MDR: the French version of LOL. It stands for mort de rire, which means “death of laughter.” Cute, non? Though I was recently told (by an actual French person!) that the French do know and use LOL and that quelques français even SAY “lol” (not “L-O-L,” literally “lol”). lol.
That time we laughed in Tours
VDM is the French version of FML.
It stands for Vie de Merde, and the site contains vos histoires de la vie quotidienne (your everyday life stories). Their slogan is “Ma vie c’est de la merde, et je vous emmerde,” which kind of means “My life is sh*t, and I don’t give a f*ck.” This isn’t a direct translation. Technically it means “My life, it’s of sh*t, and I f*ck you,” but somehow I don’t think that’s exactly what the French are trying to say. Either way, it’s a little more harsh than FML’s subtitle, which is “Get the guts to spill the beans.”
Toute de suite, everyone’s all, “Hamas is going to destroy Israel!” and I’m all, “Take a
chill pill xanax. Sure, olive oil has a deceivingly high fat content, but isn’t pita bread the real enemy–” OH.
19 oz of crushed chickpeas and 2 tbs of tahini do not a militant fundamentalist organization make, and Khaled Meshaal is not served with tapenade.
Should small children be allowed in formal settings or not…it’s one of those controversial social topics, much like gay marriage or the sanctity of life. Normally I consider myself pretty liberal in these areas (healthcare for all! let them get married!), but this is where I draw the line: do not bring a screaming infant into a fancy restaurant!
Everyone who’s anyone is involved in the General Petraeus scandal. I mean really, at this point I just feel left out…
nuthouse nutshell, General David Petraeus made the mistake of having an extramarital affair with this super intense West Point chick, Paula Broadwell, who was writing her doctoral dissertation on their pillow talk. They even set up an email account where they saved their sexts as drafts, a technique used by terrorist organizations. Nothing says romance like an illegal gmail account.
Speaking of faux pas, last week I may or may not have straddled my professor…
Faux pas: social blunder. You know, like wearing colors in Paris or Abercrombie past the 8th grade.
Drinking a Natty with a cop might be a faux pas. Whatever the hell I’m wearing in this photo would also fall into that category…