Monday, June 25, 2012

Jeeves, Where the Hell Is My Mint Julep?

In my last post, I may have alluded to a carefree summer, full of bonbon eating, bridge party attending and mint julep drinking.

If you have read me for any length of time, I am sure you know just how much of that notion is false,but I think I better clear up some things.

I have never eaten a bonbon. At least, not the rich, chocolatey things that people always think rich people who never work sit around eating. Bonbon means candy in French and yes, I have eaten candy in my life, but never while wearing a mink stole and holding a footlong cigarette in the other hand.

I know nothing about bridge and I really dont even want to take up any more space on my blog with such talk.


And, my biggest confession? I have no idea what a mint julep tastes like. I don't really even like mint that much and I rarely drink. I couldn't even tell you  which alcohol is in it. I did promotions for alcohol for many years (and that, my friends, is what we call irony) and I never did have to sell any julep nor did I ever see it on the shelves.

So, let's recreate the image of bliss that I will experience while your children run amok through your houses this summer, free from the confines of la classe de francais. Picture me in my hammock. A cat in my lap. Some totally low level beach novel in my hand. A gorgeous breeze. And me eating cherries and spitting the pits from my hammock without a care in the world.

Now THAT is the definition of class right there!. And that?   That is my bliss. Typing the original post on an iPad? Not really my bliss but beggars have no choices.

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