Je ne suis pas un coc...

Is this what the mean by a double-ended coc?

Since I'm on my way to Quebec City proper in a couple of days I thought I'd bone up on my French. Above is almost the extent of it, despite my years of high school French. Je ne suis pas un coc. I am not a rooster or a penis, and praise be to Darwin for that.

I'm off to see Marjo and Sandy get married in Sainte-Foy, Quebec and I'm uber-excited, not only because I will see the two best people in the world walk down the aisle but because I will get to visit an extended family, a family who gets me when I carry around an alarm clock and wear my red pom pom winter hat proclaiming for all to hear "Je ne suis pas un coc." And they will laugh at my French and call me cute because at least I tried to speak their language.

Do you need a background on the coc thing? Really? Isn't it enough that I'm not a penis? I can sometimes be a dick and will freely admit this, especially when it's said in jest but call me a dick in all seriousness and I would be all distress and wide eyes. Me? A dick? Okay, well sometimes. But I am never a rooster.

And because I am not a rooster, I will share with you my coc story. It was more than a few years ago (more than I care to admit). I'd just bought my house when Marjo asked me if her sister's boyfriend - her now-brother-in-law - could stay with me over the summer to follow in her footsteps and immerse himself into the English world. Enter Francis, the instigator of many water fights and hands-down the best summer roommate/boarder/friend ever. He's my little French brother and while I don't see him very often, his smile, laugh and joie de vivre pops into my consciousness and I smile.

Again, more than a few years ago, Francis came for a visit and I trekked in the cold, apres-Christmas snow to Oakville to see our Francis. And I wore my hat. Sandy opened the door and started to laugh. I didn't know why until he brought out the alarm clock, set the alarm for a minute after my arrival and then started crowing... you guessed it... like a rooster. With my limited French and a reach back to my first French class and I whined, "Je ne suis pas un coc." It sounded as dirty then as it does now. Francis turned red, fell on the floor and I thought he'd pass out. "Of all the French we spoke, that is what you remember?" he exclaimed.

I was under pressure, wearing a rooster hat and laughing over an alarm clock, so yes, Francis, that is the best I could come up with. You're welcome.

I am not a rooster, nor an alarm clock and definitely not a penis. But, I can be a dick sometimes.