“Luxem- Dammit Sean stop making up countries.” I did indeed go to a place called Luxembourg, where the Luxembourgers live. The people there speak Luxembourgish and I am totally not making that up.
“Welcome to Brussels, sir, may I interest you in-” “TAKE ME TO YOUR PISSING BABIES.” “-uh, sure sir, but Belgium has more-” “YOU CAN’T KEEP YOUR WHIZZING INFANTS HIDDEN FROM ME FOREVER BELGIUM”
The fat boy’s mouth gaped, waiting eternally for some sweet, sweet papier hier. What in the world is- “Papier hier!” repeated the disfigured child, who was apparently stuck inside a dog house of some kind. Can… can it see me? “Papierrrr hierrrr!” it rolled its Rs salaciously. Nearby Dutch children giggled. Oh man. I hope this isn’t one of those times where not speaking the local language gets me killed.
The murmurs of awe from the children around me switched gears into concerned gasps as they clutched at their parents. The dragon strained against its chains and began to look very pissed-off.
A Kuwaiti doesn't let missing his exit on the freeway get him down. He takes charge of the situation by slamming on the brakes, throwing the car in reverse, and driving backwards down the busy freeway until he can take a second stab at it. And I don't mean from the breakdown lane or even the right hand lane. I mean from the center lane of the freeway.
Blame It On Bahrain: Some irresponsible rumors have sprung up recently claiming that I went to Bahrain just so I could use that Milli Vanilli joke. What do you mean you never heard the rumors, you just assumed that's why I went there? Harrumph!
