Had a fun St. Patrick's Day, but I pretty much overdid it and ended up sleeping until afternoon. I suppose that's what I get for downing all that Bushmill's after my lunchtime meds. That was probably a mistake, because I woke up sloshing around in an inch-deep puddle of a disgusting mixture of half-digested pizza, pepperoni and Irish whiskey. Good thing Bessie put a fitted rubber sheet under the bed linens. She mopped it all up while I was on the toilet. Well, not on it, exactly. I spent the better part of an hour kneeling in front of it. Sure glad THAT'S over.
By the time I crawled back into bed, Dr. Morell was here, talking on a cell phone. He looked serious, then he looked at me and handed it to me, saying, "It's Donna. She needs to talk to you." At first, I had no idea who Donna was, because the last several months of the you-know-what totally destroyed my memory. I thought it was that cute blonde Donna character who modeled jeans and torpedoed Gary Hart's presidential campaign in the eighties. She was so sexy. I was hoping that I might have a shot at her after all these years.
Turns out it was Donna Brazile, the
Well, that didn't go as planned. The first thing out of Donna's mouth was, "The jig is up! They know about my giving you the debate questions!" Now you know why I hate taking her calls. It's always something with her and it's never anything good. Apparently, around the last part of the you-know-what, I was going to debate Carrot Head and I was way behind in my preparation. I recall that Podesta was yammering about needing preparation, but somehow I thought he'd said something about Preparation H, because I'd been complaining about my hemorrhoids. So while I was busy applying ointments, Donna was twisting arms over at CNN to get the debate questions.
And people wonder why I drink.
I mean, so what if I had the questions before the debate? What's the big deal? I traveled over 900,000 miles as Secretary of State -- the most traveled Secretary of State in history. I was really busy! Okay, so Kerry was Secretary of State during the you-know-what, but you get what I mean, don't you dear diary? It still counts, right?
Nothing is going right for me. At least I have six tubes of ointment left.