By dint of most infortuitous circumstances

Wait, wait, I didn't leave. By dint of most infortuitous circumstances, I'm still hanging around here. (So waht?)

I took four years of Latin, which was useless, except that it helped with the three years of High School Spanish. But it was all formal Spanish. Taught by people from Argentina who wished they lived in Spain. That does me what good talking to my neighbors from South of the Border and across the Great American SouthWest? Worse than speaking formal high-tone British to a Texas cowhand.

I always heard that the best way to learn "real" Espa*ol -- you know, all the jargon, the idioms... okay, the hardcore cusswords -- was to have a Spanish-speaking girlfriend. Now, that sounded like a good plan to me, as long as I didn't have to keep her around for the blimped-out mama stage. So, I thought about that a lot when I lived out in New Mexico. When I asked, though, the Mrs shot the idea down. She did suggest maybe she should get a Spanish girlfriend, instead, which at first seemed tempting, but, you know, they'd start talking Espa*ol behind my back, and I wouldn't know what the [insert word] they were saying. Next thing you know... Well, it sounds good in theory....

(*can't use enyas with this primitive 16th-Century software)

OLE!