Mizz Snark HAARPs about the Weather

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Not the view from Fifth Avenue that Haversham and I could recall.

Dahling! It’s been positively Les Misérables the past few months, stranded aboard the Lurssen yacht that Haversham chartered from Fraser out of Monaco, drifting aimlessly from one swarthy Mediterranean port to the next to the next to the next, thankfully beset upon by financial pirates only twice.

Nobody on the crew could figure out how to move the Bentley off the helipad after Antoine lost the keys in some silly scuba outfit with at least 50 pockets. We were trés désolé until our worthy Captain Petrus had the poor thing airlifted to Cannes. The Bentley; not Antoine.

Seriously, my dearest dahling. One can consume only so much Champagne, lamb kebab, Ouzo, hand-caught fresh seafood, roast suckling pig, Sardinian pecorino, Kalamata olive tampenade, couscous, hummus and antipasto before one goes absolutely stark raving MAD. And it RAINED! Every day except for the ones when it didn’t.

But we survived the harrowing ordeal—and I’m back into my normal size two frocks (hate me… you MUST, I know!), thanks to thrice-daily Pilates and morning Bikram Yoga sessions with my adorable trainer Hugo and his companion, the incomparable Stardust McNeil. Geniuses, I swear it!

Oh. Yes. Weather. What’s all this pishposh about ‘Global Warming’, anyway? The ice is melting and shall drown New York within the decade? I saw pictures taken just last week on Fifth Avenue, and nothing looked underwater in the slightest! Terribly out of season style-wise, but isn’t it just?

Speaking of pictures, dahling! You did so promise to write, and I watched for your missives every day from the observation deck of the yacht. Not one single bottle floated by, with or without a note from you! Alas. I am so abandoned.

Nevertheless, we’ll be turning in the yacht tomorrow or at least sometime this week, picking up the new jet in Portugal… Peru? Panama? I forget exactly.

Then, much as I’d LOVE to be heading stateside, it’s off to Sao Paulo for a wee bit of business, followed by a fortnight of blissful relaxation in the Galapagos to recuperate. The weather should be lovely this time of year, assuming no more tornados or tsunamis or whatever they call them in the South Pacific.

Haversham sends his undying love.

MWAH!

Much love to you. Miss you so much! Mean it!!

Superstorm Sandy Announces Name Change, Future Plans

Day Two of Sandy

Hurricane Sandy has changed names every few hours since her arrival on this nation’s celebrity radar. Yesterday we heard this lovely federal disaster called Hurricane Sandy, Cyclone Sandy, Post-Tropical Cyclone Sandy, and -as of this morning- Superstorm Sandy.

Day Two of Sandy

Day two of Superstorm Sandy which, by any name, is turning out to be a federal disaster.

This morning in a surprise announcement, Superstorm Sandy announced that

  • she now wishes to be known as Krystal Kat,
  • she intends to be adopted as the eleventh Kardashian,
  • she’s dating a hunky waterspout named Stu that she met off Bermuda,
  • and she plans to settle in Nashville.

I’d TOTALLY live there! I just LOVE that new TV show with Hayley Panini and the old lady from Cornwall in Britain.

Rumors of an international tour began circulating shortly after Kat’s whirlwind tour of the Great Lakes region, which sent rogue waves crashing over lake shorelines and hastily erected crowd barriers.

The storm formerly known as Superstorm Sandy refused to answer MSS and her press minions when asked about plans for future performances or press releases in the works. So far, no firm date has been set for Kat’s arrival in Canada for more than brief performances and limited overnight stays.

Stu and I totally ROCK hats and boots. We’re getting matching ankle tattoos this weekend!

Attempts at post-appearance fan interviews and crowd response broadcasts have been only marginally successful, as Superstorm Sandy, aka Krystal Kat, is known to leave her audiences feeling a bit powerless.

Much love to each of you. Don’t eat life too seriously, or you’ll get a tummy ache.