.

Monsieur Chariot

Monsieur Chariot
Location
That Dazzling and Luminous California Metropolis known as The City Of The Angels, USA
Birthday
June 08
Bio
Offering Discreet Tutelage in the Metropolitan Arts to Inquiring Gentlepersons of Variously Misguided Social Persuasions

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FEBRUARY 25, 2009 12:42PM

Stalked by a Film Star

Rate: 63 Flag
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Gentle readers who do not live in the vicinity of Hollywood may be unaware of a perilous, millennial phenomenon which has come to plague the refined citizenry of our fair city: the shocking, shameful scourge of The Stalker Celebrity.

No, not Celebrity Stalkers, I tell you, but Stalker Celebrities. Yes, you heard that right! When a celebrity stalks, to whom does one turn? Do you go to the police? They won't believe you. This I can personally vouch for. The studios? Expect to leave a thousand, furious messages with a callously uninterested PR person. Even outlandish tabloid hacks shrink from reporting on it, despite reams of fastidiously supplied dates, times, specifics.

But M. Chariot is here to reveal, in no uncertain terms, that all is not lollipops & golden statuettes in our sunny village on the Pacific, no indeed! The unsuspecting gentleperson might imagine Los Angeles as a place where celebrities typically come and go, bustling hither and thither without incident. A naive and dangerous illusion! For the average citizen of this fair burg may suddenly find him- or herself terrorized by persons Famous – and Unhinged. Gripped by an unspeakable madness, film and television stars have been known to become chillingly obsessed with the Inconspicuous and the Unremarkable. With genteel yet Obscure ladies and gentlemen. Gentlemen like myself.

Scoff not, mesdames et messieurs! For M. Chariot is the hapless, overwrought victim of a half-crazed Stalker Celebrity! Why just yesterday, I was heinously attacked by my stalker – a famous, some might say ravishing 35 year-old actress whom I shall call, simply, 'Chloe' – at the Whole Foods supermarket quite near my cloistral apartments in Old Hollywood. Compose yourself, noble Reader, for my tale of horror and madness!

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I'm sure you've seen one or two of her films and have sensed that the girl is not a little deranged. Perhaps you've encountered her photos on the 'Worst Dressed List' in the tabloids, where she appears with some regularity. Verily I tell you, those unsettling, haute couture fashions and hairstyles can be heartstopping when you turn around in an empty supermarket aisle and there stands 'Chloe', wearing an outrageous Dolce & Gabbana printed chiffon soufflé, whimsically tattered and ill-fitting, and she's staring at you with diabolical, bedroomy, I-eat-scummy-sex-puppies- like-you-for-breakfast eyes! But I lurch, panting, ahead of myself.

The day began innocently enough. As is my wont, I was delicately plucking a single White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookie from the baker's cabinet with a thin, patisserie-grasping paper, courteously supplied by the establishment for the spotless gentleperson. Blithely turning to drop said biscuit into a little pastry bag, I was stunned by the spectre of the trendishly bedraggled ingenue, careening toward me through the epicurean aether!
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Previous week after ghastly week, it had seemed that everywhere I turned, there was 'Chloe'! Wheresoever I pushed my tiny carriage – Vegetables, Tinned Goods, Baking Accessories, Condiments – there, peripherally, a mere shelf's length away, slunk the glowering starlet, aisle after aisle, baleful, lurking, pretending to "browse the wares" – Ha! Such persons may be masters of performance, but nothing escapes M. Chariot's keen powers of the observation! No, it was perfectly clear, obvious even, that she had fixated on your humble author a fiendish infatuation!

But now, at last, the dreaded moment had come sweeping into the Bakery Section of the Whole Foods. Penned in on all sides by pastry cabinets glittering with sugary confections, I found myself trapped! There, abruptly, face-to-face, looming o'er my tiny top hat was 'Chloe', surrounded by a riot of muffins, of cakes! Spellbound by her sinister visage, I saw with frozen eyes, the full, intimidatory splendor of my crazed huntress!

In place of her hair there fell a pale, platinum blonde shroud with short, Children Of The Damned bangs. Long in back, not shiny but dull, lifeless, a damaged curtain reaching down to her knees. Tall, wraith-like, affectless, 'Chloe'! Daemonic, resplendent, suspended in a pale Imitation of Christ satin pouf minidress gathered tightly at the neck and puffed out into a large fluffy ball that stopped at the tops of her predatory, succubusial thighs, her feet adorned in brutal Louis Vuitton ankle boots with golden leather straps. Raiment of a psychopath!

