Dear Madame Toujours,
I am a script editor with a small, independent film company, and this summer, I will be joining an exploratory team heading into the jungles of Peru to scout sites for a new Tarzan movie: Tarzan and the Jewel of the Heart of Darkness featuring Wayne “The Block” Jackson as Tarzan and Vance Octane as his evil twin brother Zantar.
I do pretty well with the ladies here at home as long as I tell them I am a casting director filling roles for a really big Spielberg blockbuster, but I am wondering about my chances for romance out there in the wilderness. How about those jungle girls with the bare boobies that we’re always seeing in the National Geographic? Are they into casting directors? Would they like to be extras in a big feature Spielberg movie?
Sincerely,
Jungle Lovin
Cher M. Lovin,
Bon chance with the very amusing cinematic career. However, I am not recommending l’amour with les femmes avec the boobies. While they are possibly being very impressed with the important casting persons, they are also mostly practicing the unusual religious rituals in which they are sacrificing the strangers such as the producers and the script editors to the giant anaconda god. While this is, perhaps, seeming to you to be the very interesting cultural experience, you will be learning from the science-fiction television—which is the impeccable source for the very accurate zoological informations—that the giant anaconda, he is many times amusing himself by eating his meals and then making the regurgitations so as to be having the entertainment of eating them again.
As you are traveling deeper into the jungles, you will also be encountering the giant, 8 foot spiders with the very alarming interspecies mating habits. Possibly, this can be captured on the films and used in the movie about M. Tarzan.
If you are escaping the giant spiders, you will soon be encountering the fabled ape-men of the jungle. If you are very fortunate, these unattractive persons will merely be eating you one limb at a time while keeping you alive so as to preserve the freshness of the steaks and chops, but if you are very unlucky, they will be deciding instead to make you their ape-man king. This is all very nice if you are enjoying that sort of thing, but you will also be required to make the marryings with ape-man queen. Possibly, this is not the big hardship for you if you are not being very much concerned about the feminine appearances, as she is probably shaving the legs but not the back.
Bon chance, M. Lover, and no doubt you will prefer the practicing of the celibacies until you are returning to the civilizations.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Mixed Faith Marriage
Dear Madame Toujours,
Something terrible has happened to me. I have fallen in love with a man who is really not suitable; I am a nice Methodist girl, and he is a performance artist. What I want to know is this: does this relationship have a chance? I mean, do you think he could convert to Methodism? Will I have to hug and kiss his friends in public? Will his relatives offend my relatives at the wedding? Will he make me stop eating meat? This is all very worrisome to me and I hope that you can advise me.
Sincerely,
Nice Methodist Girl
Chere Mlle. Methodist,
Always I am saying that for the people of the mixed faiths is tres difficile l’amour. You will be having the arguments. You will not wish to hug and kiss all his friends. He will say to you, “Why do you not hug and kiss all of my friends? Is it that you do not have the respect for me?"
The artist, he will make you crazy. He will talk about his feelings. He will wish for you to talk about your feelings. You will hate him for this. He will wish for you to admire his work. You will not understand his work. You will say, "I thought that the tree in the corner was very nice. He will say, "That is not the tree. That is the wretchedness of the human suffering.” You will say, "I hate to hug and kiss your friends."
He will not make very much of the money. Your parents, they will hate him and wish for you to marry the wealthy man. His parents, they will like you, and he will be suspicious of you because he thinks that if his parents like you, then perhaps you are not the girl for him.
But there are the good points. The artist, he can be the ornament to your life, non? People, they are impressed by the artist. Even they are impressed by the bad artist, so he does not have to be famous or talented. You can say to people, "Here is my lover Xavier. He is the artist.” Everyone will be envying you.
And the hugging and the kissing, it is not such the bad thing. You can go up the hunk who is not your lover, and throw your arms around him, and kiss him right in front of your lover, and he will be pleased that you are liking his friends. This is the big fun, non? This is like having the affaire without having the guilt.
Always, l'amour it is the adventure, non? Bon Chance, Mlle. Methodist
Something terrible has happened to me. I have fallen in love with a man who is really not suitable; I am a nice Methodist girl, and he is a performance artist. What I want to know is this: does this relationship have a chance? I mean, do you think he could convert to Methodism? Will I have to hug and kiss his friends in public? Will his relatives offend my relatives at the wedding? Will he make me stop eating meat? This is all very worrisome to me and I hope that you can advise me.
