DAHLINGS,
I am going to ignore that comment on my previous post. Let's just say that I have the employment agency on speed dial. One cannot trust those foreigners...
AHEM. But back to moi, a personage of far greater importance than someone who cannot appreciate the finer things in life, even though she has the privilege of dusting them.
About my Adventure, the effects of which I am still feeling, sensitive soul that I am…
As far as I was concerned, it was time to get back my darling Bucky (a pure-bred Miniature Pinscher of impeccable background, if a bit too inclined to lick his private parts when I am entertaining). I had threatened the upstarts who had him with legal action, and their response was too vulgar for me to retype here. I didn’t appreciate the poor dear until I had the damnable Japanese puppy…sometimes, as the song lyric so eloquently put it, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.
So, yesterday I took a taxi out to Connecticut, to confront these nouveau riche riffraff. I was garbed in an impeccably tailored I-mean-business suit by my good friend Yves, and stiletto heels to further emphasize my height. I told the taxi to wait for me, because I had a feeling this was not going to be pleasant. Little did I know…
Oh, drat, that’s the cell phone. The representative from the foundation where we are setting up “Haute Cou-Poor,” what can he want NOW?
Later, dahlings. My apologies for calling you hooligans. The intolerable strain I’ve been through made me momentarily lose my tact.
Au revior,
Elisa
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