Wednesday, August 31, 2005
As an Empress, I've had many chances to rub shoulders with high government officials at formal dinners, so the opportunity to "kick-it casual-style" with the president was one I wasn't about to pass up! I have to tell you...factoring in all the laughter (admittedly, I laughed more at him than with him) and tears (mostly tears), it was a vacation I'll never forget!
Here's the journal I kept over the last week:
I'm so excited to head to Crawford, TX today! I'm a little perplexed and upset that GW didn't send Air Force One to pick me up. You invite me, but don't provide top-notch transportation...curious. So, I'm writing this from a cage in the cargo area of a commercial flight (even my celebrity status couldn't prompt the airline to make an exception). I want to make something really clear. If I hear anyone ever complain about flying coach, I think I'll scratch their eyes out! "Caged in cargo" trumps coach any day!
Despite my travel arrangements, I'm pretty jazzed to get a vacation from the strain of lying around at home! GW seemed really excited for my visit. He seems to have a week of fun planned for me. More later, dear diary...more later.
As I approached the ranch yesterday, I was pretty thrilled to see my fans camped out, chanting for me. It appeared they were holding "Welcome Kukka" banners, but it wasn't until the limo got closer, that I realized they weren't shouting for me...they were war protesters. I hope this doesn't continue throughout my entire vacation! I mean, do they honestly expect the leader of the free world to be accountable for his mista...I mean decisions...24 hours a day? Even when he's on vacation? I get that they are upset about the lives lost in a pointless war, but can't we agree that even the president deserves some peace and quiet to "detox" from the stress of the daily grind? PEOPLE, please! Take your banners, crosses, flowers and tears home! You can't expect me to enjoy lounging by the pool when I have to listen to your weeping.
On a side note: Condi Rice is a bitch. She put up quite the front this morning at breakfast--asking how my flight was and spewing other false pleasantries, but I could see her eyeballing me with contempt while she sipped her mimosa. I can't decide whether or not I'll leave visible scratch marks on her face or if I'll passive-aggressively bare-ass her arm when she's not looking. It's a toss-up, really. While it would be great hearing her explain away the scratches to the press corps, knowing she has feline fecal matter smeared on her skin would be fantastic, too. I don't have to decide right now. We'll see how everything progresses.
Karl Rove visited today. If he tries to play "grab-ass" with me one more time, I am going to scream! Can anyone please remind me what the legal precedent is for castrating in self-defense? I'm just curious.
I went fishing this morning. Well, I guess by "fishing," I mean, George and his posse pulled fish into the boat, using poles and nets...I ate them directly out of the basket. Fortunately, GW isn't very good at math and didn't notice the fish deficit at the end of the excursion.
Went square dancing tonight...George and Laura's passion. Of course, I didn't have anything appropriate to wear, so I had to borrow some threads. You'll have to check out the US Weekly's Worst Dressed list for a photo...I refuse to post one here.
While it wasn't the best experience, I have to give Dubya props for being so flexible! He was whipping Laura around that floor like nobody's business! You know I hate to be critical, but I think she could have used a bit more ruffle under her skirt. Who would have known the leader of the free world could cut such a mean rug?! I actually had fun tonight! That is, until George took a turn at the caller's microphone with a hearty, "Swing yer pardner round and round...thow 'er in the toilet and flush 'er down!" Everyone giggled uncomfortably while I was looking for the nearest exit.
Went horseback riding with GW. He didn't have an English Side-Saddle, so I had to lie uncomfortably on the back hump of the traditional saddle. Not fun. George thought it was really funny to keep making horse noises. He would ask his horse questions and then answer in the horse voice. I know what you're thinking...sort of a "Mr. Ed" voice, right? No. He neighed and snorted. Over and over. When I didn't laugh, he must have thought I just didn't hear him, so he kept repeating it louder and louder until I offered up a polite chortle. It was absolutely horrifying! The only consolation was that Dick Cheney had a scheduling conflict, so he wasn't able to join us. Even I have my limits...
Went on orbitz.com today to try to get a earlier flight out of his hell.
This morning, GW burst into my bedroom at 5:30am, singing "Boot Scootin' Boogie." When I hissed and swat at him, he nervously explained that he thought I would want to go shoot guns with he and his boys.
I glared at him, passed a little gas, rolled over and went back to sleep.
I couldn't leave quickly enough this morning! I think George is a little depressed at what little amount of fun I had at his ranch. At breakfast, I could tell he was a little down in the mouth, as he didn't even try to strike up a conversation with his Rice Crispies. I heard him mumble something about cutting his vacation short due to Hurricane Katrina and his need to help people cope with the devastation. Sounded like the responsible thing to do, but I suspect his early departure is more about me leaving and less about his constituents.
