J’adore Paris

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From the Pont des Arts.

Forget the padlocks on bridges and the Eiffel Tower. It’s all about the wine. Trust me on this.

About WSW

Writer, wife, mother. Toiler in the bottomless, black, soul-sucking coal mine of domestic life. Thank God for the portable bar.

Posted on July 14, 2014, in Cocktails!, Friendly Advice and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. I’m trying to imagine you sitting on that feces-stained dock, drinking your wine, worrying about the French bird crap (not crepe) seeping into the backs of your oh-so-fashionable skinny, black, cropped pants, that, incidentally, make you look like a twig.Ten days in Paris and I get photos of a shitty dock. Literally. Mon dieu! When do I get to see those friggin’ locks? The Eiffel Tower? The Arc de Triomphe? The Mona Lisa? Notre Dame? No charming close up of your croissant, cafe au lait and the salt shakers?

    That’s it. I’m going to have to insist that you bring me along next time so that someone can properly document your time in Paris. Let me know when our flight is booked. First class, of course.

  2. Did Mr. Slattern take this after you had the two bottles of champagne and fell face first into the water?

  3. For real? My relationship with you is becoming a series of spiritual opportunities to overcome envy.

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