Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

After more than a year in Paris (though our official expatriation anniversary is coming up on Tuesday), I have a certificate that says that I know fuck-all about the French language. (EU language competency levels are located here, for those not in the know)

I’d have a celebratory beer (or even better, champagne), but I think we’re at the point at which my liver may decamp and move to the coast if I throw even one more thing its way.

I suppose I’ll have to settle for a rousing rendition of the pickle song.

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