I can't wait to get home and lie in the sun by the sliding glass door! I suspect GW has a solid schedule of lying to do back at the White House, as well. I tried to cheer him up when I said my goodbyes. "Keep your chin up, Dub...it's only another month until your next five-week vacation!"
Thanks for your hospitality, George! I hope we (never) get the chance to do it again!
Thursday, August 11, 2005
First off, I was in this huuuuuge group of people who were hanging out with Peter Jennings. We were looking for important news stories to present themselves so we could report them. We were walking through a city park, when I noticed Brad Pitt, sitting on a cement wall. I called to the group, "Hey, it's Brad Pitt!" When I looked around, I found the group was scurrying away--PJ as their guide (that's what we call him)--in pursuit of a hot lead.
I gingerly approached Brad and said, "What's crackin'? How you livin', G?"
Brad, clearly confused, responded, "Aren't you Kukka?"
"Straight up." I have to admit, I didn't know why I was talking like that, but the words continued to pour out. "What you doin', playa? Why you sitting here all ragged out?"
"Do you mean why am I wearing my finest clothes?" asked Brad.
"I'm getting ready to marry Angelina Jolie The wedding is supposed to start in a couple of minutes," Brad said, motioning toward a large group of guests that had appeared from nowhere.
"Miss me wit all dat, cracker!" I couldn't accept what he was saying as truth. After all, Jennifer Aniston and I go waaaaaay back and I'm not about to be seen at Brad's wedding to the other woman.
I looked at the guests gathering. It was a smorgasbord of celebrities. Through the crowd I indentified George Clooney, Oprah, Yoko-Ono, Bennifer--Part Deux (Affleck and Garner...duh), Ashton and Demi, Jude and his nanny, Sienna and Orlando (which made it quite awkward with the Jude/Nanny combo), and P-Diddy. I didn't take the time to see who was sitting on the bride or grooms side, so don't ask.
As I was eyeballing the gaggle of guests, Brad suddenly turned to me, "Would you perform the ceremony?"
"Are you shitting me? I am SO THERE!" The words flew off of my lips before I could even consider how Jen would feel. I'm a sucky friend.
Just then, the string quartet started playing "The Bridal March" and we hurried to get in our places. Angelina started down the sidewalk, toward the chupah (I don't think either of them are Jewish, so the traditional canopy was bit puzzling). She was wearing her Laura Croft outfit and cluthing a small bouquet of nunchucks (I know...made little sense to me, either).
Suddenly, I saw Peter Jennings in the bushes with the hungry journalism gang. They were trying to take candids of the wedding to sell to the tabloids!
"STOP!" I yelled. "The paparazzi are invading!"
Brad and I ran to the perimeter, where PJ and the gang were hiding in the shrubbery.
"Booooo, Peter Jennings! Boooooooo!" I vociferated. "That's just in poor taste," I muttered under my breath.
"Why you all up in my kool-aid, Jennings?" Brad shouted. He looked at me, startled at his sudden outburst.
PJ apologized and retreated with his crew of salivating young journalists.
The string quartet began playing again. Angelina continued down the sidewalk and Brad began to cry.
"She's so beautiful," he sobbed.
I smiled and said, "By the power vested in me, by the State of Insanity, I now pronounce you husband and tomb-raider. You may now tongue kiss me."
Brad turned and we snogged heavily until Angelina yelled, "Booooo, Kukka-Maria! Boooooooo!"
It was at that moment, I woke up. I should have known it was a dream. After all, I don't think Peter Jennings is doing paparazzi work from the grave and I'm confident I would never officiate at a wedding ceremony between Brad and Angelina (although I would totally mack with him).
I got your back, Jen! Holla!!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
I know...you probably thought "America's Next Top Model" was more of a natural fit for me. Me, too. But, when Big Brother came a-knockin' on my door, I wasn't going to turn down a summer of maxin' and relaxin' by the pool. And it's not like I can't get a modeling contract on my own...
For those of you who watch Big Brother 6 (it goes without saying that because I'm on there, it's EVERYONE), you know that each person was paired with someone they knew outside of the house and that these pairings were kept secret from the other houseguests. What you don't know is that every single person was told they were secretly paired with ME. Everyone thinks I'm their secret partner! While all of the "surface" secret alliances have been revealed, the fact that I'm plotting secretly with every contestant has remained hidden...until now.
Don't believe me? Aside from my official BB6 headshot (above), here are some candid stills taken from the live feeds:
my strategy, I'm pretending to sleep while
April, Jennifer, Sarah and Rachel plot
their next moves. I learn a lot this way.
Janelle, Howie, Rachel and I are talking about
who to evict next. Someone from our posse
MUST GET Head of Household (HOH)
this week or we're screwed! I hope I get it...
I could use some of the "perks" that come with HOH
(namely treats, catnip, pictures from home, whiskey, etc.).