|I'VE JUST NOTICED that it looks like I am |
talking to that bottle of wine. Which is absurd.
Because I would never do that.
(What's that, Red Knot? Did you just tell me
I'm beautiful? Goddam you.)
On the other hand, I do speak fluent francaise and I could have come in very handy as a translator. Providing she planned to curse at everyone she met and also ask, "Where the fuck does one get the good wine around here, you euro-bastards?"
I made that pitch to her but she was curiously resistant.
Anyway, I was feeling a wee bit sorry for myself this afternoon so I bought a bottle of something decent and sat outside in the gazebo that almost killed four grown men and enjoyed the astonishingly glorious weather that was a consolation prize from God.
EDITOR'S NOTE: You see what your friend has done, here? She has given you an awesome, iron-clad reason to get shit-hammered.
MY NOTE: This is why she is my best friend.
p.s. Enjoy your time in Paris, my beautiful friend. Ma petite chou.You so deserve it.