Playing Fishy on Poisson d'Avril

April Fool's in France is known as Poisson d'avril, April fish. The typical gag is to tape a paper fish unto someone's unsuspecting back. In the two years that I spent living in France, I had been fortunate enough to have been spared from that prank. In fact, I expected my April 1st this year to be relatively dull and ordinary. So dull that all I was planning to have for excitement was a trip to Costco on a Sunday.

This is worth repeating: a trip to COSTCO on a SUNDAY.

For those who are not in the know, Costco demonstrates the beauty of America: a penchant for loving all things big and bargain-priced. This wholesaler, with its over-sized shopping carts and free food samples, gives you a sense of exclusivity because you have to pay a yearly membership to be able to shop there.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't love Costco. Where else am I going to get a decent goat cheese and satisfy my Stacy's "Simply Naked" Pita chips fix in bulk?

However, a Costco crammed with hundreds of shoppers vying for deals and stuffing their gargantuan shopping carts with a year's supply of toilet paper? On a Sunday afternoon? I call that "Hell."

It also doesn't help that said Hell is located at least 25 minutes away from my house.


I should mention that should I decide to play some background music, 99% of the tunes heard on the radio in Miami are polarized by Pitbull's voice.

If music doesn't work, then surely the gorgeous Miami scenery will be a sight for sore eyes.

Erm...maybe this looks better.

At least you get palm trees. 

That is, we would have gone in there had I not asked Mom, rather nonchalantly:

My mother has a very peculiar expression in Spanish: "jugar pescadito." Literally translated, it means "to play fishy." She states this phrase whenever something or someone pulled the wool over her eyes or evaded her, much like a fish would to someone who tries to lure it unsuccessfully with a fishing pole.

When she mentioned that, I couldn't help but feel that the card had taped a metaphorical paper fish on our backs that served as our Poisson d'avril, only I didn't quite appreciate this joke.

Our trip to Hell was postponed for a trip back to the house, one accompanied by yet more of Miami's exciting scenery and Pitbull's pop/rap music.

(This may or may not exactly be near Hell...)

Once Mom got her card, we spent yet another 25 minutes being serenaded by Mr. Three-Oh-Five en route to Hell...

(For those of you curious enough to make your ears bleed, here ya go.)



...where we navigated our cumbersome cart around endless columns of cardboard boxes and stacks of food for close to an hour. By the time I reached the exit, I was at my wit's end.

Yep. 'Merica at her finest.

Things got better once we went home (albeit listening to more of Mr. Worldwide on the airwaves).

Oh, and for those who read this on my Twitter today:

It should go without saying that I have recanted that. Happy Poisson d'avril!

Barb the French Bean

Driving Makes Me Go Over to the Dark Side

I think I have figured out the exact reason as to why I hate city driving: it brings out the worst in me.

And the worst in me scares me to death.

Driving facilitates the animal side of my being, the one pushed by pumping adrenaline and profanity, to step forth. I devolve into a wretched, vile person who spouts wretched, vile language at complete strangers while wishing them the most venomous thoughts. My sentences are peppered liberally with a vulgar, four-lettered labio-dental fricative word that can be defined as the act of engaging in "bow-chicka-wowwow." I'm not saying that I am a complete goodie-two shoes; I am an adult and am therefore prone to using curse words. Yet when I utter this particular word, I become detached to respecting fellow members of human society and therefore lose any remorse that I would have felt. This profane person is someone who I don't recognize when I am a mere pedestrian.

The transition from pedestrian to driver is a harsh one for me because I am generally respectful of others. I will open the door for you. I will say "excuse me" if I accidentally bumped into you. I will even warn you if the bathroom stall ran out of toilet paper. Yet when I become the driver, I can no longer cling to the ideals of "please" and "thank you" because, apparently, no one else on the road does. No, the mere thought of being considerate to me is as foreign as knowing how to survive a four-way stop.

These inconsiderate drivers expect me to zoom at one hundred miles per hour when the signs clearly state that my car should not surpass forty. As a reward for me having the gall to respect the law, they honk at my vehicle like an enraged goose, cut me off and salute me with their middle fingers. The knowledge that I was not in the wrong when they were drives me insane.

However, nothing, NOTHING, will get me more riled up than seeing someone switch lanes without using the turn signal. I honestly don't know how I have avoided so many potential life-ending car crashes when some idiot zigzagged from one lane to the next without giving any forewarning. I know people say to live life dangerously, but they probably didn't mean it to be taken so literally!

I must also point out that some of the worst offenders of the lack of utilizing this vital device drive upscale cars. In the endless parade of BMWs, Mercedes Benzes, Audis and even Acuras, it seems none of the drivers know what the turn signal's purpose is, much less how it functions.