Under Chloe's spellbinding gaze, all sound seemed to go out of the supermarket except for a very high-pitched note, an electronic wheeeeerrrrrr. Aeons swirled past like whorled croquants! I thought I might collapse in a swoon of surrender, a delectable buttercream impala felled by a ravenous, caramel lioness! But gathering my bedazzled wits and forcing my wobbly licorice skeleton to action, I took one panic-stricken step backward and heard the agonizing crunch of the White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookie 'neath the heel of my Prada Spectator crocodile boot. It was only then I realized that in the shock of the moment, it had fallen to the floor where it lay scattered in luscious, crumbly morsels!

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Disarranged, mad with fear and pirouetting awkwardly on the sugarslicked tiles, I spun to flee! Left and right, collapsing inexplicably, towers of stacked vendibles crashed and clattered 'round my scurrying velveteen form. Finally reaching the doors and before hurtling myself into the street, I paused to take one, horror-struck look back! (The sensitive may not wish to continue reading further.) I'm quite certain I saw 'Chloe', on her hands and knees, staring at me, picking bits of white chocolate off the floor, eyes glowing with undisguised menace!

. . . . . . . . . .

Apalled readers will be relieved to know that I have finally filed a restraining order against this madwoman, who has been stalking me at the supermarket for close to 3 years now. I am loath to sound melodramatic, but I feel the need to mention this situation, fearing that my very life may be in danger. If I stop posting for a prolonged period (over two weeks) I should like to be reported missing.

Thank you.

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aHa, Monsieur. You allow me to enter your, ahem, boudoir! At Last!

hmmm..... now I cannot recall the incredibly clever thing I wrote (over and over) yesterday. Allow me to withdraw to my chamber, where I shall ponder.
I will be watching your blog daily to make sure you have not been harmed. What has the world come to when a Gentleman like yourself is preyed upon this way?
M. Chariot, such an ordeal for a gentleman like yourself to endure! My heart raced like a great big racy thing. I salivated, then mourned, for your cookie.

Truly, you have once more transported me.
Monsieur, just because you escaped this.one.time. means not
that I won't find you. Again. I'll simply change my disguise.
For I cannot resist the gentleman who uses the thin
patisserie grabbing paper. Yes, it was THAT action which
has prompted my obsession. (And I particularly enjoy
eating cookies off the floor.) We will meet again...........
Well, DakiniDancer, I certainly sympathize with your feelings, but I do not think scaring M. Chariot into dropping his pastry is the way to his heart.
Monsieur C., please note that this would be unlikely to occur on the streets of Yonkers. but alas, you choose to live in the City of the Angels, as opposed to the San Francisco of the east coast (topographically speaking only).

Please report in frequently, because I fear for your safety.

My very best regards, mon ami.
"... her predatory, succubusial thighs"

You put the jus in the mots justes.

The image will haunt my dreams.
Ah, Monsieur, have some pity on the poor girl. What is her celebrity compared to a tip of the top hat from you! Clearly she has fallen hopelessly under your spell, a few (hundred) of us here know a little something about that! You must save her from herself. I beseech you, please start shopping at Lucky's.
its like edgar allen poe but in hollywood! LOVE it, well not the destruction of a yummy cookie but the writing in general
I would love to see of a picture of this Chloe, we should see if the store had video survalience, to help the police in catching this loony-toon
M. Chariot is back, in all his glory. Huzzah!
But Monsieur, what few of us who so adore you can fault this young waif for her obsession? Were I to encounter you in such a place, who is to say that I, too, would not succumb to the temptation to lick your broken cookie off the floor?
First, I must air some great confusion on my part. Had I taken the prescribed Percocet given after my most unpleasant oral surgery the day before ( a woman of refinement would never give more detail than that), I might believe I had hallucinated that this splendid post was on the cover yesterday. But I did not so am now questioning my memory or wondering if I'm just suddenly psychic.

