An imagined scenario in which I get to use all of my memorized phrases (Spanish speakers, I used Google translate, so this may sound retarded. I mean, like, more retarded than it's supposed to):
Scene: A clothing shop.
Me: Drunk, probably.
Clerk: Would you like to buy a suit?
Me: No me gustan ternos, mi estilo es moderno. (I don’t like suits, my style is modern. —thanks, Rico Suave)
Clerk: Oh, somebody told me you like suits.
Me: Yo no se quien ha mentido.
(I do not know who lied. —also from Rico Suave)
Clerk: What about a suit of many colors, like Joseph from the Bible?
Me: De colores. (Colors. —De Colores, Folk song/Joan Baez/Raffi song my second grade class performed at assembly)
Clerk: Um, yes, that’s what I said. Colors.
Me: De colores es el arco iris que vemos lucir. (Colors is the rainbow we see shining. —De Colores)
Clerk: Are you maybe having a stroke?
Me: No mi siento bien. (I don’t feel good. —The only sentence I retained from Mr. Cangiarella’s Spanish class in fifth grade)
Clerk: Do I need to call an ambulance?
Me: Oh!, oh!, oh!, esta es la linda tierra que busco yo. (Oh!, oh!, oh!, this is the lovely land that I seek. —from the Puerto Rican national anthem, which I learned in elementary school)
And that, friends, is how I may end up in a Dominican mental institution. Happy birthday to me!
(UPDATE: Today is not my birthday, it's April 13. I just meant that I might spend my b'day in a mental institution. But thank you for the well-wishes!)