I am starting to hyperventilate. The myriad of choices of where to go for the weekend puts you in the category of who you are in the hierarchy of singledom. Hamptons–which part? Where do you stay? Which nightclubs allow you in? Do you fly for the weekend with a few friends to South Beach? Same questions. Oh, and make sure to have an awesome tan pre-trip. HELLO HOLLYWOOD TANS. Selective Amnesia for a moment or two about the dire effects of the cancerous rays of the oven. A Sylvia Plath thought. Woah! Back to where to go. Make sure you look young and hot. If you aren’t doing Botox yet, get some good scotch tape and tape the sides of your face upward, a la The Bride of Wildenstein look(Children and Adults DO NOT do not do this at home or anywhere, for this matter.) Have mind-blowing photos to plaster all over the newest place to be–nope, Friendster seems to be passe’, though I love it dearly–Facebook seems to be the place to be if you want to BE. Make sure to have some great photoshop program edit out all the jiggly cellulite and ugly photos, and enjoy the oohs…and ahhs…
Okay, I just re-read what I just wrote. I am a JAP at mind, but not at heart. Or I am the River in Egypt (Denial).
Nah, I’m just a wacky chick that sees life in a weird light and you guys read me…Who are you???? I thank you all.
I believe I need some major rest. Okay, have the line-up for the Subway Series, and I am rooting for my team–but I cannot tell you who they are….
Gigi, getting ready to get chummy with some Cherry Garcia and The N.Y. Post