She So Funny

Sundays are the best.  Not because it is a day of praising our Lord, nor, because it is possibly a day of drinking until blackout.  It is the best day of the week because Downton Abbey comes on, and I have my weekly pretend time.  Pretending like I am a British aristocrat, with lots of money and white people problems.  I speak in my British accent (the only word I can say is "'ELLO!") and drink wine out of a shot glass (I can't afford those adorable, crystal mini wine glasses).  Then I turn on the lights in my apartment and react in amazement (that damn electricity...don't trust it.  It will give you cancer, if you let it).  After that, I dress my dogs in their tuxedos and make them serve me mutton off of a silver platter (French service, of course).  After dinner, we retire to the sitting room (the bathroom) where everyone listens to me sing songs from days of yore.  I complete the night by having my lady maid (my dog Miss Beans) dress me for bed.  We then ponder life together (tell silly jokes and gossip about Mrs. Crawley's lady maid) before she leaves my room and retires for the night.  Oh, the sweet, sweet life of the privileged, I think to myself as I drift into slumber.

A little piece of Downton in Jersey City.