After the tea parlor business went under, Lady Mendl was forced to work in Mr. Diapers’ factory where she spent twelve hours a day placing facsimiles of his company credo (If ye butthole’s looking fine, Ne’er Ye Mind! If ye is working for me, ye have the right to pee!) into sequined frames, which drove her to dipsomania and despair in equal parts.
Lady Mendl still had the dipsomania-induced nightmares, all starting with her daring near-escape from her tea cage, then being caught by her mother-in-law, Muffy Mendl, and eventually forced into hours of teahouse administrative work, sending facsimiles, going on coffee runs, and refilling printer paper.
Lady Mendl outwardly blamed her dipsomania, but inside she had to admit that it was probably her amazing sense of humor, and not the twenty-four rum and cokes she drank, that made her send a facsimile of her butt to the Oval Office.
Surely it was either a great blessing or the most ominous of curses; meeting Shardonay, my near facsimile, a champion of dipsomania and short-shorts, an almost utterly shameless individual with irresistable hedonistic tendoncies.