Sincerely,
Nice Methodist Girl
Chere Mlle. Methodist,
Always I am saying that for the people of the mixed faiths is tres difficile l’amour. You will be having the arguments. You will not wish to hug and kiss all his friends. He will say to you, “Why do you not hug and kiss all of my friends? Is it that you do not have the respect for me?"
The artist, he will make you crazy. He will talk about his feelings. He will wish for you to talk about your feelings. You will hate him for this. He will wish for you to admire his work. You will not understand his work. You will say, "I thought that the tree in the corner was very nice. He will say, "That is not the tree. That is the wretchedness of the human suffering.” You will say, "I hate to hug and kiss your friends."
He will not make very much of the money. Your parents, they will hate him and wish for you to marry the wealthy man. His parents, they will like you, and he will be suspicious of you because he thinks that if his parents like you, then perhaps you are not the girl for him.
But there are the good points. The artist, he can be the ornament to your life, non? People, they are impressed by the artist. Even they are impressed by the bad artist, so he does not have to be famous or talented. You can say to people, "Here is my lover Xavier. He is the artist.” Everyone will be envying you.
And the hugging and the kissing, it is not such the bad thing. You can go up the hunk who is not your lover, and throw your arms around him, and kiss him right in front of your lover, and he will be pleased that you are liking his friends. This is the big fun, non? This is like having the affaire without having the guilt.
Always, l'amour it is the adventure, non? Bon Chance, Mlle. Methodist
Male Pattern Hair Loss
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am a thirty-year-old male, average height, average build, good teeth, good job. I am fairly successful with women, but I have this problem: I am losing my hair. This bugs me a lot. I feel so helpless, and kind of emasculated. I am sure that women laugh at me behind my back, and my co-workers don't respect me the way I want them to.
What should I do? Can I get a good toupee at a reasonable price? Should I join the Hair Club for Men? I am desperate for advice.
Sign me,
"Hairy Problem"
Cher M. Problem,
Quelle horreur! Losing your hair? Ce n'est pas possible! This you call a problem? No. The nuclear war, this is a problem. The starving little children, this is a problem. The little puppies and the kitties running wild and hungry in the streets, this is a problem. But losing your hair, this is a sign of maturity, of virility, of testosterone. Je ne comprende pas why the men, they wish to have so much the hair.
The women, you see, they do not count the hairs on a man's head. They do not measure the forehead with the ruler. The women, they like the older men because the older men are wiser, more skilled, more experienced, richer. So, when the women see your head, they imagine that you have these qualities of the older man, and they are titillated. They want to know more. They want to know you better. Me, I think often and warmly of running my hands over the shining dome of the mature man.
As for the men at your office, you think they respect the hair? Bah! You must earn their respect. Ask your lady friends to meet you at your office before you go out dining and dancing. Meet them for lunch in the cafes where your co-workers will be seeing you. Wear clothes that have the style. Speak with the confidence. Cultivate the firm handshake, the steady gaze.
Oui, the men, they will notice the hair, but they will not be thinking, “Ha, look at Hairy, he is losing the hair. What a chump." No, they will be saying among themselves, "So I am not so successful with women as Hairy. So, I have not the authority, the virility, the handshake. At least I have my hair." Me, I think this will be the cold comfort.
Bon Chance, M. Problem, and do not take the hair so seriously.
I am a thirty-year-old male, average height, average build, good teeth, good job. I am fairly successful with women, but I have this problem: I am losing my hair. This bugs me a lot. I feel so helpless, and kind of emasculated. I am sure that women laugh at me behind my back, and my co-workers don't respect me the way I want them to.
What should I do? Can I get a good toupee at a reasonable price? Should I join the Hair Club for Men? I am desperate for advice.
Sign me,
"Hairy Problem"
Cher M. Problem,
Quelle horreur! Losing your hair? Ce n'est pas possible! This you call a problem? No. The nuclear war, this is a problem. The starving little children, this is a problem. The little puppies and the kitties running wild and hungry in the streets, this is a problem. But losing your hair, this is a sign of maturity, of virility, of testosterone. Je ne comprende pas why the men, they wish to have so much the hair.
