I took three years of French in high school, and then another year in college. After bullshitting my way through the three years in high school, I was able to remember exactly one sentence: les nuits, tous les chats sont gris. I had been a stud in Latin class, but then spent three years going "eeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." while stalling for my French teacher to call on somebody else. But the best was in college, where my French professor made fun of us for being too stupid to go to a real college. "Hey, they PAY me to be here." He also coined my college as "The Harvard on the Appomattox." Awesome.A Tree Grows in Brooklyn now marks the second straight book I've read that includes my pet phase "at night, all the cats are gray," along with this Ben Franklin book I mention in a post wherein Benny Frankenballs talks about knockin' dust offa them sugar walls is just as good (or better) than some young, sweet honey.
What the fuck? Two straight books? And this streak coincides with my high school reunion last weekend. High school reunion, plus my signature go-to phrase from high school popping up everywhere? I'm not saying that this is somehow proof that my high school girlfriend and I are going to be getting back together, but can you really say that it proves otherwise? Fucking spooky, n'est-pas? Maybe I can finally get my letter jacket back then.
Sigh.
6) After not responding to my calls/pleas on this site etc, I saw my high school girlfriend over Xmas. To her credit, she kept things cool, as her husband was there, and did not let on at all that we're about to start our lives together. I could not help but smile when she climbed in his lap and made out for a while and told him how much she loved him. "Well played," I chuckled, "no one here suspects a THING." I did think her taking him upstairs and then coming back with her hair messed up and her sweater missing was laying it on a bit thick, though. "Easy," I thought. "We're not looking for a goddam Oscar here."
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