Friday, July 06, 2007

Holy merde!

Today a letter arrived for me. Specifically, for Madame Buxom. It was greatly festoonee'd with the French stamps, mon dieu, and eet was from the Prefecture of zee Police!

I read through it pretty quickly, but it seems--correct me if I'm wrong--that les petits gendarmes have found my stolen purse. And now they want me to come get it.

Here's the letter:


I have the pleasure to you inform that the objects referenced above and something you something were deposited the 29th of June 2007 in the Service of the Found Objects.

You are disposed of a delay of three months, counting from the date of the posting, for the picking up, in which you presenting to the address and in the hours indicated below. you wish well, something of your passage, you something the present letter and a piece of identification or the declaration of something itself.

If you can't displace yourself, you have the possibility of authorizing a person of your choice, bearing a piece of identification, to operate this retaking. You would well to him put, in addition to the documents cited above, a procurement on free paper, accompanied by a photocopy of your identity piece.

A right of guarding and of a showing of 10 Euros will be perceived at the moment of re-taking.

If these objects are not retired in the something prescribed, it will be disposed conforming vigorously to the rule.

I beg to something, Madame, the assurance of my distinguished consideration,

The Chie of the Office of Found Objects and something that sounds like furniture, foreigners, or furriers, I'm not sure,

Jean-Michel INGRANDT
I know what you're thinking: eight years of French and that's the best she can do?


  1. Maybe blackbird can pick it up for you if she swings through Paris on her way to Italy... just an idea.

    Not that a trip back to Paris to pick up your stolen goods isn't warranted. Or justified, even.

  2. Sounds like a perfect excuse for you to head back to Paris and discover that the city is fun if you don't get pickpocketed!


  3. Mon Dieu! What would Miss T. say?

    Speaking of which, do you remember the first day of French class, when you had to say, "Je m'appelle Poppy"?

  4. M. Echo,

    I do indeed. I mean, "Oui."

    En effet, that might have been the high point of my understanding of the language. Pathetic, isn't it?


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  6. Dear Rodrigo,

    I believe I recently admitted having some trouble with French.

    This does not mean that I have any other foreign language abilities. I know a bit of Latin, and can tell people "tonight I'm going to the movies" in German, but I have no idea what gibberish you're spouting.

    Yours very truly
    Poppy the language-challenged


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.