Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Des oeufs

I bootlegged a DVD-quality copy of Oldboy off LimeWire. It's a Korean revenge thriller chock full of sadomasochism and hammer action. I heard excellent things about it.


Interviewed some o' them rich folks today and hung out with Swiss Alps's younger sister, Trinity. She's a 16-year-old sweetheart visiting her brother all the way from Switzerland. Girl has a good head on her shoulders. I haven't talked about high school happenings in ages and to be able to brings back memories ... I wish I had. (Westmount was comparable to a slaughterhouse. Thus, the only good memory is a dead one.) She told me stories about spoiled Saudi progeny (princes and princesses educated at converted ski resorts and riding stables), teenage cokeheads and pubescent race car aficionados, given monthly allowances of upwards of 10,000 Swiss francs. Well-read, well-traveled, and well-endowed: Trinity's a tough combination for any man to crack.

We did girly things together while her brother attended class. It wasn't babysitting because she was so easy to talk to. Trinity told me about her still painfully fresh break-up and recent flirtation with a new fella nicknamed Alphonse. ("He only speaks Spanish and French.")

"He's what we call a racaille," she elaborated.

A what?

"They look like thugs, except they wear Lacoste and these small, flimsy baseball caps that look like this," she said as she cupped her hands on the cafe table.

A sport yarmulke?

"Kinda," she laughed. "[Racailles] are like thugs but not really ... They're just seen all over Geneva ..."

"Oh!" I finally understood. "You mean, a swigger," I said, matter-of-factly.

"Yes!" she gushed. "I'm so using that word when I get back!"

Yes, ladies and gents. Never Been Kissed got it right with "rufus": everyone wants to be a patois pioneer. The latest incarnation across the pond is "ouf," which is backwards for "fou" or "crazy" en francais. It is used to refer to guys deemed ultra cool. Another thing kids are saying is "bonass," which is a combination of the French word for "good" and the English for, well, "ass." Guys say it whenever a fine female walks by. (Trinity lives in the French quarter which explains all these Gallic bastardizations which sound extra funny coming from her Brooklynized mouth.)

She's also stealing me and super hot, half-Asian, Ollie's secret handshake which goes: Shake, pull, snap. Knuckle knock once. "Chopsticks" are "okay" (visualize formation of traditional "scissor" position using middle and index finger then transition to international symbol for "a-okay" - not to be confused with "alright" which is a thumbs up - to place over the heart, seamlessly and simultaneously).

Trinity kept encouraging me to ask him out (she thought he was smokin'; I told her foreign ho-ness to button up her shirt). "Pretend to slip into him," she suggested. I told her I was smoother than that (yuh huh). So with her encouragement, I walked over, asked how he was; we joked, we chatted, I asked for his number; couldn't find my phone so he leaned over and asked me for mine.

So here I am sitting in front of my computer with a stupid grin plastered across my face like I just gulped down a can of buffalo balls and friggin' loved it!

M. Biologique who?


Speaking of M. Biologique, Swiss Alps told me he saw him with his squeeze a couple of days ago. What is she like? I anxiously delved for details.

"Bland," he said with a shrug. "She's really frumpy looking for someone ... I mean, [M. Biologique] is a really charismatic, handsome guy and she's ... meh."

He continued: "I thought she was his friend because they didn't look all that into each other."

Woohoo! I feel a lot better knowing M. Biologique goes home to eat out an antiquated eyesore instead of playing hookey with me. Baise-toi, mon cher ami!

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