Sunday, August 21, 2005

Lifestyles of the Rich and FARBulous

I'm sorry to be so remiss about blogging, but it's been a hectic two days. On Friday, I was awakened before dawn by a call on the Lavender Phone. When I answered, an unemotional voice explained a change in my assignment: Guest blogging for FARB had been moved up. I was given directions to a private landing strip at Hobby Airport and--

"Wait," I whined. "I always get lost when I go to Hobby Airport."

Later, after being driven to Hobby in a Lincoln Towncar with deeply tinted windows, I boarded FARBforce 1. I ignored the waiting cocktail and napped on the flight to NYC. (You should see the bar in the FARB Limo that picked me up. Unfortunately, the agreement I signed specifies NO PHOTOS.)

I barely had time for three drinks before we made a quick stop to the FARB Suite at The Pierre so I could drop my luggage. Then I was blindfolded and brought to the FARB Office. After a soak in the hot tub to get rid of travel fatigue, I was advised that the FARB Therapist was on his way up.

This excited me. I started making up a bunch of twisted dreams and stories about how my parents and my second grade teacher were responsible for all the failures of my life. But it was not to be. It was the FARB Massage Therapist who awaited me. Has anyone seen the movie Living Out Loud? That's all I'm going to say about that.

After another cocktail or two, the FARB Chef brought in a fruit pizza to soak up fortify me. This is not really a pizza, but I can't give you the recipe because FARB's instructions were clear. If I post any recipes, he'll publicly mock me when he returns. Mmmmm, kiwi.

I'd like to say more about FARB's opulent lifestyle--so different from my own simple country life, yet we have the same publisher...huh--but I'm between parties, where I'm mixing and mingling as FARB's stand-in. Poor lamb, no wonder he needs a vacation.

If I'm not too hung over busy over the next few days fielding calls from celebrities and editors and answering FARB's fan mail, I'll try to crack the code in the address book on FARB's computer and share it with you, his loyal readers. Hopefully, I'll also have time to fire a missile or two in the blog war between FARB and Spott Scott-O-Rama.