Today is Bastille Day. It is also your pal Plummy’s birthday AND the almost-anniversary of the blog and I’m feeling a bit thoughtful. Not thoughtful in the way that makes me want to do something for other people (ha! can you imagine?! Although I did just put in a load of whites even though the maid will be here at noon. Lovely woman but doesn’t understand the intricacies and nuances of high-octane chlorine bleach) but just general reflections on my life thus far.
It’s not been such a bad life. Oh, I’ve had rotten things happen and made my own fair share of bad decisions, some enjoyable (that midfielder from KV Mechelen who had thighs like two Belgian pythons auditioning for Cirque de Soleil) and some not (that gold toreador outfit in 1999…with bugle beads, oh sweet Lord, the bugle beads) but, to quote Errol Flynn’s famous last words “I’ve had a hell of a lot of fun and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to write for you bunch of crazy-making nutjobs, and as I sit on the terrace of Villa de Plumcake, drinking tequila out of a hollowed-out avocado (all my cups are dirty and Mila isn’t here yet) and watching a dozen baby dolphins cavort in the waves, I’ve got to think this is about the best job a girl could have.
Well, except as massage therapist for the Spain or Xabi Alonso’s personal chest hair groomer. I would drop you like you were hot if THAT gig came up. Mmm, our time will come, my delicious Basque bonbon. Our time will come.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to spend the past couple years with you. Some of you followed me from the newspaper, some came along from Manolo, some from my daily life and some from who knows where but I thank you. If I could stand without falling down this cliff into the Pacific I would salute you. As it is I can’t feel my legs so I will raise my avocado to you in salute. Here’s to another great year. Superfantastic!