As for poor doomed Chloe, really Monsieur, can you blame her? A gentleman like yourself is as rare as a perfect diamond. I can only say you should be most grateful that I don't live in L.A. or you may find two deranged menaces on your hands!
My dear Monsieur Chariot ~ I saw your great post on the cover briefly yesterday and then it was gone just as I was commenting! I thought that the celebrity stalker had also stalked OpenSalon, Kerry, Thomas and the rest of the staff when this happened. I'm glad everyone is o.k., but do continue to be wary. You know from my previous posts about you from last year that I am concerned about your whereabouts so if you should not be posting for a few weeks I'll be on the phone to the authorities in your community ASAP.
First, I must take issue with Ms. DakiniDancer for appropriating credit for this rendezvous. I have it on the authority of one very famous Hollywood psychiatrist, that I, not Ms. DD, am said Chloe in one of my 17 alternate personalities. Sir, I must apologize for my alter. I meant you no harm. Per my shrink, I simply am addicted to Macadamia Nuts and sex fiends who mascarade as spotless gentlepersons. If you spot me again, simply throw your nuts in my direction and I’ll be off in a flash.
I never thought I'd see the day when the words succubusial, ,raiment, and croquant could be knitted together in such a compelling webworks of a tale. Well done, Monseiur, to maintain your erudite composure in the face of such a sinister threat!
My dearest and most elegant ladies and gentlemen of the Open Salon ~ It has come to my attention that my essay appeared in the Activity Feed yesterday; an accident which resulted from the state of disarray incurred by my savage encounter with 'Chloe'. I meant to press "Save as Draft" but in my dishevelment pressed instead "Publish". I realized my mistake and removed it within moments, but it appears that several of you happened upon it. Please accept my sincerest apologies for any condolences and reassurances that may have been lost in the topsy-turvitude.
I too first saw this tale of derangement yesterday but managed to save the comment I had written before it was swept away.

Horrifying. Simply horrifying. My dear gentleman I sincerely hope that if you feel you are in mortal danger it may be best to flee the City of Angels and enjoy a respite from the menace that lurks amongst the bounty of Whole Foods. Perhaps northwards where you may indulge in a Walden-like sojourn, free of Prada and Luis Vuitton, but not devoid of the pleasures of a tasty eclair nor, dare I say, white chocolate macademia nut cookies.

Bon Chance
Mon Dieu, the horror! Courage, my friend. Courage.
You are well worth the price of admission. Bravo, again, and again and again.
My dearest Mlle Mack ~ I await your sweet succor from my boudoir, where I remain indisposed!

My dear Mme Walsh ~ As always I rely on the watchful eye of Our Kind Benefactress!

My dear Mme Remedie ~ So reassuring to encounter a lady with a tenderness for, er... cookies!

My dear Mlle "Dancer" ~ Your obsession sends my velveteen form into quivery convulsions of unaccountable intensity!

My dear M. Sheepdog ~ Thank you my good man for your thoughtful reassurances. A gentleman relies on his gentleman friends!

My dear M. Gallant ~ My good man, such chronicles may be a bit much for persons of a sensitive nature. Please accept my apologies for discomposing your sweet dreams!

My dear Mlle Sandstrom ~ Thank you my dear for your considered, if kindly misguided condolences. With regard to Lucky's, I have been barred from ever setting foot there again.

My dear Mlle Anne ~ Despite several hundred perfectly composed missives writ in longhand, the supermarket has incomprehensibly refused access to their surveillance cameras.
My dear M. St. Amant ~ Thank you for your rallying cheer, which served to wrest me from a sudden fainting swoon!

My dear Mme Kelly ~ I thank you for your dubious reassurances.

My dear M. Designanatoire ~ I flounder on the leash of your solicitude! Keep a tight grip, mon ami!

My dear Mlle Robinson ~ I am quite certain that your staggering submission was the result of a momentary lapse into madness! A few more electroshock treatments and you'll be good as new, my dear!

My dear M. Lawson ~ M. Chariot recommends keeping one's Macadamia nuts in a small crystal bowl on the etagere, a perfectly accessible location for the nibbling lady.

My dear Mme No Longer Miller ~ A lurid collection of preposterously mismatched words only relays the depth of my discomposure!

My dear Mlle Blonde ~ A jumbly gentleman relies on the serene benevolence of ladies of distinction!

My dear M. Procopius ~ I recover thanks to your steadying encouragements.

My dear M. Mac ~ My good man, a thousand thanks for your kind reinforcement!
Is it me, or does anyone else picture Courtney Love while reading this?