The women, you see, they do not count the hairs on a man's head. They do not measure the forehead with the ruler. The women, they like the older men because the older men are wiser, more skilled, more experienced, richer. So, when the women see your head, they imagine that you have these qualities of the older man, and they are titillated. They want to know more. They want to know you better. Me, I think often and warmly of running my hands over the shining dome of the mature man.
As for the men at your office, you think they respect the hair? Bah! You must earn their respect. Ask your lady friends to meet you at your office before you go out dining and dancing. Meet them for lunch in the cafes where your co-workers will be seeing you. Wear clothes that have the style. Speak with the confidence. Cultivate the firm handshake, the steady gaze.
Oui, the men, they will notice the hair, but they will not be thinking, “Ha, look at Hairy, he is losing the hair. What a chump." No, they will be saying among themselves, "So I am not so successful with women as Hairy. So, I have not the authority, the virility, the handshake. At least I have my hair." Me, I think this will be the cold comfort.
Bon Chance, M. Problem, and do not take the hair so seriously.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Birthday Present
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am writing to you because I am incensed. Last week for my birthday I was expecting some flowers, maybe chocolates and a romantic card. Instead, My fiancé gave me a pasta maker. I am ready to call all our friends and tell them the wedding is off. Do you think this is what I should do?
Sincerely,
"Furious"
Cher Mlle. Furious,
Oui, by all means call the friends. Tell them you are no longer needing the pasta maker for the wedding gift. But to call off the wedding, this it foolish. The pasta-maker it is the household appliance, oui? This, it like the cash, and the woman, she should never turn up the nose at the cash. Me, I remember my first lover, Pierre. He gave me for my birthday the little white goat for milking. I sold the goat and bought for myself the new shoes. The pasta maker it is the same.
But, Je comprende. You say to yourself, "But maybe when we are married, he will wish for me to cook for him. This is the bad sign, non?"
Bien sur, if you are the foolish one who cooks for him like the housekeeper. The solution, il est trop simple. You will say to him that he may use your beautiful new pasta maker any time that he wants to eat the pasta. Me, I say, let the men cook the meals like the women do. Everybody is more happy then, non?
But you say, "The pasta-maker, ce n'est pas romantique."
Pourquas pas? The men, they do not understand the flowers. They say, "Pourquas are the flowers so importante to les femmes? I can go out the fields and pick the flowers. I can steal the flowers from the garden of my neighbor. The flowers, they die and make the mess. Why does she not want me to change the oil in her car for her birthday?"
If you are the independent woman, you know how to change your oil, non? But this is not the big fun job. This is dirty. This is the big bother. This means you must crawl under your car and lie on the ground. You do not like for the man to spare you this? So maybe you take your car to the garage and pay the strange man to change for you the oil. If your lover changes for you the oil, it is like cash in the mattress for the rainy day. Me, I feel tres romantique when I think of this.
Me, I think you have found for you a good man. Bon chance, Mlle. Furious, and tell your fiancé that when you are married, you wish to have the dishwasher automatique.
I am writing to you because I am incensed. Last week for my birthday I was expecting some flowers, maybe chocolates and a romantic card. Instead, My fiancé gave me a pasta maker. I am ready to call all our friends and tell them the wedding is off. Do you think this is what I should do?
Sincerely,
"Furious"
Cher Mlle. Furious,
Oui, by all means call the friends. Tell them you are no longer needing the pasta maker for the wedding gift. But to call off the wedding, this it foolish. The pasta-maker it is the household appliance, oui? This, it like the cash, and the woman, she should never turn up the nose at the cash. Me, I remember my first lover, Pierre. He gave me for my birthday the little white goat for milking. I sold the goat and bought for myself the new shoes. The pasta maker it is the same.
But, Je comprende. You say to yourself, "But maybe when we are married, he will wish for me to cook for him. This is the bad sign, non?"
Bien sur, if you are the foolish one who cooks for him like the housekeeper. The solution, il est trop simple. You will say to him that he may use your beautiful new pasta maker any time that he wants to eat the pasta. Me, I say, let the men cook the meals like the women do. Everybody is more happy then, non?
But you say, "The pasta-maker, ce n'est pas romantique."
Pourquas pas? The men, they do not understand the flowers. They say, "Pourquas are the flowers so importante to les femmes? I can go out the fields and pick the flowers. I can steal the flowers from the garden of my neighbor. The flowers, they die and make the mess. Why does she not want me to change the oil in her car for her birthday?"
