?

 

Oui! Oui!

Now, put zee caramelized apples on top of zee French toast and voilà! Ve have a breakfast treat that will send you waddling out the door or collapsing to the floor.

Baguette french toast with bacon, caramelised apples and apple syrup

Zee recommended French toast prep:

First, add a slab of butter and copious amounts of syrup.

Note: the butter should float in zee syrup, like a rubber ducky, and perhaps if you’re lucky, zee butter and French toast will set sail for Paris, docking at a café in time for lunch.

Second, zee French toast should spring back when prodded with a finger. Fluffy and stuffy and mucho fattening, exceeding the national carb count allowed for breakfast. An easy fix if you bump up zee French toast to lunch.

Afterward, a siesta is in order, to sleep off the free-fall sugar plunge and carb meltdown from the fatty acid butter blast.

Ah, such a treat. Zee veins play games with chunks of plaque that speed through the arteries, toward zee heart, like a sled on a luge track.

Game over once you cross the finish line, but oh, what a ride! Such a tasty thrill-seeker’s treat before zee plaque hits the coroner’s target on the coronary wall.

I see the light!

No, you don’t!

It’s dark in the otherworldly waiting room. No candles allowed.

That’s why the next step is highly recommended.

Third, put zee French toast back on zee plate and flambé it.

Now, you can see the light.

Parlez-vous French toast?

Endnote: I’ve always felt like a dumbass because I couldn’t speak French. But the realization of my language deficit didn’t hit center stage until after I saw the play, Les Misérables, and couldn’t pronounce it. This post is dedicated to my pathetic French language skills. With that said, “Yo hablo poquito Espanol.”

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Wireless Connection Lost! Patience Not Found!

Bond as Lady Angela in Patience, 1881

Bond as Lady Angela in Patience, 1881 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Recently, after jettisoning from my desktop into cyberspace, Firefox bypassed Google, rerouting me to Internet purgatory, and the message, “Server not found!”

I responded with, “Goddamn it! You lost it again!”

To which Firefox said, referring to itself in third person, “Firefox can’t find the server at www.google.com.”

How could you without Google Maps? 

Ignoring my internal babble, Firefox continued. “Check the address for typing errors such as www.example.com instead of www.example.com.”

I get it! I’m not an idiot!

“If you are unable to load any pages, check your computer’s network connection.”

I did. It’s not your fault! But, your condescending attitude
is pissing me off.

So, I unplugged and plugged the router several times and still just had two lousy blinking lights.

It was time to call Comcast.

My conversation with Miss Voice Prompt went something like —

“Welcome to Comcast. Encuentra in Español, diga nueve.”
Engrish, please.
“Dial the number where you are experiencing the problem.”
Because you know that I’m not using your crappy phone service.
“Dial 1 for high speed Internet, 2 for phone, and 3 for TV.”
Nothing for all of the above?
“If the last three digits of your phone number are 666, press 1.”
I press 1.
“Ah, I see you just made a payment for $150.”
I know. I'm a schmuck!
“An outage has been reported in your area.”
No shit!
“Our technicians are aware of the problem and currently working to resolve the problem.”
Meaning, they’re sitting on the asses drinking coffee.
“If you have any other questions, press 3.”
Why the fuck don’t I have service? No prompt for that?

Then, the insulting, sarcastic, knife thrust in the brain stem —

“Thank you for your patience.”

To which I replied, “Patience not found!”

Does your wireless service get you wired?

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