Taking a departure from my usual gloom and doom in my blog postings....
I ordered some catering from a restaurant in Houston today... a FRENCH restaurant.
Why is it when a man with an accent speaks to me, I automatically begin channeling Minnie Mouse? My voice was high and squeaky, and I had the uncontrollable urge to giggle endlessly. It is absolutely freaky how I allowed this frenchman to speak to me... all professionality went out the window.. he was asking me how tall I was and what color my eyes are.... I mean, the nerve!
I am STILL smiling and giggling to myself :)
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3 comments:
Can I have his number? :)
I know the feeling. My problem isn't with Frenchmen; it's with grandchildren. I can feel myself going into Grandma Voice as soon as I see them.
Sadly, while I have a fair number of accents at my disposal..my French is more Pepe Le Pew than Maurice Chevalier.
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