In Praise of the Whip

I'm off to see the Wizard....Or, loan me your broomstick

2007-03-03T21:44:05Z

I really cannot understand the fuss over Anna Nicole Smith. The woman was a train wreak, and my God, anyone with the bad taste to be buried in a pink satin covered coffin should have to decency to do so quietly. I admit to prejudices – we all have them, I prefer to be honest about them. And I think Americans do have a certain monopoly on tackiness, clearly shown by such celebrities as Anna Nicole, Britney Spears, and Paris Hilton. On the other hand, our royal celebrities are merely stupid. Not sure which is better.

Now that I have that slight crankiness out of my system, I have to say I had the most marvelous time in New York, thanks especially to my Nicci. (BTW, we did remember to call the concierge to go untie that delicious boy toy, didn’t we?) Plaza room service was also appreciated. The seedier side of life is always better with clean sheets and efficient indoor plumbing.

Am now on my way back to Europe – certainly to stop in at home, possibly to then visit Colin in Belgium. Is your invitation still good, my Irish stallion? Do let me know.

I hear the porter knocking, so I must end and finish packing. Love to all.

Do I Really Mean This?

2007-02-11T17:37:02Z

I’m certainly not one of those who plan to use this journal as a sort of public confessional, but I am capable of some sort of introversion on occasion. Such as the fact that most of what I have gotten in life I have done nothing to deserve. Except be born with a certain amount of looks and a great deal of luck.

After all, I am not a great actress – probably not even a very good one. I’ve dabbled at it because it was amusing. Just like modeling. Marriage and divorce from Carmine has left me quite wealthy, so I need never work again if I don’t want to.

So, do I feel guilty about my good fortune? No – or at least I refuse to. After all, if I had had bad luck, would I have felt guilty about that? Decidedly not. Am I grateful? Probably not enough – a certain amount of thoughtlessness lubricates one’s glide through life, or so I’ve always believed. And my philosophical moments do have their limits, after all, and tend to center on pleasure and sensuality, not the justice of the universe.

I will admit that my interest in artists may be tinged with a bit of envy – my creativity seems to be limited to making scenes to get my way and in sexual role playing, nothing profound or deeply meaningful. Oh dear – does that betray a desire to be profound? That would be a lost cause indeed, and an utter waste of time, on my part.

Hum…I think I better quit before I say anything else I might regret.

Hello there, stranger

2007-02-10T04:10:46Z

I've returned from my visit to George in the Carolinas - which I may or may not discuss at a later point. Anyway, I've been trying to catch up a bit on all that has been going on here and decided to somewhat randomly to friend several people who seemed to tickle my fancy. I may not have said hello yet to you, do forgive my impertinence, but you are certainly free to ignore me if you wish (though I am hard to ignore, I do warn you).

As for those I've already chatted with - do say hello, I've missed you all.

Cheers.

P.S. Nicci I am coming soon to visit you, I promise.

Err, what are Chitlins?

2007-01-31T02:31:03Z

So, I am going to visit George Clooney in the Carolinas - God knows what sort of place it is. I have been promised a fantastic time; I can only hope the gentleman in question keeps his promise. I fully intend to prove myself a marvelous guest, so there Mr. Clooney. I've even found a lovely present for you as my host - I may be a brat, but I do have manners. I must say it all feels like an adventure to some backward country. Pity it isn't New Orleans - though after Katrina it may not be as interesting, but all that dark voodoo glamour is rather mesmerizing. Charleston sounds rather historic and stuffy. Still, I'm sure we can liven it up. Besides, if it is a boor, I can visit you sweet Nicci that much sooner. Which reminds me, have you gotten my present yet? I did send it overnight express. So now, back to my packing. La la la.....

Note to Mr. Clooney

2007-01-31T02:11:13Z

Here is my flight information:
Air France 8560 - supposed arrival time is 9:55PM.

I know of your penchant for practical jokes - you better not be playing one on me or I'll sic Nicci on you. And you still haven't answered affirmative to the availability of French Champagne, orgasmic chocolate or indoor plumbing in these Carolinas. I am taking a lot on faith, you know. Still, I adore living dangerously.

Joie de Vivre

2007-01-27T16:58:21Z

I love Paris. I love shopping. Put the two together, and voila, my idea of heaven. Thus spent yesterday in a whirlwind of activity, though not necessarily where one might think. Of course I checked out the new spring clothes. Chanel had some lovely outfits that for once didn't require one to be 6 feet tall to look good in. Couldn't resist some of those fringed dresses.

Also had to go to the flea markets and my favorite bookstore as well. Speaking of which, there was a seedy little man I caught watching me at the bookstore - I made him waddle all over the store in my wake. I swear he perked up when he saw me go to the section on Erotica - as if he would be the recipient of my expertise in that area, and was about to approach me when Serge showed up. We were supposed to go out to dinner, but I was so exhausted that we decided to stay in - not a hardship at the George V. We ordered champagne and lots of lovely food, and watched a porno movie. Tried to imitate the action, but we were laughing too hard to be completely successful, I'm afraid. But it was fun trying.

No Fear of Flying - Thank You Erica Jong

2007-01-26T04:14:22Z

There are few times that I am grateful for being short, but being trapped over 12 hours in a plane, even first class, is one of those times. And yes, aren't I the spoiled one, complaining about being "trapped" as I fly first class from Saigon to Paris - not that I'm apologizing for said self-indulgence. After all, if one isn't clear about one's desires, how on earth is one to get them? Certainly can't depend on men for that. Does make one wonder - I mean, men have gone all over the planet discovering whatever, and yet a woman's clitoris is still undiscovered territory to so many of them. Very odd.

Meanwhile some constipated horse-faced woman is giving me a strange look across the aisle after glancing at my reading material. Does she even know who the Marquis de Sade is? I'm tempted to tell her not to worry, she's not my type. Well, I do have several hours inside this metal shell to toy with her. Amongst other pleasures I'm sure I can find. One does what one can, after all. Mile high and still flying.