We have a running joke about pictures of me in t-shirts, Callaghan and me, and it’s been a while.
So, here’s one from yesterday:
I remember the first time I wore this shirt. We went to Fry’s Electronics, and the guy stationed at the EXIT door asked, “Do you really speak French?” as we were leaving.
“Yes,” I answered. But barely, I finished in my head.
That’s meaning number 1: “Pardon my French” in the literal sense, because my French is full of holes.
Meaning number 2: “Pardon My French” is American slang for, “YES, I SWORE,” often with the snarky sub-text of, “SORRY I’M NOT SORRY.” It’s a handy way to acknowledge that you used profanity while expressing that you don’t care. I tend to swear freely in casual conversation… not angrily, just casually. (It’s a habit I should probably lose, but I can switch it off when appropriate, so why bother?)
All in all, “Pardon My French” is an easily understandable expression t-shirt for me. It’s also one of those shirts you want to live in because it’s so soft and thin and comfortable. It’s voluminous – long and loose with tight sleeves – and it’s gray, my favorite color.
Happy Friday, All!