Je ne sais quoi is Shannon’s blog about discovering the truth about Parisians… one humiliating story at a time.
Sounds like my sort of blog!
Being a Paris blog I felt sure that there would be at least one article about Paris Pavement Garnish (in other words… Dog Crap!), and I wasn’t disappointed.
In Mr Hanky moved to Paris and had ten thousand children we learn that Shannon lives at 3 Avenue de Merde Par Tout and that sooner or later, you’re going to be knee-deep in dog excrement.
Well, I think we knew that already but it is nice to be reminded.
But enough of the Poop and lets get on to the important stuff…..
Stuff like… The Crazy Homeless Metro Violin Lady - Apparently the mere thought of listening to her grate that bow on those strings again, like fingernails a chalkboard, causes Shannon to get rather upset!
Tourists? Problem with Vacationists clogging up the poop strewn pavements? No problem; Shannan has the answers all sorted out.
Mind you, I have a cunning solution myself. It involves Le Chasse and a herb infused red wine sauce. And, of course…. some fava beans and a nice chianti!
They speak French in Paris; what language do you speak?
It is so easy to make mistakes. And Shannon seems to have got the art of the faux pas perfected! Take a look at Condoms, Bestiality and Pregnancy to see what I mean.
I mean, just imagine asking your mother in law that you’ve only met four times for a condom at breakfast time.
Or, on your first outing with your Husband’s extended family, tell them that “Your dog is a kinky little whore!!”
It could be worse though. In a classic Shannon moment, Shannon kisses the Bank Manager. Which really isn’t the right thing to do. On no, not at all!
Eating snails is not cruel!
No, it’s not! Really! The snails don’t mind.
And in How to eat as cruelly as you possibly can, by the French Nation Shannon explains that it’s worse for the Ortolans. Ortolans are tiny little birds that are…
“caught live, held in captivity, stuffed to point of death, drowned in cognac before they are rotisserie cooked. To top it off, they get an extra special dégustation… you suck the goodies right out of the carcass. So, not only have you imprisoned, tortured, drowned and roasted your little feathered friend, you must now hide your eating behind a napkin as you slurp its insides right out of it’s own neck.”
Bet they taste yummy though?
And in The joy (and or misery) of cooking – part one, Shannon talks about that most perfect of French delicacies – Foie Gras. Which is, as she explains… “The basic principal here in case you aren’t up to speed is you’re eating goose liver. A giant, FAT, goose liver. ”
To which, all I can say is… “very tasty giant, FAT, goose liver!“
French Customs that can take some getting used to….
Ah, queuing! Shannon has a few quiet words to say about queuing. OK, I lied about the quiet bit!
And being Fashionably Late seems to require the sort of mathematical calculations that are normally associated with a space shuttle launch!
What about the Bise. What does Shannon have to say about that? How about something along the lines of… “The kiss must go on, no matter what, no matter if I’m sick, no matter if you’re sick, no matter if we’re both sick, no matter if I have Ebola… you get the idea?”
And quite right too – it’s only polite!
And talking of face sucking (were we? Whatever next?) Shannon says this to the lovers of Paris – Get A Room!
And this is why… “I just passed an enamored pair who were actually LICKING each other’s tongues in front of Notre Dame. No joke. Licking. Each other’s. Tongues. It looked like a battle between two fat, pink worms. I’m amazed they had enough saliva left to tell me to stop staring.”
And you know? that phrase… Whatever next? seems a good way of summing up this blog.
So, summing up….
Je ne sais quoi is a wild roller coaster of a blog. It really does need to be visited at least once in every lifetime. In the same way that you might want to try parachuting or bungy jumping once before you die.
I’m not so sure that it’ll improve your character or make you any wiser but…..
You will have a great time!
And there’s nothing wrong with that!
And me? Well, I’m going on a Night Run to Belgium. I’m going to… “Go see the famous peeing boy statue. (A must… only in Belgium can a statue be famous because it’s peeing.) Have my picture taken next to it, preferably pretending to drink the pee. Everyone does it!”
Wish me luck!
All the best
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