Saturday, February 27, 2010

Carla Bruni fucked up my nap schedule.

I'm in hiding this afternoon. Last night was my second annual VAGTAIL, cocktail sans Hommes. The twenty-ten addition overflowed with apple-lime-tini drinks complete with flashing ice cubes, and franco-anglo-relations in all their galoriousness. Meaning, I migrated from the french circle to the anglo circle, trying to get oil and water to mix. I now fully understand the concept of herding cats and still have a few things to learn before I can add "feline wrangler extraordinaire" to my resume.

During my self-inflicted, head-pounding isolation this afternoon I flicked on the telly hoping to turn off my brain for a few hours. The Canal + show "Effet Papillon" seemed like a good idea, and I curled up in my L-couch, fully prepared to doze into a post-party coma when...

Carla Bruni fucking ruined my nap.

Bitch.


It would seem that Madame first lady of France has pulled out of an Italian music festival because of lyrics that poked fun at Sarko.

My eyes popped open like they were spring loaded when I heard this. I doubted my hearing for the first few minutes if the report. Surely I'd heard that wrong.

The world's most renowned super-model turned French would-be queen is insulted that a song about her was going to be broadcast live all over Italy?

...OK, so it poked fun at them a teensie little bit.

...OK. A lot.

OK, so it basically said their marriage is a sham whose sole purpose is to parade Carla around France like she's some kind of magician's assistant. Look over here!! Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!! Who wants to tap that? (PS am I the only one who thinks her smile is just CREEPY?! That smile has a definite stepford serial killer vibe. Check out those crazy teeth for yourselves)

No one likes to be made fun of, and I can understand not wanting your husband picked on; but let's not get carried away here people. Truth be told, the real source of my annoyance stems from the media attention this is getting in light of recent Chilean earthquakes and other catastrophes. Do we really need ANOTHER story about Carla?? I'm going all Marsha, Marsha, Marsha on your asses, but I don't care. Why does SHE get all the attention?

I blame Mme. Bruni for the purple bags under my eyes this Saturday evening. Maybe I can take Monday morning off and bill it to Le Palais Elysée?

PS - Marsha Carla, your fangs look fake.

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