To the Beat of Somebody's Drum (I guess)

So today was my first visit to Villa Mucha. I guess you can say that I am no longer a Villa Moda virgin. Yes yes. It's true. I have dipped my toes into the lake of the languid. I said I would never ever go there on principle: I don't believe in all the designer hoopla and the waste/greed/gluttony associated with it. However, I relented and went in today because it was my friend's, friend's birthday and I like her. We went to the café and let me just tell you – their food and their cheesecake ROCKS baybeeee (light and airy with real graham cracker crust – most delicious). The atmosphere is also really nice – very relaxing and tranquil (except for the clad-in-black, weird-eyeglass-wearing Eurodudes who were sitting at the next table. That's ok. I can deal with them and their fake tans.) I'm definitely going there again. Paying big bucks for food is okay in my world because food is food regardless of how much you pay for it and I don't eat it to try to outdo anyone (and I would also give it to poor people).

I have also wanted to visit Villa Mucha based on Slapperella's slippers (shoes). They are, indeed, magical. I don't believe that she has taken them off since she purchased them from Dolce and Gabana (sp? – WTF) discounted at VM. I don't believe she has bathed since the put them on either. They would be, as I see it, quite appropriate even for circus sex. They are extraordinary magical bejeweled slippers and I love them, so I have been trying to get her to go there with me to seek out equally magical slippers for myself. I just know that my pumpkin would turn into a carriage and that mice would be made into white horses and that Prince Charming would.....YEAH BAYBEEEEE.... I digress.

Anyhooooo (Purgy)…. I went to Villa Mucha and walked through the shops after having lunch. I was immediately met by the Pucker Factor (you know where you can't wedge a needle in your behind even with use of a sledgehammer). I feel like all eyes know that I shop (wherever the phuck I feel like it) someplace "lower". I gotta tell you though, if those chicks have money, they sure dress funny. One girl had on a skin tight pair of pants, a strange tunic type thing wrapped around her and enough make-up to look like a Saturday afternoon at an Earl Scheibb garage(that made Bobarino giggle). Other "ladies" were wearing things that could have been on the sci-fi channel. Very odd. I kept looking for Spock. There were also lots of androgynous (also sci-fi) piccolo players (you know – light in the loafers, knob-gobblins – whatever you wanna say). No, I'm not politically incorrect because I DO TOO say such things to gay friends. It's ok. I make fun of everyone.

Bobarino was running around merrily picking things up and doing a little Vanna White for us all. I felt like the mommy of a bad 3 year old. If I had told him that, he probably would have had a sexual fantasy about it because he's a pig, so I didn't.

We looked at the Aston Martins on display and our Kuwaiti birthday-girl friend said, "What do I have to do to get one of those? Strip?" I answered, "No. You have to find yourself a lesbian sheikha because the sheikhs are too cheap." Which, in all honesty, is how I feel – speaking from first-hand (ha ha) experience. I'm still driving a GMC. Hey – did you notice that Aston Martin makes a DB8 (that is real close to "deviate" – get it? Do you think he was phuckin with the rich?).

I didn't have the courage to go to the upper floors because the pucker factor was limiting my mobility. I thought I would try it again another day when I looked cuter and when I could bring Slapperella with me for morale support. Babarino wasn't helping things running around caressing LV bags and the like.

Segway.

The Man is pissing me off (everybody pisses me off, but he is really on my last last last nerve), so I'm "shopping" (which is quite different from "hunting" because "shopping" is innocent – really. It is.). Anyhow, so far, I have met a married guy with 8 children who fell in love with me at first sight (I could tell because he had puppy eyes and his palms were all sweaty). He's really very nice (and successful and gorgeous and has extremely large feet), but I don't see it materializing. Then, there was a young'un who invited me to coffee and brought his COUSIN (who was HOT) and then when we were supposed to go out on "our second date" to dinner, half an hour before we were to meet, he sends me an SMS (doesn't even bother to call) asking, "Can we make it another night? I have to go meet some VIPs." What the phuck am I??? Chopped liver? 'Oh, can I have your cousins number?' Then, there was a very polite (too polite if you ask me) guy from the Ministry of Finance – single, but too young. Then there was a married-and-looking-for-Mrs.-2nd-wife guy from the Kuwait Air (and you can say "air" any way you want to – making it more funny) Force.

It is hot and the villagers are restless! I think I hear drums…. Gotta go.