livin on the edge

paris is worse than a movie stah. “no photos!” she cries out. every day. even when she looks her best. in fact, especially when she looks her best. so i’ve been forced to go full-on paparazzi style. and not just in the supermarches. and department stores. EVERYWHERE. i’ve decided: tis bettah to beg forgiveness. than ask permission. cuz if it were up to the french i would only have pictures of the eiffel tower and the arc de triomphe. i’ve resigned myself to a life of getting scolded. first at carrefour. then, at le bon marche. and last night. at mama shelter. as i snapped pics in the philippe starck-designed lobby. who knew paris could be so overprotective? when it comes to her macarons? and her cakes? and her hotels? listen, i’m all for having an air of mystery. but c’mon! it’s a macaron! i think it’s cuz she doesn’t want any mo suitors. coming along. and fallin in love with her. once they see her in all her glory.

well here i am, showing you the shiz you’re not supposed to see. cuz i’m a rebel. always have been. always will be. please forgive me, paris. i love you, ma cherie.

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