(Also: what is it with those new Mercedes Benz logos? I see them plastered onto the front of the vehicles like an unfortunate squirrel that became roadkill, and their sheer size is set to rival a rapping mogul's bling-bling pendant.)

Thanks to these drivers, I get in touch with my inner philosopher and ponder one of the greatest mysteries of the universe:

Seeing someone who drives an upscale car and not use the turn signal  is like seeing a woman carry a Coach or Louis Vuitton handbag and have the gall to commit a fashion faux pas by sporting cheesy flip-flops.

I must ask why this is such a big deal to me. Why must I become such a hateful person when my fellow drivers spite traffic laws?

Perhaps this hatred stems from the possibility of jealousy. Maybe I only wished that I were half as valiant as those who dared to break the speeding laws. Maybe what is wrong with me is that I desire to own a bling-bling Mercedes-Benz and can't because I live within my means.

Or, maybe, I just want you to use the damn turn signal and not kill me.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to take my Ford Focus to my bi-weekly meeting of Dark Siders Anonymous, driving. I would normally skip these meetings but it's karaoke night.

Barb the French Bean

Coffee and French Bean's Car Search Quest

Readers of Two Beans or Not Two Beans are probably unaware that almost two weeks ago, our blog came very, very close to becoming one Bean short.

Coffee Bean was involved in a car accident. Although she came out rather unscathed, the same cannot be said for her car...which is why she is now on an impossible quest to find an automatic car for under $4,000.

Following a brief weekend in humidity-and-mosquito ridden Miami, she and French Bean drove back to Orlando. The two Beans could have fun hanging out with each other while French Bean temporarily escaped from the grand highlight of McDonald's cheeseburger specials while she met and discovered new people. It was a win-win situation!

Amidst all the partying and beer-drinking, Coffee Bean also had to face the reality that her rental car wasn't going to be hers forever and that she needed a reliable mode of transportation. After doing some internet research and jotting down locations, the Two Beans went off to find THE dream car.

(The names of various car dealerships have been altered to protect their identities.)

Car Dealership #1: Lemons Fo' U

The Two Beans came across this world-class vendor by chance. While on the quest for a different dealership, they spotted Lemons Fo' U located adjacent to the other place. The wooden, hand-written sign announcing the property could not be missed, nor could the metal, barbed-wire fence protecting the vehicular commodities. The owner of Lemons Fo' U made his appearance when he exited his work station of a minuscule hut and approached his clients by walking on a graveled pavement.

The proprietor of said establishment was a well-dressed urbane gentleman sporting a white, sweat-stained wife beater and had a respectable mane of long, flowing dreadlocks. As a sign of his financial success, he had teeth which glistened a golden sheen in the 100 degree F sunlight.







Yes, indeed. Coffee Bean had certainly declared the sum to be $4,000.

The proprietor thought for a moment until he pointed to one of his many exemplary vehicular beauties. After a few seconds of glancing around the place, the Two Beans realized something: the cars which were available were indeed far too nice to be sold for fewer than $4,000. A nearly brand-new red Chevy Malibu?

A revelation came upon them. These cars were probably stolen.

Ergo, the Two Beans did what any sensible car-buying client would have done: they assured their salesman with a diplomatic "we'll come back."

(That translates to "fat chance you'll ever see us again, bub." )


Car Dealership #2: Cheap Korean Kars!

The next location on Coffee Bean's list required the use of Tomtom, the GPS navigator. Once the address was entered into the device, Coffee Bean followed the instructions in a figuratively-blindfolded sense. If Tomtom said to turn left, the car went left. If Tomtom told the car to go straight, it went straight. If Tomtom said to drive to the closest Cartier shop and rob the store at gunpoint...the Two Beans would have probably obeyed him.

Instead, Tomtom let the girls know they had achieved their goal.




Funny thing is that they hadn't. There was absolutely no sign of Cheap Korean Kars! Yes, there was a complex of townhouses on one side of the street and there was a Nissan and even Honda dealership on the other side, but no Cheap Korean Kars!




But Tomtom steadfastly insisted that they had reached their destination. Could Cheap Korean Kars! have been an invisible dealership? Who knows...

Car Dealership #3: Worldly Cars

The Two Beans decided to give Tomtom a second chance by navigating them in the direction of Downtown Orlando. With a promising title like Worldly Cars, the Beans thought that they were going to encounter a car dealership paradise which sold even the odd flying unicorn.

Instead, Tomtom guided them to the wrong part of town.

The really, really wrong part of town.






The one complete with menacing individuals congregating under a bridge.

It became quite obvious to the Two Beans that their quest to find a nice car for under $4,000 was leading to them to a life or death situation.

They called it quits for the day and headed home.

No wonder they couldn't find the damn place.

French Bean and Coffee Bean