Did you know that in French, there is no word for "seventy," per se? Instead they say "soixante-dix," (soixante rhymes with croissant, which I'm not even going to get into, and dix is pronounced like a vampire might say "this") which literally means sixty-ten. Seventy-one is actually sixty-eleven, and so on. OK, so here's the part I love most about French. After sixty-ten comes four-twenties, and after four-twenties comes four-twenties-ten. Perhaps my favorite French number is quatre-vingt-dix-neuf (pronounced cot[insert guttural hacking up a hairball noise here]-ven-dees-noof), or 99. The literal translation would be "four-twenty-ten-nine." Love it. Although, I must admit that I'm a bit perplexed by the fact that a people who can't even be bothered to pronounce half the letters in their words would exercise such verbosity when counting. I'm just saying.
Sometimes I like to purposely mispronounce French words and misuse them. Like I might sing the following song:
SOIX-aaaaaante. You don't have to put on the red light.
SOIX-aaaaaante. You don't have to wear that dress tonight.
Soixante/Put on the red light...Soixante/Put on the red light
But that's just me.
Notice: Neither Sting nor the Police were notified of the butchering of their song, so just zipit. Capeesh?