Bon Apetite!

You'll find different kind of fashion here in the classrooms in this school, yet none are dresses of la rouge. I prefer the dresses of la bleu, but you can't always have everything you want. Comment Ca Va Mr. Blanc, and Bonjour to you. Merci to you. For every other interaction I am much less formal, hows going I said going how is it to you in a hows it going sort of way, or for more the finicky people Comment Ca Va I said going Comment Ca Va in a Comment Ca Va sort of way. Whatever way that may be.

Well you'll be surprised around here how many idiots will get into said formal affairs, although at least they no longer wear the cap and huge ass bow. I'd rather my diaries and affairs not be associated with a mouse, as they keeps my desires low. It was a normal day in the classroom when the bell rang, then all was over. Finally I could go back to doing what I was doing at home. For the most part classes were as normal, that would read specially designed stories to learn English and I found my competence for their language becoming more so over time. Part of what I did not want in becoming a teacher, was the expectation of nun like purity. Although thankfully over the years this has gone by the way side, although there was a period when nuns fucked more than school teachers. And that's saying something when I break my teacher's oath, and take a gypsy girl the occasional night out.

I admit it, I'm a bit of a gypsy taster. Yes, indeed a taster. Although not a waster, I prefer the draw of the dining experience, traveling to various restaurants in the French-American sector of Tacoma and Seattle. Every now and then you'll meet a Jewish French girl whose long curly locks rival the beauty of the prettiest of stallions, while she fries up in her personal kitchen wild green scallions for the local entrée for the affair. For the most part the staff doesn't care, it's only if you try to court a student. But the age of middle and high school students become older by the decade with the medical technology advancing, remaining in high school till you're twenty seven--for a human child, it is not uncommon.

Aside from the cooking, my favorite part of women is for those whose feet are not bony and have just a little bit of meat on them with little stubbly toes tightly curled under. For those I stare as these girls help the gypsy in the mom and pops kitchen in their ornately hand woven dresses.

The girls with the loosely woven pigtails is the best.

I like her a bit better, she doesn't flirt with customers, her feet gorgeous. And her eyes you could stare into like the sun yet without going blind. The feeling of brightness that makes you smile forever.

"Bon Apetite!" she said, and left with not attention to me.

About as I prefer.

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