Carol Callicotte

Author

Seriously? You’re Still Here? June 8, 2011

Filed under: Completely Off Topic,Crap,Funny stuff,Self deprecating humor — A French American Life @ 6:37 pm
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Dear Five Pounds:

We’ve been through a lot. I mean, wow, we had a baby together! Had some good times, eating ice cream, chocolate, ditching workouts, squeezing into clothes we have no business wearing.

But our relationship has run its course. Really, I never intended for it to go on this long. Summer is coming, and I’m ready to move on. I know this isn’t what you want, you’ve made that clear. But you can’t say you haven’t had any warnings. You’ve seen me sweating through extra workouts, avoiding desserts. I’ve even stopped eating chocolate, that’s how bad this has become!

Despite all this, you still haven’t gotten the hint. You’ve become clingy and it’s really time to just go. Please don’t make me ask again. We are OVER. Leave now.

Sincerely but NOT affectionately,

Carol’s Body

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Biohazard, Coming Through! February 23, 2009

Filed under: Crap,Funny stuff,Reading,Self deprecating humor — A French American Life @ 11:42 am
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I’ve been on a book buying binge – I can’t seem to walk into a bookstore or browse Amazon without ordering a book or two (or three…). Hence, my pile of now 50+ books that I am determined to read this year. I tend to buy them new – I like to make sure the author gets their deserved percentage. But I have another reason as well – I’m a bit of a germaphobe. Recently, I decided to order a used paperback, just to save some money (it was one I’d already bought, read, and donated to the library, and when I couldn’t find it at the library, I hated to pay full price again). The book arrived this weekend looking… weathered. And my first thought was – did someone read this while they were sitting on the toilet?

Am I the only one with this phobia? Anyone remember the Seinfeld episode where George is in the bookstore and decides to take a book into the bathroom with him? Where has this paperback been, I wonder? Having a bachelor’s degree in microbiology, I know that any microbial life forms that got on there would be dead by now, but still. I just look at that poor little paperback and think…eww.

 

My Husband, Metaphor Man January 22, 2009

My husband has a way with words. Faster than a firestorm of fragments, more powerful than the precisest of prose, able to leap through language with ease and grace, he is Stéphane, Metaphor Man. He spins tapestries, pushes the boundaries of common usage, and does it all with a heavenly French accent. His mission: to rescue our beloved English from the drudgery of every day use. His motivation: to make software engineering sound less boring. Seriously, it’s a bit embarrassing, considering I’m supposed to be the writer of the family, and English is his second language. Before I plunge to the depths of hyperbole, let me explain. He’s a software engineer, and since I really don’t have any clue what it is he does every day, he must translate for me. For example, earlier this week, he told me about some program or something (really – I have no clue, I just remember the comparison he made) and he likened it to Versailles circa 1700s. He said its outward appearance was astounding: gilded walls, rooms full of brass-framed mirrors, the finest of tapestries and paintings. But no one gave any thought to the basics – like toilets – so everyone crapped in the halls and the whole thing ended up mired in stink. Genius. The metaphor, I mean. Not Versailles.

The thing is, I love a well placed metaphor. I love the way some writers can make the same words we all use regularly into something clever or beautiful. And I’m jealous of my husband. I struggle to come up with the kind of stuff he spouts out every day. I’ll sit there and chew off the end of my pen, giving myself ink poisoning, while trying to come up with metaphors, similes, analogies, and layers of depth and meaning for the things I write. It really isn’t fair how much better he is at it. Now, excuse me while I plot how to strip him of his powers and transfer them to myself….

 

Can’t you read!? August 6, 2008

Filed under: Completely Off Topic,Crap — A French American Life @ 6:49 pm
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doggy

Supposedly, a picture speaks a thousand words, but this one, smack dab in the middle of our front lawn, apparently isn’t saying anything.  I just walked out to the smell of sun-ripened canine excrement, boldly laid at the base of this sign.  I’m about two stiff drinks away from turning into the neighborhood psycho, lurking behind my curtains and waiting for this miscreant pet owner to stroll by and pull the ol’ “I didn’t see anything” while his dog does his thing on my lawn.  Who does this?  Doesn’t anyone read Miss Manners anymore?

Actually, the French do it all the time.  You don’t actually walk down a street in France, you dodge all the merde.  But this is America, dammit, and we’re supposed to clean up after our own dogs.  Or you are, evil neighbor.  Beware, sloppy stranger, you have incurred my wrath one time too many.  And I put extra tequila in my margaritas tonight.