The taunts! The torture! Just when I am lamenting not having more of my beloved Loulou, she goes and finds, from our secret pharmacy a Londres, not only a vintage body lotion but a tassled, and apparently ‘DIVINE‘ smelling vintage PARFUM.
And then sends me a picture.
I can feel my veins and chest muscles constricting in jealousy.
I HATE YOU.
But perhaps I am just getting a well-deserved taste of my own, cruel medicine.
Is this how you feel when I gloat over mine?