Saturday, April 01, 2006

Mrs. Mills bags it!

Ah Mrs. Mills, you’re my hero (heroine). When those pesky men get just a wee bit too pushy, you know how to gently, but firmly put them back in their place.


I’ve just acquired a new boyfriend who has the disconcerting habit of asking me to carry his wallet when we are out. This fat black appendage is not something I’d choose to carry in my Prada bag. Should I be flattered by his trust, dip into it for a holding fee or slip it into his back pocket the next time I caress his rear?
Understated, but brilliant response:

Men believe that women’s handbags contain infinite volume. Then again, this only makes it more likely that somewhere in that void is a viscous mix of melted lipstick, gunky mascara and half a bottle of some pungent girlie scent that gets all over his wallet and makes him refuse to entrust it to you ever again. (He’ll never know that the putrid concoction was prepared earlier and safely contained within an industrial-strength polythene bag within your precious handbag.)

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