Tonight

I decided to stop at the straw market on the way home nothing like some fresh mangoes and a sarong to cheer a girl up.

Ugh, dreading dinner with J.C. he's such a typical frenchman, almost as bad as a girl.
If I don't comment on how his tan sets off his eyes and how his sweater sets off his tan he'll be pissed. Blah,blah,blah.

I'd rather be in Maine eating a real lobster than suffer through a tasteless carribean one accompanied by his drivel.

Oh well, Harold and Maude will be waiting for me when I get home.