My dear, dear Monsieur...I hope you are recovering from such a harrowing experience. Your brilliance, class, and infallible fashion sense have no doubt caused the poor child to go crazy with longing. Please be careful. There will no doubt be others who cannot resist your charms.
You need to get a rottweiler for protection. That hussy is after your cookie, cookie.
I thought of Courtney right away, Lisa. Another charming, amusing missive from the Monsieur.
There are apparently no depths to which the misguided children of fortune circumstance will not descend in their relentless pursuit of endless pleasure. I'm told that in those environs all manner of disreputable transactions take place inside otherwise most innocent establishments. Perhaps the pitiful wench has confused you with her local drug dealer, though she must be in a thoroughly disoriented state to make so gross an error.
My dearest Mme Kern ~ Your sublime encouragements are like a lilting waltz to my boxed ears.

My dear Mlle Cartouche ~ Rottweiler? Ma cher, the only pet M. Chariot has ever owned was a tadpole in a teacup!

My dear Mlle Peel ~ I feel I must take this moment to absolve Mlle Love from all suspicion in this mad escapade!

My dear M. Cordle ~ The only drug M. Chariot has ever indulged is the occasional cup of Valerian tea! You'll forgive me for double-bagging the libation after yesterday's encounter!
M. Chariot ~

So many, many senses engaged...

...succubusial thighs...

...a very high-pitched note, like an electronic wheeeeerrrrrr.

...I thought I might collapse... like a delectable buttercream impala felled by a ravenous, caramel lioness!

You do know that you have substantially raised the syntax & vocabulary bars for many of us, your O_S colleagues?

We read in awe!
Such refinement as yours is an understandably strong magnet, so I agree w/those who think you’re in danger of more unwanted attention. Take care! Perhaps it’s time to bring your entourage with you on public excursions? In our city of angels, it wouldn’t be out of order.

And were it not for the fact that I believe she resides in NY, this is the picture you put in my mind of the wraith in question.
Would "call her Chloe" really refer to Ms. Sevigny? Methinks it's Tori Spelling for she is the definition of starving actress (and deservedly so). But above all else I hope not to hear it from any police report. Stay well Monsieur.
Before reading this, I never considered myself an unsuspecting gentleperson, but I must be, having never imagined such a tragic encounter as you describe here in such heartstopping detail.
Only Chloe Sevigny would wear an Imitation of Christ miniskirt as a dress... with ankle boots. Ah yes, I recognize her well by your description.

My dear M. Chariot... courage, my good man. And keep a cross handy, just in case.
Back off Betsey Robinson, if that is your real name.
'Twas I who first claimed credit. Unless, of course, I am one
of of your 17 personalities. Hmm, maybe that explains
my absence.
But I digress. M. Chariot, your quivery convulsions are
driving me quite mad. I feel I must immerse my sensuous
form into a pool of cool water so that my desires remain
under control. Oh forget that. Kiss me you fool!
Mon Dieu! I believe you barely escaped with your life!

Celebrity stalkers are everywhere out here. It's true. I had a friend who was constantly followed by some odd short man who shouted things about the 80s and a dress! It sounded very frightening.

I try to avoid taking to long to put away my groceries in the parking lots of establishments like Whole Foods and any of the Hollywood Starbucks. For there is where they dwell.
Fantastique! How can anyone resist such a Monsieur????? I am afraid you may have more than one secret admirer lurking beneath the pastries! Stay safe mon ami!
Oh my dearest Mlle Warren ~ How could M. Chariot overlook responding to such a fanciful and amorous image? Oooo-la-la-la-la-la-la!
.............................................................

My dear Madame KTM ~ As a confirmed multi-leisurist, one does what one can to fill the hours.

My dear M. Decker ~ Perhaps a cavalcade of the cultivated on supermarket outings will effect a diversion!

My dear M. Youdin ~ Brisk thanks for your suitably stern advice!

My dear Mlle Think ~ Please accept, dear Lady, my sincerest apologies for any discomposure my unthinking recountal may have caused your person!

Dearest Mme Stellaa ~ I am unglued to think that my entrance on the scene might cause more than the slightest agitation among the ladies.

My dear Mlle Chick ~ The gentleman wears his religious totems discreetly!

My dear Mlle Dancer ~ Compose yourself dearest lady!

