Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Scratch That

Have you been to that pharmacy? The one in the 16th arondissement, across the street from the fabulous bakery?

Ah. I see from your little smirk that you have.

Sure, you may say you go there for the prices, or maybe because it’s right next to your kid’s school.

But La Mom knows the truth.

Honey, we all go there for a bit of Carribean sunshine when Gray Paree needs a little pick-me up.

Hang on – let me fill all of the non-residents in to the worst-kept secret in Paris. There’s one guy who works in this pharmacie who is a bona-fide hottie. Broad shoulders, a one-cheek dimple, and the sexiest smile north of Martinique.

Ahem. I digress.

Point is, La Mom knows better than to go there when she needs, oh, let’s say tampons or toenail fungus remover.

Not so much the case for South Carolina Mom. The woman had an itch, and she needed it scratched.

Tout de suite.

SC Mom:
Oh. Ma. Gawd. You will not believe what happened to me last Sunday.

La Mom
(alarmed): Is Cody OK?

SC Mom: Oh, Cody’s fine. It was my lady parts that needed some attention. So I went to that pharmacy.

La Mom
(dreamily): Yeah. Wait a minute. No way – what did you do?!?

SC Mom: It’s not like that! La Mom, it’s ten times worse.

La Mom: I’m listening.

SC Mom: Well, I had some burning – down there. I was desperate! All of the other pharmacies were closed because it was Sunday. So…

La Mom: You didn’t.

SC Mom:
I did! Good Lord, I had to! I don’t know how to say “yeast infection” in French. So I kind of did this, well, dance. You know, pointing to the parts.

SC Mom (pantomiming): I. Am itching. Down here. (Scratches for emphasis.)

What can I say? At least South Carolina Mom scratched that particular itch.

Not to mention any chances for repeat visits to Martinique.
 

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