France Likes To Fuck With You


Over the years, in many friendly supermarkets, I’ve heard “fuck you ” songs blaring as I grab some milk and finish my shopping. C-Lo, Lily Allen … In our area, not many French people speak English.  Though I’m pretty certain they know the f-word.  I’m not sure how these songs are played in America, but I imagine, they are *bleeped*.  Fuck is a pretty strong word in America.  Not something you drop in a typical conversation.  The word “shit” is similar for Americans.  The French “shit” equivalent, “merde” isn’t as taboo.  It’s our “crap.”  I can only assume they feel the same way about “fuck” … this is totally based on the frequency in which I hear the word “fuck” in light conversation and on the radio.

So, when I tuned into RADIO FG, playing the sweet sounds of Billy Ocean, working out the logistics of getting out of my dreams and into my car …  they brought me back in, speaking English with a French accent, “Radio FG, FUCKING GOOD music.”  Thanks France!  Thank you for fucking with me!

The Distributor Of Pain


Delivered beef today to Bordeaux.  Good fun navigating tourists.  Usually it’s the workists, travel to work and back again.  But it’s July, so things are different.

Kevin came along which was great.  He’s very good with iPod Roulette.  A game I play on my own traveling.  Spin the wheel, don’t look away for you may hit a ditch, a tree or oncoming truck, click, click and click, then identify what is now playing.  808 State caught us out.

I pointed out the baguette vending machine.  The all-nighter of bread shops.  This machine supplies  baguette to anyone at any time in any state who can handle a few coins and a button.

One delivery sported the most awesome t-shirt.  An Ultimate Frisbee team in the states and a damn fine idea.  Who doesn’t love the Hoff?  For the ‘H’ year, we had a steer named Hoff.  He munched away, bringing great beef years later.


Hoff aside, we are still working on the square logo.  Our friend offered an example.  A way of saying

  • – we grow grass, good grass, a blend of grass we believe will nurture the animals
  • – cows eat our grass
  • – we eat their meat

… we don’t add anything special.  No cereals.  No anti-juice.  just not sure if you are ready for it.

I like the logo idea it brings you back when food was farmed for reals.  When meat was offered without plastic wrap.  When you knew the name of your farmer.




The King of Silence, my favorite French game.  One, two, three … shut up!  The first person to speak, loses.  And the second and the rest.  Last one silenced is the winner.  Good one, France!


French lesson tomorrow.  Need to get prepared.  économie Domestique is priming me for the hour.



Charts, diagrams, lines pointing and L’humidité.  What’s not to love?  “C’est à la fois un facteur de troubles physiologiques … ”  June has been cold.  I almost cashed in on my facteur de troubles physiologiques by lighting the chauffage.  But, I resisited.  Slipped on my Costco cashmere and carried on.


and Sia clearly appreciating France with her massive hit possibly or coincidentally based on a simple kid game of France with hip child modern dancer.  Her style, vide sanitaire sous le rez-de-chaussée avec great production.  One, two, three …

Tout à Coup



(photo by K. G. )

“All of a sudden” is a great phrase to know.  This week in French, I learned some new phrases.  Phrases that people say, but they don’t teach you in French class.

“Grasse-matinée,” a fat morning was fun.  This came up because the kids are on vacation.  In England, they call it a “lay in” or “lie in”  ( I’ll let you work out the correct google terminology ).  I was trying to convey the American equivalent, but came up short.  American’s don’t lay in much.  They get up and get to work.  But I do remember, back when I was a teen, I would “sleep in” during a week of vacation.  So perhaps, that would work.

I’m very happy to report that I no longer speak in the past tense when I mean the present tense.  Also, through crazy Lego video thingies, I stumbled upon this video about learning French which I found most amusing.

Oh Mercredi!



No French lesson tomorrow because it’s BEEF DAY!!  We’re doing “Steak Box Plus” boxes, which I list in my spreadsheet as “Bum Box.”  We are trying new ways of offering beef to those beefeaters out there.  This round, we minced the front and steaked the rear.  The rear has all the best cuts, you see.  We tried this out with one animal with wonderful reviews.  We sold out quickly.  Yeah!  And we are filling up our next offering.  So, tomorrow, no French lesson … we pack beef boxes.

