Qu’est-ce que vous faites en Canada??? I KNOW I saw you get on the Yonge subway line in Toronto the other night. A tall attractive woman caught my eye as we both boarded – her devilishly sharp stilettos were a dead giveaway, of course. Looked to be in her thirties, dark attractively coiffured hair, perfect makeup (you chienne, how *do* you desperately stylish women manage to look so fresh-faced all day long??? And me with my mascara smudging beneath my eyes and shiny skin and caking eye makeup!) She had on a short black coat oh-so-chicly cinched at her enviously small waist – and of *course*, legs to die for. Again I say, *chienne*!!! It was just how I envisioned you looking. Well…just to get you back for looking so unattainably smashing, I said in a loud voice, “I’ve issued a restraining order against George Clooney because he just won’t get over it and move on,” and your head whipped up from what I could only assume was the New Yorker and you gave me a look that melted down my PalmPilot (you’ll get my bill for $500 in the mail, vixen!) I was going to introduce myself nevertheless but then I saw you *weren’t* reading the New Yorker, it was some celebrity gossip mag without George Clooney on the cover, so I knew you were traveling incognito. So I didn’t give you away.
Outside the 212? As if.
Besides, as we all know, Miss Snark is transported about the city in a sedan chair.