Faux Frenchies (and other losers)

So, I was having dinner the other night when I was accosted by this hideous wannabe Frenchie loser, who thought her ridiculous accent made her sound more intelligent and of a higher class. Whatever! Not even her stupid accent could mask her blatant stupidity, and as for her class, let's just say my New Year's Eve dates have more of it in their furry paws. I won't go into detail about what we were arguing about, but let's just say that she's an idiot and even Paris Hilton has more brain cells than her. Anyway, as always, I digress.... Getting back to topic, what is with these idiots who think that speaking with a put on accent is actually cool? I have to admit, the Faux Frenchies get on my nerves more than anyone else, although there are also wannabe Americans and Brits that are nearly as irritating, but we'll get to them later.

Okay, a typical Faux Frenchie will come up to you in their Frenchie coucou manner, all pretentious and nauseating with their dumbass accents that they probably worked harder on than graduating high school (if they even managed that), and a conversation will generally go something like this:

Faux Frenchie: Bonsoir!
Normal Lebanese Person: Hi.
FF: Frenchie frenchie coucou nonsense in French.
NLP: Sorry, I don't speak French. Only Arabic and English please.
FF: Oh mon Dieu (face in disgust) no French?? Quelle catastrophe! Yuck, Arabic is only for peasants, but if I must lower myself ... [Begins to speak Arabic with French accent].
NLP: Uhm, you know you're not French right?
FF: Yes, and I've never even been to France, but I must roll my 'r's anyway, because it is very clah.
NLP: Moron.
FF: Mais ouis!

People who've flown over the UK or had a layover in the US and come back to Lebanon and act as if they don't know how to speak Arabic anymore aren't much better. But in order of most annoying, let's go through a typical conversation with a Faux Brit.

Faux Brit: G'day mate.
Normal Lebanese Person: Uhm, you know that's Australian.
FB: Oh yeah, easy mistake, though, ainnet [i.e., isn't it]?
NLP: Only if you're mentally challenged.
FB: Hey, I really am British, you know …. Look, I can say, bloody hell!
NLP: You’re bloody annoying.
FB: Wicked!

And now we come to American wannabes, who have accents so bad, hearing them is like listening to fingernails on blackboards – i.e. excruciating.

Faux American: Hey, like oh my God, I am like soooooo American, and just to prove it to you, I’m so going to talk like this the whole time even though I was only in the US for like five minutes. Awesome. Dude.

Normal Lebanese Person: Did you just say, ‘Dude?’

FA: Totally, dude. I totally said ‘dude,’ dude. Like you know, right? Whatever rocks your boat, man.

NLP: I actually don’t know. Is there a conversation going on here?

FA: Oh my God, are you serious? Are you like totally clueless or something?

NLP: [No comment, stares incomprehensibly at babbling idiot with limited vocabulary who inexplicably keeps saying ‘dude.’]

FA: Duuuuude!

New Year's WHATEVER!

So, New Year's Eve is coming up and now the question on everyone's lips is: 'Yiiiii, shoo a'mlee al ra'as al sinee?' New Year's parties have become such ridiculous displays of excess in Lebanon that it's a wonder why anyone would want to go through it all. Seriously, what is the point? I heard the other day that some hall or the other is selling tickets for $800 so people can sit in a VIP section up on a balcony overlooking the commoners on the ground floor who paid a mere $500 per ticket. I asked why anyone would pay so much more for a balcony and the response was, 'Because people think that having VIP stamped on a ticket is clah.' Well, if by 'clah' you mean R.E.T.A.R.D.E.D, then that would be absolutely correct! (FYI: In Lebanon, VIP may as well stand for Very Idiotic Pansy.) I would much rather use that money for a new pair of shoes than waste a gazillion dollars on a ticket to some crap party where the nasty ass meal might as well have food poisoning stamped on it and the alcohol is most probably supplied straight from the gas pump.

The last time I went to one of these NY's parties was a few years back. I paid about $180 (which by today's standards is a peasant fee equal to about 23 cents), so I could party with friends at an upscale locale downtown. So, I get there and I'm sitting on this table and everyone is like, 'party, yeah' and I'm thinking, what is the big deal? You can party any day of the week, what is soooo special about tonite? Nothing, except that instead of paying $10 for a drink, you're paying over $100. Okay, so then I was sitting there, designated driver because, call me crazy, but I wasn't in the mood to spend the next day in the company of the toilet bowl, and I'm trying to have fun. But, as is always the case with these over-inflated shingdigs, the food was gross and the music made my ears bleed. At midnight, I went around kissing everyone, and then spent the rest of the evening looking at my watch trying to decide what time I could gracefully make my exit without being labeled a loser. I decided 2am was good enough, but too studied and exact, so I waited another 20 mins and at 2.20am I was out the door.

After that exciting - not - evening, most other NY eves I've spent outside Beirut. But this year, here I am back again, and while everyone else is scrambling for tickets to this dumbass party or that one, I've made my own 'exclusive' plans. Ticket cost: about $5 (for DVD rentals); Menu: anything not involving an IV drip is a step up for me; Guests: two hot studs who have never let me down:

Toby (l) and Harry

So what if one has a weak bladder and the other is blind (and both have really bad breath), I'll still have better dates than most people, I'm sure! And come New Year's day, I'll probably be the only person around who's had a good night's sleep, non-puffy eyes, and ... a great ass pair of new shoes! Of course, all of you will be passed out and too hung over to notice. But that's okay - all I can say is: Happy New Year ... suckerrrs!