The first division always enclosed memorization of the days of the week in French.
Monday is Lundi. The difference sound enough comparison that the French is easily remembered; Lundi also sounded like it could be the name of the blonde in the PBS show “French in Action” that high propagandize boys like me had a vanquish on in the 1970s.
“Bonjour Lundi! Comment sont vos cuisses aujourd’hui?”
“Hello Lundi! How are your thighs today?”
Tuesday is Mardi, which sounded like Merde, the French swear word, so everybody in category got that one down right away.
“I laughed so hard we almost Mardi’d my pants!”
It wasn’t Ivy League, my school.
I wondered at the time possibly French kids simulated to start to swear and then pronounced the day of the week instead.
“Meeeeer-ardi!”
Probably bustling looking caustic in cafés. With Lundi.
The French word for cigarette is cigarette.
Wednesday is Mercredi, which always sounded to me like something you’d make for mom in arts-and-crafts category at summer stay after you upheld the gimp prerequisite. Remember gimp? Am we dating myself here? Is that even authorised in this state?
Thursday is Jeudi, easy to memorize if you know the Cary Grant impression, “Judy, Judy, Judy.” Which he never indeed said, as he explains here. Still, “Jeudi, Jeudi, Jeudi” is easier to remember than Accounting Methods of Amortization and Depreciation, we suppose.
Friday is Vendredi, which sounds like a mid-engine V12 Ferrari. Any automobile amatory child can remember Vendredi.
Saturday is Samedi, which could be an AKC dog breed.
You can hear David Frei, the perennial Westminster Kennel Clubannouncer: “The Samedi is a true operative dog – proud, royal and well-mannered, though it does chain-smoke Gauloise cigarettes. This is… your champion Samedi.”
And then there is Sunday. Dimanche.
They had this great, musical stroke going … Lundi, Merdi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi… and then… DIMANCHE!
It’s a linguistic pound in the conduct after 6 hugs in a row. A Guinness after 6 eyeglasses of Cabernet.
Got to adore the French for that. In fashion, dance, art, orderly labor, no matter the discipline, they adore to startle us. “Look!” Robin Williams says in his French impression, “I am giving a cigarette to a bébé!”
I gamble Robin never finished Accounting II, either.
© 2012 Jeff Sawyer



