Juliette is the goddess of fashion and Christian Dior. She has all the characteristics of a Parisian lady; she is slim, and so beautiful with her elfin cut, and I would say, with her apparently simple dresses (just god knows how much she pays for clothes! terrible). She wins when she is with other ladies. She is intelligent I must say. She is powerful. She never battles with other girls. Or I should say, they never battle with her; she knocks every one down when the ladyship matters. But she hates me. I am mindless and she thinks I am worse than a fat slaughterer in slaughter house. When I refuse to go out for a diner with her in a restaurant that she prefers to go, always posh and first class places, she nags: you are like a railway worker, I do not understand how you teach or write. You are a wrong man. She is never happy with me when we are out; in restaurant she several times hits me and nags; mind your manner, sir! I ask, what happened? she says; you never look around when you are with a lady in here. It is considered to be so rude. She thinks I am cold. Or I am cold when I must not be. And extremely warm, when I must not. She says you are an idiot. cl.ly/ZMi1?_ga=1.38473191.573127290.1417375004
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 01:48:58 +0000
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