Hello mes cheries,
Well this week I find myself in The Big Easy. No I do not mean Lindsey Lohan; I won't make that mistake again.
New Orleans!
That's right, for the past two months I have been here in NOLA as some of the more local folks call it, and it has been a whirlwind tour of fun and debauchery.
How did I wind up here? Well, I'll tell you. It all started with a call from Kate Moss. And no, she was not sniffling AT ALL during the call. Apparently, a lover I once shared with her and Camilla Parker Bowles (not at the same time, mind you) had passed to greener pastures. What greener pastures I could imagine than this particular Comte's villa in Biarritz is irrelevant, but she was inviting me to the fete that was to mark his passing.
As you know, things are not as they once were for Miss Gina, so I had to bow out, but I knew I must do something to celebrate at the same time as these intrepid mourners. Then it hit me! There are some very French cities right here in good old North America, and I could easily get to one of them on a more modest budget than crossing the pond to meet Camilla at Sandringham. You'd think she's offer to send a plane for me, but me thinks she wants to keep me away from Charles, in much the same way Queen Bessie keeps me from Philip.
Obviously, one thinks French and North America and immediately one is drawn to either Quebec or Montreal. But after that unfortunate incident with a certain Hilton sister at the duty-free shop at an airport up Canada way, I think it wiser not to re-enter our neighbors to the north for at least another year. That walking room rental has her own fragrance now, and she will not admit to this day that she stole it from me. There was some hair pulling, and I admit I ripped her Swarovski studded thong off when attempting a wedgie. That started a whole new sensation once she got out of her car at Nobu. The worst part is that every skank who can afford her Walgreen's price point smells like me! But I digress.
So, in my efforts to keep the economy of our homeland strong, I managed to find a US Airways flight to New Orleans!
I was pleased that while I could not spring for first class (I just could not figure out how to do that on priceline.com), they had a whole section of the plane named for my favorite leather crafter and purse manufacturer, Coach. I was sadly mistaken. The only Coach I found in this section was the unfortunately mannish woman sitting next to me in something called a bulkead. Now to me, bulkhead sounds like some sort of shark that Johnny Depp once wrangled away from me in more halcyon days, but apparently it is a row of seats in the back of the plane. I learn so many new things each day! Oh the lives you people have led while I was in the front of the plane.....
Stay tuned for more of my NOLA adventures!
