Yesterday morning, a friend, Gilles, texted me to ask if I’d like a coffee as he was stopping by Starbucks before coming to the salon.
So I texted him my Square Piece order:
Please and thanks! Tall, extra hot, sugar free, soy, cinnamon dolce latte, w/whip. Not that I’m specific or anything… Let me know what I owe you.
Then I informed Brian of both this good deed and my list.
Me, “I sent him the list.”
Brian, “You didn’t.”
Brian, “Ugh. I used to hate getting coffees for you.”
Me, “That’s cause you didn’t have the list.”
Brian, “It’s always like, ‘Mocha pinka chocha latte half-caff with organic milk 2% blah blah blah with whip sugar-free skinny chowka machiato la ta ta…'”
At this point, it really sounds like he’s singing “Lady Marmalade.”
And so I pointed that out.
Brian, “It does. Veelee voos cookay ameggoi… veelee vous coushee amey wah-ha-ha…. mocha chocha la ta ta… Rrrrrhhooooo la ta ta. That’s the death metal version.”
I really wish you could hear Brian make up French. It’s A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
“…ce swa ce swa… veelay vou … eeeEeeEeeeEeee…”
You’re welcome, friends, you’re welcome.
By the way, Gilles was kind enough to ‘gift’ me the coffee. (It’s always brilliant to cheer up your hairstylist.) Thanks, Gilles!
(PS – Listening to Brian read back this post is hysterical. Apparently my interpretation of his French isn’t phonetic enough for him to create an accurate encore.)