Group Info Name: Sandrine! Put that croquet mallet down!
Type: Common Interest - Wine
Description: Lacking the necessary requirements for her own Facebook account, Sandrine threatened to smash my laptop in with her mallet unless I did this for her. So I did. And she smashed it anyway. Fucking bitch.
Sandrine is an imaginary friend that a group of us share, inspired by a 70s picture we found in the basement of my house. She has been the source of much amusement recently.
Why we've only gone and given Sandrine her own bio. :p
“I won’t be a nobody. I won’t.” Sandrine’s face grimaced as she posed for a photograph, Lolita positioned directly before her, the nine-year-old girl stealing the limelight as she did in every single black and white photograph that was taken. Sandrine was sick of it. For twenty-six years she had been pushed to the sidelines, neglected whilst everyone else in the family had their chance to shine. Now it was her time to shine. She would show them. She would show them all. Haughtily tossing her trestles over her shoulder, she posed for the photograph and left the room the instant it was taken, a glimmer of hope for the future worn within her tired eyes
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Group Info Name: Sandrine! Put that croquet mallet down!
Type: Common Interest - Wine
Description: Lacking the necessary requirements for her own Facebook account, Sandrine threatened to smash my laptop in with her mallet unless I did this for her. So I did. And she smashed it anyway. Fucking bitch.
Sandrine is an imaginary friend that a group of us share, inspired by a 70s picture we found in the basement of my house. She has been the source of much amusement recently.
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“I won’t be a nobody. I won’t.” Sandrine’s face grimaced as she posed for a photograph, Lolita positioned directly before her, the nine-year-old girl stealing the limelight as she did in every single black and white photograph that was taken. Sandrine was sick of it. For twenty-six years she had been pushed to the sidelines, neglected whilst everyone else in the family had their chance to shine. Now it was her time to shine. She would show them. She would show them all. Haughtily tossing her trestles over her shoulder, she posed for the photograph and left the room the instant it was taken, a glimmer of hope for the future worn within her tired eyes ( ... )
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