This morning I took my car to the Peugeot shop. My muffler was shot, and I went to have it replaced. My 306 is getting up there in years, so I'm no stranger to Peugeot Rapide. There's this one mechanic who kind of gets my blood pumping with his lanky build, ponytail over shaved hair, and one nicely crooked front tooth. I walked into the place, and this odor of sweat and man hit me full on. There was My Mechanic, in his blue jumpsuit, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, zipper undone enough so that I could see he wasn't wearing a t-shirt underneath. He wasn't alone, so it may not have been his armpits diffusing that sweet smell. Whatever! Why am I even telling you this? (Concentrate, Alison, concentrate).
MM did not take care of my car; another equally sexy young man did, and while I was waiting, I looked at the limited selection of reading material available to me: Peugeot Magazine. The French equivalent to TV Guide, dated November 2003. A word game magazine. I picked this one up, and flipped through its pages. Scattered here and there were little articles: 10 Potato Recipes. Which is better: raw or cooked vegetables? I kept flipping and ended up at the end. On the back cover was an ad for a dating service.
Usually I just bypass that type of ad, seeing as how I'm not in the singles game and all, but since I hadn't had the perspicacity to bring a book, I checked it out. There was a color photo of a lovely young couple looking happy on a beach somewhere. The text of the ad was blandly nice, full of hope and feel-good commentary. Then I got to the name of the dating service.
The French are pretty weird. Some of them really get up in arms about the use of English words in everyday language. When I got here in the early 90s, the Minister of Culture, Jacques Toubon, put into place a law that would forbid English words wherever there was a French equivalent. Marketing was supposed to become mercatique. Walkman became baladeur. Jacques Toubon was mocked as Jack Allgood. But then there are these aberrations, these English words totally twisted and rent of their original grammatical structure. For example, where you might go running or jogging, the French are going to faire un footing. You go to the salon to get a new do, and after the coiffeur cuts your hair, he or she does un brushing. You just have to stop cringing and get used to it.
OK, so there I was in the waiting area of Peugeot reading this ad, and I noticed the name of the dating service: CUM. I kid you not. (Excuse me while I vomit). "CUM has brought together numerous couples during its 17 years in business. But no one will ever know how many because all exchanges via our service are private."
Hellloooo? CUM? WTF? The photo in the ad conveys love and happiness, and the name of the service reeks of porn. I can't help wondering what the French Minister of Companies Requesting The Use Of Cheesy Foreign Words As Names was thinking when he approved this one.
The worst thing is that the folks using this dating service are most likely blissfully oblivious to cum's connotations. And that's what's got me laughing my ass off. As well as cringing.
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