PittGirl: Parlez-vous Pittsburghese?
My very un-French-like take on France.
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We’ll be touching down in Pittsburgh in approximately 20 minutes, where skies are cloudy, temperatures are holding at 33 degrees and snow is falling.”
If my mind-reading powers are up to snuff, it was at that moment that every Pittsburgher on the airplane performed mental math—adding up their savings, job prospects, an assortment of life factors and the average spring temperatures in various points south of the Mason-Dixon Line to see if their relocation plans could become a reality before next winter (assuming this one ever left).
After doing the math and ending up with a figure in the negative trillions, I grabbed the US Airways Magazine out of the seat pocket in front of me and began flipping through it, looking for something to take my mind off the fact that, in 10 minutes, we would be landing in Pittsburgh where it was snowing … in April.
The humanity.
I found a travel article titled, “10 Ways to Look and Act Like a Local in France.”
France. Le sigh, as they say.
I’ve never visited France, but I sure would love to be French—who wouldn’t?
My impression is that all French women are model-thin with long hair that smells of hazelnut and angel wings. Their lips are perfectly pouty. They exit the womb with a tiny French manicure. And they apparently receive lifetime couture wardrobes from the priciest fashion houses—simply because they were born in France.
It’s kind of like how we’re given a Social Security card. Here’s a little blue card with a 10-digit number we made up just for you, Mary. Custom-made, insanely expensive wardrobe for you, Sabine.
And don’t get me started on the French men. Look at Adonis over there weeping at his gross inferiority.
This article appears in the June 2011 issue of Pittsburgh Magazine
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