My dear Mlle Roulette ~ Unaccompanied, a lady such as yourself should never attend venues where Stalker Celebrities might be present!
Ghastly celebrities must be stopped.
or Ghastly celebrity must be stopped, as you wish.
My dear Mme Mama ~ M. Chariot's lovelife in Hollywood is naught but a few crumbled sweets under a cabinet stuffed of patisserie!

My dear Mlles Lulu and Phoebe ~ Sadly, M. Chariot has been banned from Gelson's since the "accident".

My dear Mlle McFarland ~ Would that one should only speak it twice to make it true! Alas!
I know whoooo it waaaaas.

You, Sir, are a genius.
Monsieur:At your request I am now a picture of perfect
compositure. Until the next time I see a certain gentle
man delicately plucking a cookie from a bin using a thin
patisserie grabbing paper.
"til then.......
My dear Monsieur Chariot ~

There is none your equal on the boundless, pixelated seas of the OS.

I shall pray for your unscathed return whenever you venture forth from la petite escritoire, so we might continue to be blessed with the gifts of your unerring eye and your felicity with a well-told tale.
Quel Horrer!
p.s. If you were wearing the velvet cape which you describe in a comment on Persephone's post, I can't quite blame Chloe. Are you sure it's you she wants?? I might have to stalk you for that cape!!!

If I could eat cake whilst wearing said cape, life might be complete.
What a scary thing indeed! And I am glad you escaped with nary a scratch though I hope you were able to replace your cookie.

I simply cannot get over the fact how clever and image-filled the piece was. It seemed as I was there watching this scary thing happen.

I hope you are well enough to entertain us with more wonderful tales. I am so glad I have stumbled across your work. Each is a delicate, perfect gem.

It is simply magical...
Celestial Elf. There are no restraint orders at my shack.
Celebrity 'Chloe' knocked on my door with celery stalks.
Ah! Ahoy! At a strike of midnight, off came the nighties.
Oy! A knock from her at my door, eyes commence blink!
My pounding bosom was a torch, Ya set my heart ablaze,
Hearts are fickle, a possum change, I pang for snow lady?
Not any more. Celebrity Stalker and I smoke celery stalks.
Yesterday I was sing Frosty the Snow Lady in a laundrette.
Today I'll chew celery stalks with the aggressive a 'Chloe' ?
Boys are shy. Your You-Tube depicts it. Those round eye?
Snow Lady has no belly button, carrot, corn-cob-pipe? No.
celebrity elf? Yet, go for walks? Search for cigarettes. But?
We may find a half-smoked Pall Mall butt with lipstick, Ya!
We can share. You take a puff and then I'll puff on the butt.
It's just to be, You and Snow Lady, sitting on the road curb?
Or, Ya and me, can pucker lips? Ya ate a unripe persimmon?
We can blow round smoke rings. We can learn Tae Kwon Do.
Monsieur! I find gaping chasms in your story, most importantly when you flee Whole Foods without paying! Do not protest that you had not an item to purchase - every reasonable person knows you cannot exit Whole Foods without offering some lucre! Whole Food is commonly referred to as Paycheque Totale!
You, sir, shirked your duty to Whole Foods by neglecting your tarriff while exiting in a sudden fashion!
As for Chloe - mon dieu! She saves money on sweeping! She is a la carte, and like a clown! As she lunges for attractive customers she can also fulfill other roles, n'est pas?

RSVP - xo
Aim. What I do is buy a 6- pack of Belgium, Leffe bier.
I'll guzzle all six biers and burp seven up, Burps. Nicely.
When I reach the cashier, bottles are empty. My deposit?
Ya get coins to give the poor, and less fortunates, Hobos.
Monsieur - you are going to break so many hearts here when you reveal that Chloe is Brittany (yes that brittany). You had me at "succubusial thighs"; I mean what red-blooded male is not totally turned on by succubusial thighs?" I'm going to hang out at the local Whole Foods later and see if I can get some action too.
Oh Monsieur Chariot.....that was the "pastry drop heard 'round the World"...
We will be monitoring your site.......hold on tight to those cookies....
With shoes like those you should expect to be stalked, my friend. And holding a macadamia nut cookie, you should fair expect to be tackled.
That is truly a weird picture. Whoa.
Monsieur Chariot,
How one is able to describe an horrific encounter with such grace, wit, and wisdom is beyond me - yet you have managed to do so. You are indeed Open Salon’s maestro of anecdote.

