Categories: uncategorized
Date: 28 February 2005 22:03:20
I must confess (blush) that on these occasions I had this recurring fantasy of a tall, dark, handsome frenchman crashing into me betwixt the champagne and the gin, sending my miserable bottle of Chateau Paintstripper smashing into a thousand pieces. Horrified at such a 'faux pas,' TDHF then insists on paying for a replacement bottle. 'Which wine was it, Madame? Chateau Plonk??!! Ah mon Dieu! Madame, you cannot possibly present that to your family at Sunday lunchtime. What would your husband think of me? Let me...no, no, I insist.' And he proceeds to present me with the most expensive bottle in the place. Thus presenting me with an even worse dilemma. Do I tell him what I really want it for? And, given the price, do I really want to use it for...? Or do I take it to be a message from the Almighty that I have a spirit of pride and stinginess and that nothing is too good for.....Aaagh!
Sometimes it's hard being an INFP.