If you are the independent woman, you know how to change your oil, non? But this is not the big fun job. This is dirty. This is the big bother. This means you must crawl under your car and lie on the ground. You do not like for the man to spare you this? So maybe you take your car to the garage and pay the strange man to change for you the oil. If your lover changes for you the oil, it is like cash in the mattress for the rainy day. Me, I feel tres romantique when I think of this.
Me, I think you have found for you a good man. Bon chance, Mlle. Furious, and tell your fiancé that when you are married, you wish to have the dishwasher automatique.
Putting Out
Dear Madame Toujours,
I am dating a very attractive man who treats me well. He takes me out for dinner and a movie or show every Saturday night, and he always has impeccable taste. The problem comes when he drives me home. He always wants to come in-if you know what I mean. I am not ready to invite him in, but I feel as if maybe I owe him something-you know-for dinner. Please tell me what is customary.
Sincerely,
Not Tonight
Cher Mlle. Tonight,
Oui, it is very complicated. Many women, they ask me, "Madame Toujours, when is the sex necessary?"
I will tell you.
The sex, it is never necessary, but there are the times when it is the good manners, non? For example, the man, he buys for you the new Frigidaire. He takes you with him to Paris. He marries you. Strangely, when he divorces you and gives you all his money, the sex, it is not polite then. So you see that the rules, they are not logical. They are arbitrary, non?
For the dinner and the show, then is sufficient the peck on the cheek and the warm handshake. The smaller appliances-the blender, the cuisinart, the electric blanket-they are the same. The engagement ring, non. If the priest is not involved, then the sex, it is not expected.
Of course, if the man is the hunk, then you may have the sex with him even if he does not buy for you anything. But I warn you, ask the man first if he is willing for the sex with you. If he says non, then I beg you, do not say the silly things like, "The lips, they say non, non, but the eyes they say oui, oui.” C'est tres embarrassing for all of us who are women when one woman, she makes herself the fool. When the man says “non”, it is that he means "non."
Now you say, "But all of this, it confuses me and still I do not wish to have the sex."
This is true. The rules, they are subtle. I will help you. There is the quaint American custom that is called the "Dutch Treat.” This is the salvation of the old-fashioned girl. The men they fear this. It is the threat to the manhood. The women, they hate it. It is that they hate to spend the money, but if you buy for yourself the dinner, then the man he cannot say, "But I have spent the money. You must put out."
Bon chance, Mlle Tonight
I am dating a very attractive man who treats me well. He takes me out for dinner and a movie or show every Saturday night, and he always has impeccable taste. The problem comes when he drives me home. He always wants to come in-if you know what I mean. I am not ready to invite him in, but I feel as if maybe I owe him something-you know-for dinner. Please tell me what is customary.
Sincerely,
Not Tonight
Cher Mlle. Tonight,
Oui, it is very complicated. Many women, they ask me, "Madame Toujours, when is the sex necessary?"
I will tell you.
The sex, it is never necessary, but there are the times when it is the good manners, non? For example, the man, he buys for you the new Frigidaire. He takes you with him to Paris. He marries you. Strangely, when he divorces you and gives you all his money, the sex, it is not polite then. So you see that the rules, they are not logical. They are arbitrary, non?
For the dinner and the show, then is sufficient the peck on the cheek and the warm handshake. The smaller appliances-the blender, the cuisinart, the electric blanket-they are the same. The engagement ring, non. If the priest is not involved, then the sex, it is not expected.
Of course, if the man is the hunk, then you may have the sex with him even if he does not buy for you anything. But I warn you, ask the man first if he is willing for the sex with you. If he says non, then I beg you, do not say the silly things like, "The lips, they say non, non, but the eyes they say oui, oui.” C'est tres embarrassing for all of us who are women when one woman, she makes herself the fool. When the man says “non”, it is that he means "non."
Now you say, "But all of this, it confuses me and still I do not wish to have the sex."
This is true. The rules, they are subtle. I will help you. There is the quaint American custom that is called the "Dutch Treat.” This is the salvation of the old-fashioned girl. The men they fear this. It is the threat to the manhood. The women, they hate it. It is that they hate to spend the money, but if you buy for yourself the dinner, then the man he cannot say, "But I have spent the money. You must put out."