I had an extremely similar experience of being stalked at Whole Foods...

...except my rabbit hound was 53 (not 35), dressed in a Whole Foods green apron (rather than Dolce & Gabbana), and accosted me verbally in the Bakery Section with a rude denunciation of “Sir you’re making a mess.”
Oh, the horror of it all. What a waste...
Does the 5-second rule apply in Whole Foods Hollywood?
It's 15-seconds here in Austin. Cheers!
My dearest Mlle Persephone ~ I am shocked that a gentlewoman of fashion such as yourself would know of this banshee!

My dear Mlle Dancer ~ Perhaps this is not the time to reveal that the walls of my tiny boudoir are sheathed with patisserie-grasping papers, hmmm? Tut-tut!

My dear Monsieur Lazar ~ Mon plus cher homme!

My dear Mlle Elf ~ The gentleman is encouraged by the sweet consolations of the tiny lady!

My dear Mme Lips ~ I do appreciate your concern, Mme, but your fascination with my tailleur - to say nothing of the turnovers - is a tad provocative!

My dear Monsieur G ~ Sadly my good man, the innocence with which I once held the cookie is gone, ne'er to be replaced! But I thank you for your most kind commiseration!

My dear M. James ~ Your sweet poetic divertissement does much to assuage my shattered composure!
My dear Mlle Aim ~ I do appreciate your concern that I may have failed to make suitable payment to the establishment in question. But in my haste, I left my tiny carriage and carefully selected comestibles in the Bakery section, where 'Chloe' is now vanished!

My dear M. Grif ~ I beg you my good man, be not too rash in your adventuresomeness! For the unsuspecting gentleman can encounter shocking erotic terrors, lurking in the aisles of the Whole Foods!

My dear M. Justis ~ Thank you for the warning. I have locked my cookies in the pantry and glance furtively through the curtains.

My dear M. Reid ~ Beware my good man, beware!

My dear M. Knight ~ I shudder to think what may have happened had you lingered!

My dear M. Bubba ~ The 5-second rule? I'm afraid I know nothing of this outrageous Texan protocol!
Well, I began reading this yesterday and became so upset I had to retire to my chamber to calm myself. I cannot imagine!
Now that I feel somewhat refreshed, I wonder, might I also suggest the Gelson's Market in Encino on Hayvenhurst? The bakery there is quite fine and the gentlepersons who work there are most helpful and discreet. I have seen many a Rolls Royce squired around to the back of the parking lot out of view so that a gentleman such as yourself could discreetly shop without being bothered in any manner at all. They also have beautiful orchids with which one may upon the impulse decorate teh various rooms of ones home.
My dear Mlle Freeborn ~ The gentleman thanks the lady for emerging from her reclusion to handwrite her tiny note! Ah yes, the trembling, graceful orchid! The discerning gentleperson knows the meaning, no? An exquisite gesture, dearest lady!
Aw...the crazy actress likes you. Sweet.

Let me tell you, sir...your writing is a REAL work of art. Truly poetic. You must spend some time on these pieces...
Good lord. This is horrifying. I pray that, with the help of friends, family and available pharmaceuticals, you will someday be able to put this all behind you. I know it will be a long time before you are able to have a good night's sleep. And I implore you to stay away from HBO. It is the devil's channel.
Monsieur,

I am distressed to hear of your travails! Please be heartened by my distant and useless support for your endeavors toward restraint against that ven0mous harridan who stalks you wearing her frills and fripperies.

It is my greatest hope that your macadamia was made whole again and that you returned to your digs with some nourishment.

Take heart, dear man, and know that your public adores your fervid writings!

Signed
Zumalicious
Monsieur: I swore an oath that I would end this madness that
consumes me. I have indeed remained in a composorial state.
And now I read your brief missive addressed to my august body.
How am I to respond and yet remain in aforementioned state?
My mind, and body, reel. Tut, tut, alors. Alack. Alarum.
"Blithely turning to drop said biscuit into a little pastry bag, I was stunned by the spectre of the trendishly bedraggled ingenue, careening toward me through the epicurean aether!"

Fantastic!
Yo, Tarheel! M. Chariot is a gentleman, something I am sure you cannot understand. His time spent with a lady would be leisurely and satisfying to all parties. Certainly not bending her over the kumquats at the greengrocers!

