Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Why I Hate the French:

Once upon a time, there was an attractive, adorable boy named Brandon.

Brandon was going to be a freshman in high school, and he thought that he was really, really cool.  

Brandon fit in really well during the first few days of orientation and was happy to see that he was able to make lots of new friends (a big step up from his experience in middle school).  Within just a few hours, Brandon had found himself a social home with the cheerleaders - every guy's high school dream!  Brandon wanted to impress all the girls and make them like him (Brandon liked being liked by girls).  Brandon began to hatch a devious scheme in an attempt to win the heart of every hot girl on campus;  Brandon took French.

When the first day of French finally came, Brandon was so overcome with excitement, he could barely contain himself!  THIS was the moment he had been waiting for!  THIS was his time to truly shine!  THIS was his chance to win the heart of every hot girl on campus!

But within a week, Brandon realized that he hated French.  He hated the way they use random accent marks that face different directions when they write.  He hated the way they only pronounce half the word and sound like they're puking the other half.  He hated their stupid accents.  He hated French in every way conceivable.

Brandon hated French so much that he gave up trying just a week into the school year.  No amount of impressing hot girls was worth enduring French.  Instead of learning a foreign language, Brandon used his time in French class to flirt with the girl behind him and fall asleep.  Other than that, he had no interest in it whatsoever.

Brandon ended up getting a 4% in the class.  Even if you multiplied his grade by 10, he still would have failed miserably.

This began Brandon's lifelong hatred of everything French (except kissing).  Brandon hated French movies, French food, the French language, and French people.  According to Brandon, everything French should die in a raging fiery inferno.

A year-and-a-half later, Brandon decided to go to EFY (Mormon summer camp).  It would be an entire week spent away from home and parents - being able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted.  He was excited.

Brandon got off the plane and found the shuttle that would take him to EFY.  There was a very hot girl named Jordan that sat next to him.  Brandon will never forget Jordan.  Brandon and Jordan had a very good time together late one night, but that's a story best shared another time.

Everything looked and felt great.  All signs pointed to Brandon having a wonderful week.

Then Brandon met his roommate for the week.  When Brandon first heard his roommate speak, it sent Brandon into a silent nuclear meltdown.  If Brandon weren't so magnificent, he probably would have dropped dead from an aneurysm or something.  Entire civilizations could have been destroyed from the sheer concentrated power of Brandon's indescribable rage.

You see, Brandon's roommate...


Brandon was determined to not have his week ruined.  It was the first week he'd ever had to himself in his entire life and he was not about to let some pretentious Frog spoil it for him.  It was a difficult feat, but Brandon managed to keep his steadily rising hatred towards the French under control - even when the dirty Frenchman would add random French words into sentences even when he obviously knew the English word.

Brandon actually managed to be pretty nice to the Frenchman.  The Frenchman was obnoxious, pretentious, and kind of mean. No one in the group liked him.  Even the girls avoided him (and girls usually flock to foreigners).  Brandon did his best to make him feel included in the group's activities.  However, despite Brandon's best efforts, the Frenchman only had rude things to say to Brandon at the end of the week when they said goodbye.  This did not help Brandon's view of the French.

As the Frenchman left, he turned around and pointed at Brandon with his right hand like a gun, pretended to shoot Brandon, and winked with his right eye while saying "See you later!"

Two years later, Brandon had miraculously graduated from high school despite his terrible grade in French.  Brandon was getting ready to go to BYU.  Being a girl-crazy teenager, Brandon was excited to leave home and start in on his adult dating life.

Brandon went on lots of dates and was very happy.  One girl especially caught Brandon's eye.  Her name was Alisha.

Alisha was short, extremely cute, dark hair, and was from Texas.  Her screen name was CuteSunshine4.  Alisha and Brandon decided to date.  For several weeks, things were going great.  Brandon liked Alisha and Alisha liked Brandon.  Only good things awaited them in the foreseeable future.

One night, Brandon and Alisha were out on a late-night walk.  It was a clear starry night.  They sat down on a bench to enjoy the beautiful night and participate in some (French) kissy time.  In between kissy time, they talked about songs and poems that they had written.

Suddenly, a wild Frenchman appeared!

The Frenchman had overheard Brandon and Alisha's conversation about poetry and had rudely interrupted their kissy time!  He stood and talked to Brandon and Alisha for many minutes.  Brandon had never seen this Frenchman before in his life, but already hated him.  Trying to be polite, Brandon let the ambiguously gay Frenchman stumble his way through the English language without making fun of him out loud for being French.  Alisha was also being nice to him.

Then the Frenchman sat down next to Alisha.

Brandon was sad that kissy time had stopped.  But before Brandon could realize it, all of Alisha's attention was on the Frenchman!  Brandon reassured himself that she was just being nice and that their kissy time would resume once the Frenchman got up and left.

But then Brandon watched in horror as Alisha slowly turned her back on Brandon and faced the Frenchman!

Suddenly, Alisha and the Frenchman were having a full-blown conversation and Brandon was being awkward and trying to lean in so he could participate in the conversation.

The Frenchman talked about his style of poetry - how he'd take phrases that he heard people say throughout the day and piece them together to make them work.  Alisha was intrigued.  Brandon thought it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard in his entire life.

Somehow, Brandon had became the third wheel on a date with a girl that he was previously having kissy time with.  It was a situation that he had never been in before, and was gravely unsure of how to handle it.

After a half hour or so of Brandon stressing about what he could do to turn this situation around and kill the Frenchman, the Frenchman asked Alisha if she wanted to go back to his place with him so he could read her some of his poetry.  It was 1:30am.  She agreed.

Brandon watched in incredulous horror as his first romantic relationship as an adult crashed, burned, and went up in smoke.

As they were walking away, The Frenchman turned around and looked Brandon in the eye.  He pointed at Brandon with his right hand like a gun, pretended to shoot Brandon, winked with his right eye, and said "Good to see you again."

And that, kids, is why I friggin' hate the French.


  1. Should have taken spanish... us brown girls are always swooned by spanish... then you could have danced. ;) I agree the french are turds!

  2. Evil French. The only French people I've known have also been pretentious jerks as well, though I don't know how much of that is just the world being overly saturated with jerks or the fact that these particular people who hailed from France had been brought up to be that way by their French-ness. [This comment brought to you by lack of sleep and lots of laughing as a direct result of the funny post above.]

  3. C'est même pas drôle. ;p

  4. Ugggh we all hate French.Thanxxxx a lot for this story .Should win an award