The most amazing thing. Both Hortense and Eunice met up with men at the Masked Ball. They were so full of themselves over breakfast this morning, as giggly and girlish as ten year olds, repeating everything the men had said and done. Acting quite silly in fact, even by their standards. Hard to know what any man could see in two such ugly old slappers, but then there really is no accounting for taste, as witness father’s attraction to the poison dwarf. No doubt the men were drunk, or perhaps they were having a contest to see who could pull the ugliest looking woman, in which case the judges must have had a real problem deciding who’d won. I listened to them twitter on about their great adventure, feeling quite indulgent after my own liaison, letting them enjoy their little moment of triumph instead of putting them down as I usually do.
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One of the items in the personal column of the newspaper, which my odious stepsisters read religiously, had everyone in a flap this morning. “Mystery lady met on New Year’s Eve at The Palais Masked Ball, I need to see you again, D. Please contact Box 109.” Both Hortense and Eunice were convinced it was the man they had met, and the poison dwarf told them to write in to the Box No. Probably she’s hoping to off-load one of the gruesome twosome before they eat us out of house and home, a vain hope if you ask me. What man, sober and seeing them in the cold light of day, isn’t going to run a mile?