Again, from the Parfait Files:
Yesterday, as I convinced my thigh muscles to pleaselordpleasepushthatgiantstackofweightsupandawayfrommybody, Parfait was in an inquisitive mood.
Parfait: "Mademoiselle, I bet you read those magazines about all of the crazy people, like 'Oh, what is he wearing?' and 'What is she doing'...?"
Moi: "Um, are you talking about celebrity magazines?"
P: "Oh, yes, Mademoiselle. They are all about Britney Spears and Brad Pitt."
Moi: (struggling to prevent a large quantity of weight from tumbling backward into my fragile knees and crushing my lower extremities) "Um..."
P: "You know what I think they need to do with Britney Spears?"
Moi: (Setting lock on weight machine as to prevent the aforementioned leg-smashing from happening, knowing that this will be a good one) "No...what?"
P: "I think that she should go to my country."
Moi: (delighted that my prophecy has come true) "You want them to ship Britney Spears to Cameroon? What would she do there?"
P: "Oh, Mademoiselle - she would find peace. Britney Spears could have peace in my land."
I dissolve into laughter.