Parlez-vous Frenglish?

As many poor creatures do when separated from their homelands, I’ve begun to forget how to speak English. Or, rather, I’ve been slowly infecting my mother tongue with weird anglicizations of French words. They make sense to me (and a few other people who know me) but any normal English or French speaker would probably be at an utter loss to decode what I am saying.

Examples:

  • “Yes, I’d love an aromatised coffee.”
  • “I think we have a French test tomorrow, but I could just be tromping myself.”
  • “Some bread in the states doesn’t have preservatives, I guess, but it tastes like shit quand même.”
  • “Hang on, I need to compost my ticket.”
  • “Who’s up for a chocolate fold?”
  • “CPG,” meaning “c’est pas grave;” an attempt to make up a French version of “NBD,” but pronounced like an English acronym, so that it effectively makes sense to no one but me

This is the point where I wonder if I ought to worry about readjusting to being a normal American human.