Ma Belle France

I miss France. No, truly. Zey may sink zees eess oh-so friendly and happy a place, this Rouge and this Amber. But, moi, I know that the only place to truly live is ma belle France.

Kyra was telling me the other day, how she hopes to teach English in France. If she does, I shall beg and plead, and weep pearly little tears down my petals and make her pack me with her.

I shall sit on a pretty French window sill and gabble away with the other French plants - the red geraniums, the lilac bougainvilleas, the ivy twirling so gracefully on trellis of cottages. We shall twirl the sweet smoky smell of Gauloises Bleus cigarettes around our leaves (for nothing smells like France the way those do), we shall listen to the perfection of Edith Piaf and feel at homely peace, we shall talk and argue Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir till from sunrise to sunset. And in the dusky twilight, I shall meet my Jaune, my debonair yellow fiancee, who will feed me escargots and cheese and wine, and we shall make sweet sweet love in the honeysuckle scented air. Sigh.

L'amour in France is nothing like lesbian l'amour in a dusty Abu Dhabi balcony. I see those dirty looks that Amber gives me when shes "sleeping". Sleeping, pah! In France, I would never sleep. I would never be lazy or bored or lonely.

In France, I would truly, oh-so truly live.

When I'm Sleeping.

I hate the fact that those two give me so much grief for sleeping so much. Sleeping is good, okay? Not to mention, Im bright orange. If I dont sleep, I'll fade. If you dont understand that logic, well you know...too freaking bad! Do I say anything when Rouge makes chirpy conversation to birds, people or herself? Do I say anything about her irritating commentary when shes TVwatching? Noooo. Do I say anything about Blanche flaunting her fiancee "Jaune" in my face? Do I say anything about how she flaunts the prettiness of her petals in my face? Nope. Not a thing. I prefer to sleep.

When Im sleeping I can't hear Rouge's constant chipper chatter. I can't smell Blanche's perfume. Nada, nothing. Its just blankness, and I can afford to fill it in with more interesting things. Like nightdreaming and daydreaming of anything that catches my fancy (except Blanche) Like the taste of tortilla chips, yummy. Or Metallica's new album. Not so yummy. Or the invention of a guitar which is also a piano which is also an accordion. Or a bright orange iPod touch. Which you know, is bougainvillea-friendly.

Sleep. Sleep is good. Naptimes are the happiest times in the world, and in these oh-so very hot heartbroken days, what else is there to do?

Ps - I dont know what possessed me to fall for a French girl. All these French girls are trouble. Rouge was telling me about this show she watches 'Gilmore Girls' - in one of the episodes, they make fun of French girls, and its all true! All their coquettish but threatening sidelong glances, their single, double and triple entendres, their creepily perfect skin, like they inject themselves with beauty cream (the last point Kyra told me, when I asked her how Blanche was so much prettier than me). Oi vey, these French. I hope Marie Antoinette doesnt emerge from her grave to step on me.

Being The Oldest Kid Rocks.

Since Im the oldest, and therefore the most important, I get to be the first to blog solo. Haha, suckers! Amber's looking at me morosely (isnt that a nice word, Kyra taught me!) but she's been through a lot, coming out of the closet and everything, so I'll let her blog next. Blanche on the other hand, keeps sticking her nose up at me and telling me that being the oldest isnt a good thing - it just means I'm prone to wrinkles. Blanche might be the prettiest bougainvillea I know, but sheesh. These French.

Sometimes I wish I were still the only bougainvillea in the balcony. It was so nice and pleasant with Mommy Mathews talking to me all the time, and being the prettiest plant in the house. Then those two came along, and then everything changed. I can't sit and think in peace. And trust me, there are a lot of things to think about. Like whether or not Daddy Mathews' car is being washed properly (I can see from the balcony, you know) and whether or not Im going to ever be the greatest bougainvillea philosopher/poet to have ever lived and you know, stuff like that.

Now I have to listen to Amber singing angsty rock songs and Blanche telling me I need Creme de la Mer so my skin doesnt look washed out. How am I supposed to think great thoughts when Ive got rock music blaring on one side, and pots of Creme de la Mer chucked on the other?

Its a good thing that Mommy Mathews lets me have my own corner. See Blanche? There are benefits to being the oldest! Those two share a corner, but I have my own. I also have the best view. Mommy Mathews trusts me - she knows Im not stupid enough to tip over. Those two are still babies, and after Amber's love was rejected by Blanche, Mommy Mathews was sure Amber would just hurl from the balcony if care wasnt taken.

Anyway. You know the best thing about being the oldest and having my own corner? I get to watch TV! YES!

So, what were you saying again. Blanche? I couldnt hear, I was watching "Agatha Christies Poirot" SUCH a sexy moustache. Yowza.

In the Summertime

We hate the summer. We don't really see why anyone would like the summer. Our leaves get all wilty, and we get all shrivelly. And while we (Rouge and Amber) don't mind it THAT much, at least we get to bask in the sun, Blanche really suffers. Her pretty white porcelain skin gets all wrinkly and no amount of moisture spritzes seems to fix it. Of course, the stress of pining away for her long-lost love Jaune shows on her face too.

It was this miserable state of affairs that decided it. If we were going to burn anyway, the least we could get is some entertainment. So, after many plaintive sighs and many wilted leaves, we convinced Kyra to give us our very own blog. We would have had it much sooner, if we hadnt driven her plain crazy with our very varied ideas. I, Rouge wanted a sensible blog with no fuss or frills. I, Amber wanted a goth blog, where I could vent all my pain and frustration. I, Blanche wanted a pretty blog, dedicated to beauty tips. So yes, we drove her up the wall, but its done. Phew. Now we have something to do.

We'd blogged once before, you know. That's when we got our first taste of the Internet and decided "Wowee!" This is so for us! We planned and planned, oh how we planned. We knew that when Kyra came back home from finals, she'd be all droopy and vulnerable, and it would be the best time to attack. So we did, by being droopier and more vulnerable than she. We preyed on her vulnerabilities, by being oh-so-sad and wilty, that there was no way she could deny us this. So, here we are. Blogging in the summertime. Who needs moisture spritzes now?