Ooh La La

I've never really been a fan of the French.  French bread, french fries, french champagne maybe...but not France itself.  My oldest sister has been trying to force their culture on me since childhood.  First making me learn the alphabet and how to count in French, then by sharing stories of her love life with a man I'll call Pepe Le Pew.

My main issue with France and the French people is their overly strong dislike for all that is American.  Just what, exactly, did we do?  So what if we wear deodorant (you sure need it in the South) or our breasts are too big to fit into a wine glass?  So what if we love McDonald's and obesity instead of nibbling on our cheese and wine?  I like bread, damnit!  Ok, ok, you get my point.  (By the way, did I mention I hate scarves?).

So anyway, my sister has this man who we'll say is a "love interest" of hers.  He is very intelligent, works as a researcher at a world-renowned University here in the state of Georgia, is supposedly very good-looking, and has a fetish for butts.  Specifically, the opening to the butt.  Yes, I really did just say that.  He likes anuses.

Now let me add this quick disclaimer before I continue: a) I have permission from my sister to write about this man, as well as this subject, and b) I never use real names in any of my blogs because that just wouldn't be right...even if given permission, all subjects in any blog are given a false name or moniker (that's just how I do).

Back to Pepe Le Pew.  I think it is probably best that I have never seen or met him.  I am allowed to therefore imagine him any way that I would like to in my mind, as are you.  I first became aware of his existence (and anus fetish) on a trip to Florida with my sister.  He texted her constantly with very inappropriate messages of what he wanted to do to her anus.  In improper English.  I laughed so hard I cried.  I'm sorry, but when you are of what you deem a Superior Society to my own, and you work at a University as a researcher, I expect you to know English.  "I want to anal you so hard right now" does not give me a pretty image.  Nor, would it turn me on.

I expect that he still sends her these obscene messages.  Last I heard, he was upset about me texting her late one evening asking how her anus was and telling her that it was her favorite sister writing to her (she had lost her phone for the umpteenth time, and of course, my number along with it).  My nickname could be mistaken for a man, especially if you are not familiar with my real name (which, ironically, is of French origin).  He became very angry with her and accused her of seeing another man.  Ouch, I'm offended.  I do know that she bought him some Old Spice deodorant for his birthday.  So, at least our dear Pepe Le Pew will smell good and maybe have a little swagger left after my sister takes her next anal beating.

Keep Those Booties Covered,
Freeway Fairington

PS-Mom, I hope you chose NOT to read this posting!!!