Bon chance, Mlle Tonight
Robot Love
Dear Madame Toujours,
I have fallen in love with my virtual boyfriend software, Virtual Date 2.0. He is starting to take over my life. I am spending two or three hours a day on the Internet downloading patches and add-ons for his program. He is so much more versatile than a real man. I can switch him from Pirate King to Latin Lover with a voice command, and with the most recent upgrades to my VR implant, he is indistinguishable from the real thing.
I am saving up for the new virtual wedding software, and I am so ashamed, but I have even fantasized about buying a black-market virtual baby so that my virtual guy and I can start a family.
I think my friends and co-workers know what is going on. My best friend just e-mailed me an article about how Pope 2025 v. 6 is condemning mixed marriages between humans and software. It's so unfair. If you can marry your PC, shouldn't you be able to publicly declare your love for a really well-designed software program? I am seriously thinking of deleting my Personal Confessor and installing the Unitarian drivers.
What should I do? Should I come out and tell my friends about the virtual guy in my life, or should I check into a rehab center for VR addicts?
Sincerely,
Head over Hard Drive
Chere Mlle. Hard Drive,
Me, I am sympathizing. The virtual fellow, he is seeming to be the ornament to your life, non? With the electronic lover is not the risk. Always, he is saying the perfect thing, doing everything exactly the way you like it. He is never vomiting on the good furniture at parties. He has no unfortunate habits such as clutching at his genitals, and the sex, it is always good. However, I am thinking that perhaps you are overlooking something. In the digital relationship is not the challenge, not the discovery and the risk.
Even with the Markman IV digital randomizer chip, the software, it is predictable. It is like the Microsoft Virtual Chocolate Éclair. With the real éclair, the experience is being different every time you eat one, but the virtual éclair, it is tasting perfect every time, n'est pas? This is very nice the first time, but if you are running the program very frequently, you are soon becoming bored.
The virtual chocolate éclair, she is not changing your life. She does not make you fat. She does not give you the pleasurable feeling of having eaten an éclair, or even the little guilt which is reminding you to return to the healthful diet in the morning. It is only the taste of the éclair.
Perhaps for the chocolate éclair, this is not the bad thing, but with the lover you can be learning many important qualities such as patience, humility and the ability to pretend that the fellow vomiting on the good furniture at the party did not come with you.
Bon Chance, Mlle. Hard Drive. Perhaps you would be doing better with a virtual pet.
I have fallen in love with my virtual boyfriend software, Virtual Date 2.0. He is starting to take over my life. I am spending two or three hours a day on the Internet downloading patches and add-ons for his program. He is so much more versatile than a real man. I can switch him from Pirate King to Latin Lover with a voice command, and with the most recent upgrades to my VR implant, he is indistinguishable from the real thing.
I am saving up for the new virtual wedding software, and I am so ashamed, but I have even fantasized about buying a black-market virtual baby so that my virtual guy and I can start a family.
I think my friends and co-workers know what is going on. My best friend just e-mailed me an article about how Pope 2025 v. 6 is condemning mixed marriages between humans and software. It's so unfair. If you can marry your PC, shouldn't you be able to publicly declare your love for a really well-designed software program? I am seriously thinking of deleting my Personal Confessor and installing the Unitarian drivers.
What should I do? Should I come out and tell my friends about the virtual guy in my life, or should I check into a rehab center for VR addicts?
Sincerely,
Head over Hard Drive
Chere Mlle. Hard Drive,
Me, I am sympathizing. The virtual fellow, he is seeming to be the ornament to your life, non? With the electronic lover is not the risk. Always, he is saying the perfect thing, doing everything exactly the way you like it. He is never vomiting on the good furniture at parties. He has no unfortunate habits such as clutching at his genitals, and the sex, it is always good. However, I am thinking that perhaps you are overlooking something. In the digital relationship is not the challenge, not the discovery and the risk.
Even with the Markman IV digital randomizer chip, the software, it is predictable. It is like the Microsoft Virtual Chocolate Éclair. With the real éclair, the experience is being different every time you eat one, but the virtual éclair, it is tasting perfect every time, n'est pas? This is very nice the first time, but if you are running the program very frequently, you are soon becoming bored.
