Just because I want to remember the night that we went to our friendly neighborhood Haagen-Dazs store and Lucy and I tried to ask if we could have this poster when they were done with the ad campaign, only the Thai waitress didn't understand what we were saying so we kept saying it louder and slower until Theo had his hands over his eyes saying, "Please stop, please stop talking about this," and Chris was giggling so hard he had to put his head on the table to try and breathe and the waitress just walked away because she thought maybe we were making fun of her and now not only do we not have a Bradley Cooper poster, we can also never go back to Haagen-Dazs again.
I thought you guys would enjoy this month's cover of Expat Ladies. Seriously, do I even need to make any jokes?
While I rarely stand around in gardens massaging the pool boy's clavicle with my fashionably small clutch purse (the photo's caption points out the 'leather-collared cobalt black' sweater. But I don't think you should call him collared. That's offensive.)...
...we do spend our weekends riding mechanical bulls: