Back to Hilton Head
Don’t be jealous, y’all.
I know you’re hatin’ on the fact that I get to go to such a plush, opulent resort area.
That I get to lay by the crystal blue, sparkling pool and work on the base tan that transforms me into a hoity-toity boutique shopper. That I get to go play Sun City and tee off amid the Woods’s and Palmer’s.
That I’m gonna sip pink champagne cocktails as I regale the ladies at the Windsor club with my cute little stories about how my Gucci bag was custom made and my ability to accessorize with Fifi, the Maltese, has you green with envy and quickly texting your personal assistant to pick one up on the way to the course.
And don’t be jealous that the sand beneath my toes was imported from Aruba so as to improve the look and ambience of my bikini-serape shots, oceanside. Really, they’re just postcards that I’ll send out to Elle and Vogue. No biggy.
These “natural” surroundings are nothing to bat an eye at. Speaking of eyes, I hope my mascara gets hand delivered by Coco Chanel, as promised. This sea salt spray wreaks havoc on my lustrously long lashes.
Geez, look at the time. It’s 9:00 am according to my hand jeweled, impeccably crafted, Cartier.
I must be off.
Dammit! Where is my chauffer? No tip THIS time, buster.
Ta-ta!
zoeann6053@aol.com said:
on July 13, 2007 at 9:34 pm
My dearest Deedle…are you doing crack? I did not even know you knew all those brands and words. Amazing! Lu
Deedle said:
on July 14, 2007 at 6:36 am
Why Lu, my dear. Of course I know all these brands. I’m on the cutting edge of chic. I not only know these words, but I set the trend. Geez. Where have YOU been? Crack? No. That stuff’s for Kmart shoppers. I prefer mine laden with gold dust. Looks better in the crystal pipe, too. I gotta go, the Swedish masseuse’s are here…