Debutants + Alcohol

Okay, how about two extremely mediocre posts today to make up for the lack of a point?

So while I needed intermediate credit, as I predicted (due to one hectic semester during my French II course), I was placed in Debutant II. This is because, while my writing section of the placement test may have been stellar for a know-nothing beginner, I bombed the oral half.

This might be due to the fact that when the man giving my test asked (en francais) if I wanted to go to China, I thought he asked where I wanted to go with my dog. So I replied, "I would go to the park." I thought that was a bizarre question. 

As embarrassing as it was when my esprit de l'escalier kicked in, I wiped it off with a, "well, I'll never see that guy again."

That guy ended up being my professor for five weeks. It turns out he's something of an Acadian-country-weird-combo musician that goes by the stage name Blou, despite the fact that he literally wore yellow every. single. day. He was pretty cool, though a stickler for pronunciation. 

One time I slipped up rather badly, to his standards at least. I was reading the list of people that got to visit Smuggler's Cove that day and he asked, "oh, est ton nom sur la liste?" 

"Oui," I smiled as my friend entered, "et tu!"

He gasped, "Tu? Tu? Et quoi classe es-tu dans? Tu es débutant deux!"

I can't help it, I explained. I'm an ex-english major. It's natural. Et tu, Brute?

Me, I was a big fan of the franglais in Canada. The friend I convinced to join me, however, was purely devoted. She tried her hardest, even if she kept accidentally (and even still, incorrectly) saying things like "do me" or:

"Hey. I'm a hot shower."

And while we both adored Canada--more beautiful than the U.S. with better men--halfway through, we were the Tired and the Restless. 

I, for one, missed sitting around and doing nothing but trolling the web all day. Cat missed less finer things, such as the fancy gym she went to. In fact, sometimes she was so desperate that she started hopelessly weight-lifting random objects in our room, like a bottle of Oland Export or a half-empty (that was naturally typed, guess that means I'm a pessimist?) container of Surf (I reckon that's the Canadian version of "Tide"). 

What was that? You were stuck on the phrase, "Oland Export"? And "you're underage," you say? Not in Canada, my friends. Let it be known world-wide that my very first legal purchase of alcohol was of: 

…and some Sangria…and a pack of Mike's…and a Corona, but that last one was for Secret Santa. My residence (Belliloise!) loved the alcohol. 

As for me, I was a beast. Save the Hawaiian soiree when I puked on my new Canadian friend's shoes, but that was due to a combination of things. I felt bad though. The next day when she told me what I did, I just stood there, smiling and nodding, because she was in the advanced class, and I had no idea what she'd just said. 

And that is why I was in a beginner level. People always talking to me, me not knowing what they were saying. Imagine being in classes and activities for four weeks and not really knowing what they were telling you to do differently. 

That, however, allowed me to cruise straight through my course and not have to really feel like I was in school. It made me realize I never want to take a real summer course. 

Anyways, like I said, this particular blog doesn't particularly have a point. Still got tha jet lag.