How NOT to pick up Foreign Chicks - Part II

So when the Doctor told me I didn’t have worms any more, that was the best summer ever!

Whoops, wrong story. Back to my torrid love affair with the very fair Catherine of Marseille.

I was trying to gain the attention of the bartender for another Fosters (which was the only beer on tap at the Australian themed club) when these two cute girls tried to get the drop on me for their drinks. This was unacceptable. Cuteness aside, no one gets between me and my thirst in a crowded bar when beer comes sparingly. I promptly boxed them out, Dennis Rodman style. Then the girls started gibbering at me in a foreign language. I’m pretty sure it was French.

I didn’t apologize. In fact, I rubbed it in their faces and bet them a Euro that I could get a drink before they could. One of the girls spoke English and she agreed to the wager. I somehow got my drink first so I made the talky one pay up. That’s when I found out her name was Catherine, she was 25, and she was visiting Paris from Marseille, the second biggest city in France. She learned to speak English studying abroad in Australia.

Catherine is very tall, and very slender, and very French looking. She was a classic beauty and once I started talking to her, I immediately regretted acting like the stereotypical jackass American that I am. I tried to gain back some ground by swearing my allegiance to Canada but my cover was blown when I correctly pronounced the word about instead of aboot.

So I did the next obvious maneuver, I played the I Hate Bush card. This trick is just like the fragrance Sex Panther. 60% of the time, it works, aaaaaaaaall the time. In this case, it worked extremely well, because I ended up chatting it up with her friends, grinding with her, and eventually doing a little necking on the dance floor. It was sweet.

My friends, also known as my “union buddies” as my Australian friends that I met that night referred to them as, were impressed. Unfortunately, my plane was leaving the next day so I knew my time with Catherine would be short. At the end of the night, we said our good-byes and I gave her my e-mail address out of courtesy. I never really expected to hear from her again.

But when I got back home to the states, my inbox had a very peculiar message in it…Oh the suspense!