Just putting the finishing touches on my Man Cave's chambre à coucher. Très groovalicious. Replete with a state of the art lit d'eau ("water bed" for you non-French speaking peasants out there), African fertility sculptures, a copious lotion & oils chest, and decked floor to ceiling with as much endangered Leopard pelt as one could poach, smuggle, or pinch. It's taken me many moons, but I've obtained enough Leopard flesh to make my dream a reality. And what better way to christen such an endeavor than inviting over one of my special lady friends for an evening of martinis and connect the dots. Schwing!
I've kept one future pelt as a pet, whom I'm calling Sir Dingles. But alas, I'm beginning to tire of Sir Dingles incessant nibbling of my dry clean deliveryman. Humorous at first, he recently took a bite out of my Duke Dunby hound's-tooth blazer during one such nibble-fest. I will miss his entertainment value, but he'll make a perfect Leopard lined bathtub.
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