The Lady is a Killer
One never knows when a gentleman caller will drop by, unannounced. Being the gracious hostess that I am, I always keep a magnum of Moët & Chandon in my boudoir, kept out of sight in a pretty cabinet I have at the foot of my queen-size bed.
I am a lady of contradictions, often misunderstood by those who have not yet had the pleasure. Despite all my altruistic efforts, nonetheless, my envious critics are quick to misjudge me, likening me to Marie Antoinette. Much to my chagrin, they have many a time accused me (wrongfully so, if you want my honest opinion!) of proffering a “let them eat cake” attitude. My admirers, however, are just as quick to point out that, had I only been born a mere score years earlier, Messieurs Khrushchev and Kennedy would have easily resolved their differences, and the world could have been spared the worst of the Cold War. Sadly, I digress; for I was born but in the aftermath of their political mêlée, and never had the carnal pleasure of making their acquaintance. Dare I say it would have been an indeclinable invitation?
Yet admirers and critics alike are apt to point out that I am a lady of style and class, that I possess a certain panache, as I like to use the term sparingly. My cavilers say that my insatiable appetite for caviar and cigarettes is in poor taste; yet my fanciers praise my infallible sense of etiquette, and use such flattering terms en abondance as “extraordinarily nice” and “guaranteed to blow your mind at anytime.” It has been said that I am like gunpowder and gelatine, and that I am dynamite with a laser beam, yet I sincerely do not know what they mean by that. When my foes say that I’m quite the killer, I like to think they mean that complimentarily. They say I’m recommended at the price; wanna try?
Life as we know it is full of complications. In order to keep things simple, I like to keep myself on the move. I have lived in all four corners of the globe, currently residing in French Polynesia, once my stint at the French Consul in St. Lucia ran its course. I have many conversations in which I am told that I speak just like a baroness. What can one expect from such a worldly lady such as myself?
Just recently I met the most delectable man from China who took me to a curious boîte called “Geisha Minah.” Incidentally, I only recommend it if you’re that way inclined.
Mes galants shower me with only the finest. Naturellement, my perfume comes from Paris. Once, even, I was presented with a Jaguar, but I just can’t be bothered with cars.
From my dear maman I inherited an astute sense of fastidiousness and precision since, let’s face it, if you’re going to bother doing something, it may as well be the best that it can be. But do not be mistaken: at the drop of a hat I can be as willing and playful as a pussycat one moment, and then the next it’s like I’m out of action, temporarily out of gas. But mes beaux don’t complain. They say it absolutely drives them wild. Mes critiques, however, will say that I’m just out to get you. But I say, decide for yourself!
I am a lady of contradictions, often misunderstood by those who have not yet had the pleasure. Despite all my altruistic efforts, nonetheless, my envious critics are quick to misjudge me, likening me to Marie Antoinette. Much to my chagrin, they have many a time accused me (wrongfully so, if you want my honest opinion!) of proffering a “let them eat cake” attitude. My admirers, however, are just as quick to point out that, had I only been born a mere score years earlier, Messieurs Khrushchev and Kennedy would have easily resolved their differences, and the world could have been spared the worst of the Cold War. Sadly, I digress; for I was born but in the aftermath of their political mêlée, and never had the carnal pleasure of making their acquaintance. Dare I say it would have been an indeclinable invitation?
Yet admirers and critics alike are apt to point out that I am a lady of style and class, that I possess a certain panache, as I like to use the term sparingly. My cavilers say that my insatiable appetite for caviar and cigarettes is in poor taste; yet my fanciers praise my infallible sense of etiquette, and use such flattering terms en abondance as “extraordinarily nice” and “guaranteed to blow your mind at anytime.” It has been said that I am like gunpowder and gelatine, and that I am dynamite with a laser beam, yet I sincerely do not know what they mean by that. When my foes say that I’m quite the killer, I like to think they mean that complimentarily. They say I’m recommended at the price; wanna try?
Life as we know it is full of complications. In order to keep things simple, I like to keep myself on the move. I have lived in all four corners of the globe, currently residing in French Polynesia, once my stint at the French Consul in St. Lucia ran its course. I have many conversations in which I am told that I speak just like a baroness. What can one expect from such a worldly lady such as myself?
Just recently I met the most delectable man from China who took me to a curious boîte called “Geisha Minah.” Incidentally, I only recommend it if you’re that way inclined.
Mes galants shower me with only the finest. Naturellement, my perfume comes from Paris. Once, even, I was presented with a Jaguar, but I just can’t be bothered with cars.
From my dear maman I inherited an astute sense of fastidiousness and precision since, let’s face it, if you’re going to bother doing something, it may as well be the best that it can be. But do not be mistaken: at the drop of a hat I can be as willing and playful as a pussycat one moment, and then the next it’s like I’m out of action, temporarily out of gas. But mes beaux don’t complain. They say it absolutely drives them wild. Mes critiques, however, will say that I’m just out to get you. But I say, decide for yourself!