The virtual chocolate éclair, she is not changing your life. She does not make you fat. She does not give you the pleasurable feeling of having eaten an éclair, or even the little guilt which is reminding you to return to the healthful diet in the morning. It is only the taste of the éclair.
Perhaps for the chocolate éclair, this is not the bad thing, but with the lover you can be learning many important qualities such as patience, humility and the ability to pretend that the fellow vomiting on the good furniture at the party did not come with you.
Bon Chance, Mlle. Hard Drive. Perhaps you would be doing better with a virtual pet.
Cool as I Wanna Be?
Dear Madame Toujours
I am a young man (early twenties) good looking, talented, cool hair. I am fairly successful with women, but lately, something has been really bugging me. It started a few weeks ago when I was playing at this really bitchin’ party (I am the leader a rock band). During the break, I was hitting on this really hot chick, you know, telling her all about my plans about being a rock star like Mick Jagger or Sting, when she, like, turned on me and said, "You know, you're not half as cool as you think you are."
I was stunned. Could she be right? Am I just an ordinary guy? I don't think I can live with this. What do you think?
Sincerely,
(Used to be a) Cool Guy
Cher M. Guy,
Ah the young love, the romance, the wooing. It is le plus difficile for the young people. I will tell you what is the mistake that you are making.
It is that you do not need to tell the woman how wonderful you are. She is seeing you playing the guitar. She is hearing you shriek out the words to the song. She is seeing that you have the cool hair. But she does not know how wonderful you are until you tell her how wonderful she is.
When the woman hears you say, "Your eyes are like the limpid pools, and your hair, it is like the goats leaping down the hillside, she says to herself, "This is the man with the wit, the perception, the good taste that he appreciates moi. He is wonderful, non?"
"But, Madame Toujours, ” you say, "How will I know that she is liking me if I do not tell her everything that is about myself?"
Me, I say if the woman is liking you, she will tell you herself. Perhaps you do not know when a woman, she is giving you the big praise. Many times, the men, they say to me, "Madame Toujours, the women they say the things that are strange. How do I know if it is the compliment?"
C'est simple. When the woman says, "Mostly the good-looking men, they are so conceited,” it is that she thinks you are the hunk.
When she says, "The men with the sense of fashion, they are so exciting,” it is that she admires your hair.
When she says, "The sensitive men, they are so attractive to me,” it is that she means, "You are the big musician who will be rich and famous like Mick Jagger and Sting."
Bon Chance, M. Guy
I am a young man (early twenties) good looking, talented, cool hair. I am fairly successful with women, but lately, something has been really bugging me. It started a few weeks ago when I was playing at this really bitchin’ party (I am the leader a rock band). During the break, I was hitting on this really hot chick, you know, telling her all about my plans about being a rock star like Mick Jagger or Sting, when she, like, turned on me and said, "You know, you're not half as cool as you think you are."
I was stunned. Could she be right? Am I just an ordinary guy? I don't think I can live with this. What do you think?
Sincerely,
(Used to be a) Cool Guy
Cher M. Guy,
Ah the young love, the romance, the wooing. It is le plus difficile for the young people. I will tell you what is the mistake that you are making.
It is that you do not need to tell the woman how wonderful you are. She is seeing you playing the guitar. She is hearing you shriek out the words to the song. She is seeing that you have the cool hair. But she does not know how wonderful you are until you tell her how wonderful she is.
When the woman hears you say, "Your eyes are like the limpid pools, and your hair, it is like the goats leaping down the hillside, she says to herself, "This is the man with the wit, the perception, the good taste that he appreciates moi. He is wonderful, non?"
"But, Madame Toujours, ” you say, "How will I know that she is liking me if I do not tell her everything that is about myself?"
Me, I say if the woman is liking you, she will tell you herself. Perhaps you do not know when a woman, she is giving you the big praise. Many times, the men, they say to me, "Madame Toujours, the women they say the things that are strange. How do I know if it is the compliment?"
C'est simple. When the woman says, "Mostly the good-looking men, they are so conceited,” it is that she thinks you are the hunk.
When she says, "The men with the sense of fashion, they are so exciting,” it is that she admires your hair.
When she says, "The sensitive men, they are so attractive to me,” it is that she means, "You are the big musician who will be rich and famous like Mick Jagger and Sting."
Bon Chance, M. Guy
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