I'm reading the latest copy of Elle Decor when my father calls.
He's just returned from hunting. He wants to know if I'd like some of the wild boar he's killed.
I say, "maybe later, thanks."
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9 comments:
You know it’s tough these days to be able to do it all and simultaneously. Decorating, fashion, trapping, gutting etc…Looks like somebody will be getting a new wild boar fur coat for Christmas this year.
Tell him to sell it to one of our chi-chi Italian restaurants here in NYC. A plate of tagliatelle with wild boar ragu goes for around $25.
And then you can consult Elle Decor for tasteful tips on positioning your boar skin rug for maximum effect.
Will he be brining parts for wild boar knuckles?
is that a euphemism, Miss J?
If so, probably.
Too too funny. There are times my mother will just look at me with utter perplexity. She's even said, "How on Earth did you come from ME?" And I just have to shrug in one of the endless variations of your "maybe later, thanks."
(I take it Daddy is going to be voting for Miz Palin and that guy she's running with?)
Not unless he hopes to be strung up like that wild pig there.
When confronted with wild hog, I say, "Go for glamour." Which probably explains why I no longer reside in Texas.
I hear DIOR is all about the wild boar muff for Winter '08...
He said muff, snerk.
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