My recipe for avoiding a murder before Christmas (because it's ugly!) 
J'entends déjà vos remarques amusées et perfides, alors épargnez-moi vos sarcasmes et vos railleries je vous prie! Oui, et re-oui, je suis allée faire mes dernières courses de Noël ce samedi, malgré mes bonnes résolutions gravées dans marble of November, November damn passing too fast and was ringing the bell of my recent purchases. Once again, November has been the coach, grinning like a madman, leaving me to deal with honeyed December 1, enlightened and slippery as an eel.
Taking head-on this day shameful proof of my laxity and my lack of anticipation, I get my daughter to 50% responsible for this fiasco because they are his gifts that we choose together. It must be said that the damsel has a rich social life and time and had so far no time to devote myself.
Hush I tell you! Useless make fun of you in addition to my lack of maternal authority!
In the vast library of my town, the vendors themselves as professors from the Sorbonne and always seem absorbed by metaphysical reflection before their shelves of books. It takes some courage to dare ask them any information and we begin to whisper in a university library as a trollop in front row of pearls and twin-set color camel. But no matter, since we find what we want. At the checkout, a customer is located astride the two queues history to go faster than everybody and I let her do in front of me by hiding my envy to strangle behind an angelic smile. When he left, I gratifies a "goodbye Lady" who makes her thunderous return with a look suspicious to me. My daughter asks me if I know, what I say "of course I know it is THE leader of connasses!"
Later, looking for a necklace (not too sophisticated, but rank it anyway, especially not gold, not granny, original, not like everyone else, then it is a bit expensive this one ...) to my beloved daughter, and having the feeling of having done three times around the city in the opposite direction clockwise crazy, I off at a shop at incredible volume, filled with jewelry that we make winks shameless. My daughter and I have a bug flutters a few seconds before the saleswoman who, besides his look of cattle caused by a dripping kohl, displays five piercings on his face. Glups, I watch my daughter to her cheeks rosy from the cold and finds a beautiful Madonna. The worst part is where we find the coveted necklace and a little I would dance the Sirtaki to thank I do not know that!
The girl's eyes makes us neurotic cocker gift box worthy of a workshop for disabled children but how can blame a poor creature holed everywhere? I feel a little old but it does not matter at all!
Ending in a clothing store that looks like a market stall, I find myself repeatedly having to help my sisters small to grab a sweater, jacket, scarf placed out of reach. I verify that I have not inadvertently put on hold vendors to the point of entry to be confused ... but no, I just measure 1m75 and this feature should make me look like some sort of scale.
Summarizing quickly my purchases to 17 hours, I see with satisfaction that I accomplished my mission, but at the cost of a stubborn temper, lack of tolerance close to zero degree, and I must admit, an incomprehensible attraction for combat sports.
"It will take a Viennese chocolate" suggested my daughter?
sitting together in Socrates, the white leather banquettes, we undress like onions, peel after peel, ignoring the din and loud conversations. Our exchanges are to summarize our purchases, in a sort of torpor and quite satisfied sickening to think of it. But we're good!
chocolates arrive and it's ecstasy. Sparkling, fragrant, hot, topped with a hat and light whipped cream dusted with cocoa.
It mocks our cream mustaches and we close our eyes to slurp gently in half the fabulous drink. Bliss, drowned in chocolate.
forget the queen of the slut, the salesperson hands gourds and dwarfs who see me as a stool ... I forget my desires and violent offenders ... I forget my desires of martial arts.
For a bit I start singing "I Wish You a merry christmas"....avec clochette et tout le toutim!
My little black dress is the queen of Minx. Always a bit mysterious, still somewhat remote, under pretext of its dark color distinguished it claims. She always has a condescending air to ogle its congeners of the closet, even if it is more often than others. She does not care. She knows she released a holiday or for an evening that is both chic and sober which she loves. 
