Why do you type out your accent? O.O
Why do people use emojis to convey zeir emotions? It iz a way of expression, mon ami. And it is funny! Izn't it fun to read it out loud like zis? If it makez people smile, then I am happy, Hon hon hon!
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Villain And His Underlings Pretend To Be Food Critics Part 2
In a posh three-star restaurant, the mischievous group, led by the villain, sat at a lavish table adorned with fine china and crystal glassware. With Mittens disguised as a grumpy Frenchman and the scientist channeling his inner hearty Italian, they were about to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting staff.
Waiter: (approaching the table) Bonjour, monsieur et mesdames! Welcome to our esteemed establishment. How may I assist you today?
Mittens (as grumpy Frenchman): Sacre bleu! I demand perfection in every morsel that graces my delicate palate. Bring forth your finest delicacies, and don't test my patience, monsieur!
Scientist (as hearty Italian): Ah, bella Italia! I have traveled far and wide in search of authentic flavors. Impress me, my good man. Impress me!
Waiter: Right away, sirs. Our chef takes great pride in his culinary creations. I shall bring you the chef's recommendations promptly.
As the courses arrived, the group's theatrics escalated, much to the chagrin of the restaurant staff.
Mittens (as grumpy Frenchman): (scoffing) Quel désastre! This foie gras lacks finesse. It's a culinary crime! I demand perfection!
Scientist (as hearty Italian): (gesturing dramatically) Mama mia! This pasta, it lacks soul! It's as if the spirit of Nonna herself weeps in despair. Unacceptable!
The villain, his right hand, and the henchmen joined in, playing the role of discerning food critics, adding chaos to the scene.
Villain: (raising an imaginary magnifying glass) My dear waiter, this dish lacks the diabolical essence I had anticipated. The chef must harness the power of evil flavors!
Right Hand: (nodding exaggeratedly) Indeed! The audacity of serving a steak without the screams of anguish from its cattle ancestors. How uncivilized!
Henchman 1: (waving his fork) And the presentation, oh, the horror! The mashed potatoes resemble a chaotic battlefield. I demand symmetrical spud art!
Waiter: (frustrated but trying to maintain composure) Gentlemen, I assure you, our chef is renowned for his culinary expertise. We strive for perfection in every dish.
Mittens (as grumpy Frenchman): (muttering) Pah! Your assurances mean nothing to me. I could find better cuisine in a back alley in Montmartre!
Scientist (as hearty Italian): (clenching his fists) You dare compare this to authentic Italian cuisine? I weep for my homeland's reputation. What an insult!
The group continued their relentless banter, causing confusion and consternation among the restaurant staff. Plates were cleared away with trembling hands, and the chef peeked nervously from the kitchen, trying to decipher the chaos unfolding in his dining room.
Mittens (as grumpy Frenchman): (leaning back, feigning satisfaction) I suppose… it was tolerable. But know this, monsieur, there is much room for improvement!
Scientist (as hearty Italian): (nodding gravely) Yes, indeed. Our taste buds have endured an ordeal today. But perhaps, in time, you shall rise to our expectations.
As the group departed, leaving behind a whirlwind of culinary chaos, the restaurant staff breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be free from their fictitious food critics.
Waiter: (whispering to a colleague) I swear, those customers were more diabolical than any dish we've ever served. Thank goodness they're gone!
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Vorrei ringraziare i giocatori come Kessie, Boga, e Veretout per il loro accenti francese quando parlano italiano. Se hanno ancora un accento francese piuttosto importante dopo anni in Italia, allora il mio accento francese sembra normale. 😅
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Tonight’s earworm. My sister and I wore out the grooves of this album when we were kids.
It was a running gag throughout my secondary and post-secondary schooling that each successive French teacher thought my command of the language was good but that the previous teacher had failed to cultivate the proper accent. Too Québécois! Too Belgian! Too Marseillais!
Well, the Belgian part didn’t come from a teacher; it came from Jacques Brel and Soeur Sourire.
Jeanne Deckers went on to live an interesting life after gaining fame as “The Singing Nun” and leaving the convent in the mid-1960s. While maintaining her personal faith, she became disillusioned with the Catholic Church for not living up to the ideals of Vatican II, even writing a song in praise of contraception, called "Glory be to God for the Golden Pill.” (Loretta Lynn’s better-known “The Pill” wouldn’t be released for another eight years.)
She lived for nearly 20 years with her partner Annie Pécher and worked as a teacher of autistic children. Jeanne and Annie died together by their own hands in 1985, and are buried together under a stone that reads, "J'ai vu voler son âme a travers les nuages" ("I saw her soul fly through the clouds.")
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