Now, this tarheel business. You should know that my mom is a proud University of Kansas alum, and that she and me and we rejoiced mightily when Kansas so soundly thrashed Roy and your Boys in the last Final Four - a game which was much closer and scarier than the score might reflect. I was Terrified we (KU) would lose. It almost seemed as though, Hey, we beat NC, we'll probably lose to Memphis in the final.

And if Memphis hadn't frozen after that last seconds' shot of regulation, they would have won.

C'est la vie!

Au voir!
Ah, Monsieur Chariot, mais c'est terrible ! Mon pauvre homme. Clairement ce Chloe est dérangé. Allez avec Dieu, monsieur
succubusial?!

Not that I want a single hair on M. Chariot's head to meet harm of any kind, but I must admit I want to thank Chloe for inspiring you to invent that adjective.
Having had more time to absorb the wonders and horrors you find at orderly Whole Foods, I can only imagine with longing what you would make of the freestyle Farmers' Market in Santa Monica. (May I commend to your consideration the ginger scones there, should they be available?)

Meanwhile you seem to be gathering a cyberharem at OS. Little can Chloe imagine the gentleladies here with whom she could never compete.
I will report you missing, dearest Chariot. And I will go further to say that I also SWEAR RIGHT HERE ...... X........(there) to avenge your honor should you face an untimely demise at the claws of the banshee.
Dearest Ladies and Gentlemen of OS ~ Thank you all for your kind observations and suggestions. I am here to report that I confronted 'Chloe' at the Whole Foods while shopping for Almas golden caviar this very afternoon (they don't carry it). Walked directly up to her, doffed my tophat and bowed deeply, introduced myself and enquired - in the plainest language possible - as to why she had been watching me for weeks... following me... sending me messages with her eyes. I cannot tell you how stunned I was when she replied that she had never seen me before and would I please stop blocking her with my little carriage! As she backed slowly away from me, I could see, with horror, she was wearing a bling-festooned, mirror and crystal-smothered Julien MacDonald evening gown, with Givenchy black lace high-heeled sandals, if that makes any difference.

I must admit to being a tad tiddly so I'm not entirely sure I approached the right blonde...?
Indeed you did approach the wrong blonde for I was no
where near Whole Foods today. You speak of being
a "tad tiddly" Perhaps that was your problem. You needed
to be a "tid taddly"
Il y a un nouveau venu s'appelle 7roses, qui m'a fait "ami-o". Maintenant, j'ai peur.

Je voulais dire pas de mauvaise volonté, seulement l'humour.

Il est peut-être trop tard.
M. Chariot, I have also had the misfortune of being stalked by the beautiful but unhinged Chloe. She came careening at me as I stood waiting for a complimentary glass of wine at a premiere held at the David Geffen Contemporary at MOCA. I fled my place in line to avoid her and she swooped in and secured the glass I sought, no doubt in order to assuage her feelings of rejection.

This woman is a menace! Shall the authorities do nothing? What has our society come to?
Well, at least you were very polite. As the others have mentioned, she was probably the wrong woman. Sadly, the real stalker is still out there.

You must tread lightly from now on...
This is my first visit to the world of Monsieur. It is astonishing, to say the least. What I find most amazing, however, is that almost every comment is written in imitation of your style. What power you wield! I look forward to succumbing to your obvious powers of persuasion!
My dears M. Tarheel, Mlle Dancer, M. Youdin, Monsieur R, Monsieur G ~ thank you all for your amusing and provocative observations! I look forward to furthering our conversations on your blogs and on future submissions here!

And my dear Mlle Joblessville ~ Thank you so very much for visiting my blog! What you observe above is nothing other than the polite conversation of thoughtful gentlemen and gentlewomen at tea time!
If the phrase 'a riot of muffins' doesn't improve your mood, there is something wrong with you.

A delightful read!
I think this is a very good way to look at things. I know I live in an area of LA where often I am at the same place as a former member of the Brady bunch. Now I know the truth. I'm being stalked!
Who would not stalk you, Monsieur Chariot? You are irresistible.

Rest assured, it is only the unhappy imposition of 1739.76 miles betwixt your fair city and mine--and the complete ignorance of your current address--that keeps me from haunting the street where you live.
If Angelina doesn't stop grabbing my junk in the tinned goods aisle Brad's gonna be pissed.
I wish to God you had a reality TV show Monsieur