Et si je disais que je m’occupais de “chiens chauds” et de Roland Garros? If I were to say that this weekend is dedicated to the pursuit of as much French Open Tennis as I can manage (on television, sadly) – and the occasional hot dog?
Isn’t that a glorious combo?
Might we mix the French and the quintessentially American? It suits me – parfaitement. But wait! Actually, one more ingredient is required in my little happy place, my imaginary world (and imaginary friends?) – a good man. Several good men. French, please?
Hey, it’s my dream land and my fantasy – a few good French men!
And so I will ponder my list of faves: Andy Roddick (right – great tennis, great pecs, not French, and he withdrew), Jean Réno (I don’t care if he plays tennis or not!), Jean-Marc Barr (mange-t-il des hotdogs?), and I could go on.
C’est de la betise, tout ça ? Foolishness? Of course!
But I don’t want to miss a tiny taste of a rare and unanticipated break (my version of a lounge act – lounging while others run to the net and slide on the clay).
And meanwhile, I wish you a fantastic weekend (yes, as You-Know-Who would say – I’ll be back… and yes, later), but like any good little rabbit, I’m late to my day, I want to play, so I will say, I’m off to manger!
The more Jean-Marc Barr becomes old… Plus il est beau!! (Ma tête ne m’appartient plus… And I’m supposed to be studying… hahaha!)
Best of weekends to you, Wolf! XXX
Je suis tout à fait d’accord avec vous, Lena! (Bon weekend!)
That picture of a hot dog is making me hungry!
It’s a hot dog kind of weekend, Cathy. (Loaded with relish and mustard and onions…)
French men? Where’s Jean-Paul Belmondo? Or perhaps BLW was not yet born at that time? I’m not much for movies, but I remember a scene from years ago — he’s paired with either Jean Seberg or Brigitte Bardot. They have arrived at a remote chalet for a romantic weekend – their honeymoon or some special occasion. Snuggling together on a sofa in front of the fireplace, she coyly produces a small silk nightie and says “For tonight.” He takes it from her, glances at it briefly, and then tosses it into the fireplace. The camera lingers as it is totally consumed by the flames. Now THAT is French – and I don’t see Jean-Paul hung up on lingerie.
Paul, You make me blush. Was I born after Belmondo! (Mais oui, of course. OK, to be honest, I was an itty bitty not yet French speaking kid at that time…)
Your comment makes me want to dig out a classic French film.
Now I know what I’m having for dinner! And Jean-Marc Barr, very cute, love that smile.
Hope you had a good holiday!
Just saw Midnight in Paris–can’t remember if you’ve mentioned it here. More of a guy’s fantasy than a gal’s, but still, it’s Paris. And in the Twenties!