I was asked to work on a project recently which had to do with a readers’ survey on current events. One of the questions was, " who you would rather have lunch with – George Bush or Paris Hilton?" My first reaction was, well you can probably guess what my first reaction was. I couldn’t choose. Just couldn’t figure out who I would pick given those two choices. I tried to imagine what it might be like. I imagined a beautiful fall afternoon in New York or D.C. The leaves blazing, warm sun and a cool breeze, a hyper-hip lunch spot, and me and my two new buds.
Hey babes! Listen, I would love to just chat for a sec about the survey results, but I am completely, like, I dunno! I just got back from lunch with George W. (Our Commander in Chic, seriously!) and Friend Paris. It was definitely cool. I wore my new Eco-Green hemp/bamboo mix trapeze dress (a big splurge for me, but I guess it takes green to be Green! Definitely!) – just doing my part for Global Warming by looking Globally Hot– but when in Rome babe, when in Rome.
Anyway, I am like so, I don’t even know! Lunch was a bust. I ordered a carrotini and side salad hold the dressing, hold the croutons, hold the lettuce, in fact just bring me a radish and make that carrotini a double. Thanks babe. The Dub (not bragging, but we so have pet names for each other. Sometimes I call him Dub Hon.) was trying to bribe the waiter to get him a chicken fry and mashed like he thought he was in Dallas and the waiter was all like, "well, we could deep fat fry you some breaded veggie-burger if we cared nothing for our immortal souls," or something and Paris would not stop. She was all like, "But George, seriously, we are facing huge issues in this country, not only with for eign affairs, but domestic as well, and if we don’t pull our heads out of the 1950's and begin to think globally.
George was trying to flag down the waiter, probably hoping to get a side of deep fried Twinkies or something and was like totally not following the conversation. I was trying to follow it, but I’d finished my first carrotini and joined Pal W. in his attempt to catch the attention of Hudini the Oblivious to bring me another but he was apparently taking a meditation break or something which was just as well since the first drink was busy blazing an organic trail to my head. Once it got there it evidently targeted all the Stupid Synapses in my brain, hurtling them into overdrive. I mean, I know it’s lame to blame the drink for a faux pas, but you’ve got to work with what you have. "Definitely Paris, if global warming continues I am never going to get a chance to wear my new sealskin mukluks and that would totally –"
"Sealskin?" Paris sneered, only by that time the Grand Poobah of the Kingdom of Wait Staff had finally graced me with his presence and I took a big swig of nuclear carrot trying to buy a little time to interpret Paris’ tone. I mean, on TV she seems like a girl who could totally appreciate a nice pair of sealskin mukluks. But what was all this social consciousness– all this political awareness? I did not get it.
I had another swig of my beta kerosene cocktail and decided I was misinterpreting her. George was no help at this point because he was on his cell trying to text Papa John’s to bring him an Anna Nicole Special – you know, something large, round, hot and loaded. So not cool. I giggled imagining what Ye Olde Imperious One would think of that!
"Yes, sealskin. They are so gorgeous. And they look perfect with my new golden lion marmoset jacket. It is perfectly tailored because the stitches are incredibly tiny – I heard they have a whole bunch of little children especially trained to sew them. Anyway, it is so perfect that it was worth the extra fee you have to pay for them to smuggle it into the country. Very cloak and dagger too! I had to drive my Hummer to the airport at midnight and meet this dude – What?"
Friend Paris actually threw her hands up, like, literally, and left in a huff. I hollered at her to text me, but who knows? I need to lay down for a minute.