Okay I might not have told the whole story the other day about my afternoon at the Semur vide grenier. Those who know me might have been suspicious when I said that a rummage sale would be enough to drag me away from a day on the couch with Tommy Lee Jones. I left out something that Neil said to me on the phone that caused me to race up the stairs one leg already out of the gorgeous sweatpants that have now taken root to my flabby arse. It seems that a man need only utter one word to get me undressed: Donkeys.
I love donkeys. We see them around here all the time but always from a speeding car so when he called and said there were dozens of donkeys in the middle of Semur I was off like a shot. And not only did they have donkeys at work like these
but they also had ones FOR SALE!! Now I ask you is this the time to talk about fiscal responsibility or space constraints when a donkey or as the French say un ane (ass) named Tulipe is looking for a good home?
Or what about this one who reminds me so much of me that I find it hard to believe that Neil didn’t agree that we could pass her off as our progeny?
But my favourite of the lot is this little guy. So poised, so agile, so refined and dignified…
I really, really wanted one but Neil (wanker) wouldn’t hear of it, you know he of the great austerity and all that. He just didn’t get it. I mean what woman in her right mind wouldn’t break the bank for a new ass?
They are so cute!!
I have been begging my husband to get chickens, but he is wholly against the idea.
Husbands = dream crushers. :)
Honestly, you are the best! this is such great writing…
For a minute I thought the title was restrain my ass – thought you might be hawking some new kind of undergarment – I’d buy it.
Hooray, Duchess is back from the wilds of Canada. I’ll restrain your arse if you ask me nicely…
XO
B
Yes, what is it about donkeys anyway? They are SO cute!
Oh Bobbi, how did you go home all alone, know “your ass” was out there needing a good housette filled with love and Neil’s cooking/leftovers? That gray and white one was yours, I’m sure of it.
HI!!
Too cute. Like the old saying goes, I got a donkey (well, usually its a dog) for my husband…. Thats what I call a good trade!!
Just saw Monty and your Mom at my favourite string of vintage shops down the street. This is where I can usually be found on a Saturday afternoon when I should be working on my paper but my brain is too fried to string together another sentence let alone footnote a 75 page paper…
Anyway your Mom asked me to impress upon you that “no, it wasn’t in a supermarket” I have now fulfilled my obligations and will go worry about whether those sorry little asses found good homes…We have over an acre and the grass needs cutting again..all I need is good immigration consultant who can get my ass pass customs. Hmmn..??. Actually I’ve been pressing for chickens and pygmy goats as well but my feller ain’t as enthused. I can imagine what he’d think of that mulish idea. Sorry, no more puns.
Karen
http://caribouhillkitchen.blogspot.com/
Way back in 1984 me, my mother, and my sister all traipsed off to Chateau Chenonceaux. The palace was OK, but the donkey that they kept in a pen in a field nearby was superb. She let us pet her, and she studied us all with the grave regard of a true philosophe. To this day we all remember her name: Philomene.
I don’t care if I ever see the Loire Valley again, but I still miss that donkey.
Hahahaha. So, wait, you didn’t sneak back to buy one after Neil was on his way home? Fail. And disappointment.