Oh Putain!

To start, "Oh Putain" translates to "Oh Damn" with the google translator but out here I was told it means "Oh Shit" instead. This is also the phrase that I hear the most throughout the day.

This morning I finally convinced Brigitte to start going on walks with me. We both came downstairs wearing all black and Owen the Dog was coming along also (a black dog) so I told Brigitte we were the 3 ninjas. Unfortunately, I am sure she hasn't seen the actual "3 Ninjas" movie with Tum Tum and the gang. Either way, the week before, we had dubbed Philippe "The Last Samurai of St Michel," so together we sound pretty badass. Now, Brigitte isn't a big woman but she also isn't in much shape.  In a little over an hour of walking, she swore up a storm and the only words we spoke were "Oh Putain." We made it to the end though and she is willing to give it another go with me so that's good. I need all the exercise I can get out here!

Then, this GD hornet has been haunting me for days now and it only shows up when I'm in the shower and helpless. I never see the damn thing until I see it crawling into my running shorts or shirt. I hate bees/hornets and anything that can sting so I am too scared to do anything about it and I don't want bee guts in my clothes so I justs keep leaving him to his business. I leave the window open all night, but alas, when it's shower time, he shows his ugly face. "Oh Putain!!!" I HATE bees.

My last big "Oh Putain" of the day was at dinner tonight. Brigitte always tells me I have to finish things, so I usually attempt to if I can and she really pushes it if she knows I ran that day. She doesn't seem to understand what I am trying to do by running. I certainly would rather be sitting on my ass or napping. So at dinner, Brigitte fried up some fries, which I thought was bad enough. As I was finishing them off, she asks me if I have ever had anything like this before. Considering I had only had salad, fries and some cured ham so far, I thought she was referring to the ham (they butchered, salted and hung the pig themselves). And I tell her that the pig isn't too common, but you can get it and that I haven't had dressing like that before but fries are EVERYWHERE in the US. Her next question is..."OH, they fry french fries in duck fat in the US?" "Oh Putain!!" I should have known by now...not only were the fries fried, but they were fried in duck fat. They were so good, I could have guessed. BALLS! I am starting to wonder if Brigitte just wants me to fit the stereotype of the fat American. If she comes at me with a fanny pack, consider me on the next train outta here!