I learn a lot of interesting French expressions from my children.  I have a running list of French phrases they say that crack me up ( Maximette le cacahuète qui pète ).  Today, I will share one that Lucy told me about.


This is helpful because often when things do not go to plan as they often do ( see raising grassfed beef in France ), you say “Merde!”  Which is not very nice.  Now, I use horrible language in English, I’m naturally drawn to it … must be all the 80’s rap I grew up on.  West Coast against the East Coast.  The swearing was so rampid ( yes, that was “rampant” in rap ), your swear receptors were overwhelmed and turned off.  Now with all these children, I try ( and fail ) to not use such horrible language.  I use “Fuck” … er I mean “Firetruck” ( thanks Michael ).  I say, “Shoot.”  I say “Fucking Fuck!”  blah!  no I sigh instead.  Okay, so I have some work to do there.  In French, in turns out, they too have alternative words to use to express what they really mean.  So if you want to say “Merde!” you can say “MERcredi.”  I know I will use this often.  I would like to build some good habits as I learn another language.

Now I was going to follow up with some Public Enemy, but Brent found this gem the other day.  No need to review my potty mouthed past, let’s begin again with some clean French chart toppers.  I order you to watch this from beginning to end.  You will smile, bop and perhaps learn some French that doesn’t include the word “Merde!”



Now I must investigate “C U Next Tuesday.”  I’m sure I was offended at some point and didn’t even know it ( thanks for that, Gary ).

Birth To Hello Kitty

Glamour Girl

A three-year-old’s logic as shared enthusiastically by Clémentine the unsuspecting youngest who will soon be demoted to just another “middle child.”

Minty: MOMMY! You having a baby!!!

Me: Yep.

Minty: Hello Kitty is a baby.


Minty: You having Hello Kitty!!!! Yay!!!

Vous Comprenez?


There was a point in my life when I was FLUENT in Spanish. More specifically, fluent in Spanish with the buying and selling of expensively priced costume jewelry. Oh how the mehee-canas loved me. Shortly after that, I moved up to the great northwest and lost all but those phrases exclaimed by my favorite mouse and yours, Señor Speedy Gonzales. El Gringo Pussygato, “¡Arriba, arriba, arriba, ándale, ándale, olé, olé, olé, ándale!” But, I was fluent. I used to be. Now, as I learn French the crazy roman idiosyncrasies that English left out as it evolved (linguists can splian I’m sure) comes naturally. Spanish and French structures are not all that different. Pero, Mais, But the verbs are far apart. For the first eight months, I’ve been slack on my French language study. There is too much sun, too many baguettes and too many types of cheese to distract one from learning zee language. But the farm looms. We are to hoping to direct our sales to that of restaurants and niche markets. Which means, I must learn French parfaitement … d’une forme parfaite! And so, I’ve been hardcore French study girl cranked to eleven rated XXX, 24/7 you-buy-it-we-pack-it, word. Which has been quickly improving even in the last five days. I used to be that smiling foreigner smiling in the corner smiling and saying, “it’s good! It’s good!” It’s AAAALLLLL good. When people would ask me if I understood what they were saying (vous comprenez?) I would nod and say, “it’s good.” This is no longer so. I now hear “vous comprenez” with confidence providing a firm retort of “oui!” Yes, I understand!! I do. I can give people things. I can say I’m doing fine. I can buy things. I can go places. She runs fast. They are tired. Really, I could go on and on. Faut que je m’arrête. Okay, so maybe I google translated that one, but I knew “but,” “must,” “stop,” and “I” … just not in that order. There will be a point in my life when I’m all Bjourn Identity, speaking French naturally, rolling off the tongue like bullshit at a status meeting. Today, on disc two of twelve with five or so episodes each I approach with enthusiam because this will grow our business. My superb French will help us kick arse with our superior products. I’m excited and motivated. Fuck yeah! Or whatever the French equivalent is for that…