Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Yves Yves on the Fallen Leaves

Bonjour mes petites, it is Yves, still on the ferme, near Menton. I slept an entire day. It is soo lovely. Can you smell the lavender and santolina on the breeze? Ooh ooh, it so lovely and peaceful, and watching the cook’s golden haired daughter playing with the cat. It is the type of morning that gives the Devil migraine headaches.

You need to get out this summer. If you have no money, go to the bus or train depot, find a prostitute or drug dealer, they always have cash on them, and sell them your silly iPod. You won’t miss it. You people need to unplug more. That lovely man Gandhi, so svelte and tanned, he used to never speak on Sundays, to rest.

When I was un garçon, like you, in Algeria, we would always go to the piscine municipale, my lovely sisters and I , and swim and splash, and then go right across the street to the biblioteque and check out books. This library had a summer reading program, with a darling theme, such a stars or dinosaurs, or flowers, and when you filled out your card, you got a prize. Well, Yves loves books not blogs, and wants you to have an elegant summer, so we are having a contest. Send in your best reading list at the end of summer, and there will be great prizes. Oh quelle surprise, we will shop Karl’s closet for prizes!

Oooh, I see tomatoes sliced, and can smell roasted garlic, so it must be time for luncheon. Read mes amis, it makes you original, and that is very chic. Ooh, I am so happy here, it will be a few days before we leave for Morocco. Bon Voyage!

1 comment:

isabel said...

Oh, yes books, are lovely, and so are you, Yves. Where has our dear Uncle Lagerfeld gone, though?