Maybe instead we should steal their name.
“We’re from France.”
“Unh-uh. We’re from France.”
“What?!?”
“See the sign? It says, ‘Welcome to the United States of France.’ So there. We’re French and you’re not. Neener, neener, neener.”
“This is absurd.”
“I don’t understand. What’s this word… ‘absurd’? You’re not allowed to speak anything but French here.”
“Sacre bleu.” [walks away]
“That’s right, you and your non-French talk can just go back home for all I care!”
You know my last name really is French.
I expect to be getting a memo soon.
Somehow Cindi Freedom just doesn’t sound that bad to me.
“Cindi Freedom”
sounds like that name should come with super powers.
Schickless?
Oil For Blood?
Learsi?
Actually, I just mean you can find a deep fried potato stick of some name in virtually every country in the world. Actually, my mother used to call them chips and I’d never know what the heck she was talking about. Eventually whenever she’d ask me to pick up chips at the grocery store, I’d buy a bag of Ruffles (or Lays) just to mess with her. I found it funny.