Thursday, April 22, 2010

This Blog Is Brought To You By Grappa Nardini

So I've been pretty busy lately. Every weekday morning I get up at 5:30 am to take The Max to Lausanne Gare so he can catch the train to Berne to attend his German class, something I've been doing since February, but this week, instead of crawling back into bed and catching a few more hours of the precious precious sleep, I've come back home, made myself presentable for public inspection then driven back into Lausanne to attend French class.Yes, after 2 years (less 6 months exile) in Swiss Romand, it is apparent that I am not magically going to be able to speak French through some invisible osmotic process, despite the fact that I can read it quite well and if I pay attention can follow a TV program. But I really can't speak it...a combination of my confusion around the extremely complicated French grammar, my execrable accent and the fear that my usually erudite self will appear completely moronic has prevented me from uttering little more than the standard politesse phrases and forced the Big G to handle any conversation 'en francais' more complicated than ' Bon jour monsieur'. And I'm really enjoying the classes, being in a group of other people who are in the same boat has taken the edge off my self consciousness and after only a week, I'm already being able to 'think' of ways to say the things I want.But today I couldn't go to class due to a swollen lip, facial abrasions and sore knees resulting from an encounter with Grappa Nardini.

Last night we all (The Big G, his son Matthew and gf Monica, The Max and myself) went for dinner and had fondue chinoise,

a tasty Swissy kind of meal that involves thinly sliced pieces of meat that are cooked in a broth at the table then eaten with a variety of flavored mayonnaise sauces, as well as yummy pommes frites and a large salade melee.We ate until we were uncomfortably stuffed (a common side effect of fondue chinoise) and consumed an extra bottle of wine in the process. I think that's where it all started to go wrong for me. We came home and had our nightly ritual of Nespresso deca and a schluck of grappa and I went out on the terrasse to have a smoke and wrangle the kittehs back into the house. Stryder,
(this guy ⬇)

was arsing about and I leaned off my chair to grab him and fell flat on my face on the patio that is paved with STONE. Actually I didn't fall quite flat, as my rather Gallic-shaped nose hit the ground first and deflected my head so that instead of breaking my nose I scraped the hell out of my lips and the nostrils on one side. Yes, there was blood...and I think the only reason I wasn't howling in agony was because of the influence of my good friend Grappa Nardini. I stumbled into the house and after rinsing off the blood, hastily applying ice and repeatedly asking the Big G, "Is it straight? Is my nose straight??" my abraded knees and I went to bed.When I limped my way into the bathroom this morning and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror I knew no amount of coverup was going to stop people from assuming I'd been involved in some domestic dispute. Rather than attempt the challenge of explaining (in FRENCH!) what had happened, I've opted to skip class today. And no, I do not have a drinking problem.


Danica-Dragonfly said...

Oh Brite ... if I had a nickel for every failed drunken pussy grab ... I'd sure have some nickels ... snort.

I'm sorry that you are hurt, really I am ... but that's funny. I can't help my barbaric instincts to laugh at someone else's pain.

Do take care, though. Perhaps next time you go out to wrangle kittehs, you should wear some hockey face gear.

*taps mic* ... is this thing on???

brite said...

Failed drunken pussy grab? LOL...that might generate some strange traffic to this site.

Xtreme said...

I understand why you'd stay home. My wife likes to hurt herself, complete with large evil bruises, that I can only assume people think I beat her.

(I don't beat her, for the record, she just bruises easily)

Amethyst Anne said...

Can't. Stop. Laughing... ( I am soo sorry that you are hurt though) Oh dear, I feel and understand your pain.. ( Thanks a lot X!! BAH! and yes I tend to be a bit clumsy when, I am..err..drinking and awake)
"failed drunken pussy grabs." *Snort* Hey those little buggers are wily and FAST!! I am sure that all the fault can rest solely on Stryder's shoulders.Sounds like that Kitteh owes you some alcohol!

kathryn said...

Oh, honey! You couldn't hear me groaning in pain as I'm reading this! Ouch....times infinity.

So, have we determined whether we love Grappa (for numbing you from feeling certain agony from that fall) or hate Grappa for making you fall in the first place?

I think a jury would split it 50/50.

Hope you're better soon! (Ouch.)

brite said...

As the Big G says "That Stryder's a bastard!" and Kathryn hun...I could never hate Grappa, no matter how many times it makes me fall on my face!