We were standing in front of a shop window at the Galleria, the Mistress and I, when we spotted a particularly repulsive outfit. Fluorescent pink mohair...and was that a clump of feathers? Gaaah.
Me: That looks like something Betty Rubble would wear.
The Mistress: Yeah...but only if Betty Rubble had a stroke and forgot how to dress herself.
[And that, Esteemed Readers, is why I call her the Mistress of Sarcasm.]
Me: That looks like something Betty Rubble would wear.
The Mistress: Yeah...but only if Betty Rubble had a stroke and forgot how to dress herself.
[And that, Esteemed Readers, is why I call her the Mistress of Sarcasm.]
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