As we all know, it can be difficult to understand the way people speak when you visit a different country; it's like they're speaking a whole other language! And I'm sure they feel the same way about us, especially when they're watching one of our films which really doesn't relate to the title. That being said, the fine folks at Vanity Fair magazine translated famous movie titles into different foreign languages, and then translated them back into English, so that we may have a better understanding of why foreigners are so confused about what they're watching. Some of the better translations below.

-In Spanish, Debbie Does Dallas = Debbie Causes You Mow; The Afternoon of the I Gave of the Dog = Dog Day Afternoon; Still Cattleman Obtain the Melancholy = Even Cowgirls get the Blues; and The Baby: Puerco in the City = Babe: Pig in the City.
-In German, Professor Stays Away Has That Consideration = The Absent-Minded Professor; Approximately Yesterday Evening = About Last Night; Driving Miss Ganseblumchen = Driving Miss Daisy; and My Large Thick Greek Wedding = My Big Fat Greek Wedding...only slightly more perverse sounding.
-In French, Annie Receives Your Riffle = Annie Get Your Gun; Saddles That Blaze = Blazing Saddles; To Shine It = The Shining; This is the Verterbral Faucet = This is Spinal Tap; and The Package Film of Brady = The Brady Bunch Movie.
-In Italian, To The Wind it Satisfied = Gone With the Wind; The Sunset of Brightness of Road = Sunset Boulevard; The Filthy Dance of it = Dirty Dancing; and The American Cake of it = American Pie.
-And last, in Portuguese, A Trolly Nominate I Desire = A Streetcar Named Desire; Next Month the Planet of the Monkey = Beneath the Planet of the Apes; Harry I Soil = Dirty Harry; Dance I Soil = Dirty Dancing; Tomatoes You Will See Fried = Fried Green Tomatoes; and The Sick English = The English Patient.

I hope this has given you some insight, any insight, into what those poor foreigners must think of our films. I know I wouldn't go see something called The Sick English.

I was flipping through the TV yesterday when I landed on that Oxygen women's cable network. There was a promo on for the show A Different World, and the announcer asked, "Wouldn't it be great if your life was a Cosby spin-off?" And I thought, well sure, but a Growing Pains spin-off would be more appropriate for me. Y'know...cause I'm white.

First off, if you haven't already read my blog from 1/28/02 (which, lets face it, who would blame you if you haven't), you probably should go back and read that first. That being said, this morning I was sitting around with Bernadette and I was reading the paper, and it went down like this:

Me: Hmm, so get this, the-
Bernadette: Okay, when you do that, it has to be the most annoying thing you could possibly do.
Me: Reading stuff from the paper?
Bernadette: Yes, you just read me the stuff. I'm not reading the paper. Why do I care?
Me: Sorry.
Bernadette: (pause)Now what are you saying?
Me: Well I'm not going to tell you now.

Life imitating art, or me just being annoying? You be the judge!

So Bernadette is taking a course on child development this summer. The chapter she's reading now is about actually having a child, and in one part it states, "While in the womb, it is important that our mothers not smoke or drink too much, that they eat well, and that they avoid nuclear accidents." For serious?!

Bernadette and I were clothes shopping today when I walked past a couple in their 30s. The man held up this really ugly shirt and asked his wife, "What do you think honey?" Her face scrunched up and she said, "Eh, it looks a little too much like a Bernie Mac shirt for you."

The other day the phone guy came out to the house to fix something and I was talking to him outside as he explained the phone problem to me. Then Bernadette came outside and asked him something, and the phone guy said, "Well...like I just explained to your husband here..." Yeah, that's right. I'm the husband.

Today I was standing on the train, minding my own business, when I look over and see a homeless man with something slowly inching it's way out his nose. The man was kinda crusty looking, with one eye closed and the other eye sporting a patch. The nose issue wouldn't have been too bad in itself except for the fact that there was someone sitting right below the homeless man, relaxing with his eyes closed; he had no idea that at any moment the snot could hit him. The homeless man tried breathing in through his nose, sucking it up, but every time it went up a bit it just came back down a bit more. I started sharing glances and laughing with several other people on the train, all of us worried what might happen with this homeless man and his snot. And in that moment, all of us watching and laughing bonded together, and the train became a little bit closer...as if it wasn't already cramped enough! Anyway, the homeless guy blew his nose right before the snot dripped on the sleeping man and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The end.

Today in the library a older woman who had just come in walked up to me and asked, "Do you know who did that sculpture over there?" "No, sorry." Then she asked, "Well what about those words written up there? What language are those?" "Um, I don't know." She looked at me with pitty and said, "You must be a volunteer or something."
I was too ashamed to tell her I wasn't. She then turned back to her friends and said, quite audably, "He doesn't know anything." Yeah, my self esteem for the day is down the drain.