Rubbing it In

I was just taking a beauty nap before joining the Sunday mayhem at The Palace when I look at my missed calls. "Alva" it said along with a bunch of nobodies. "Alva" is the code name for my sister in Newport, du Barry. When "Alva" calls you return it.

It seems that my call interrupted the lunch on the cliffs of Newport of not only The Countess du Barry, but The Countess of Bedelia, Mark, Officer Brian and his boyfriend, Bennett. du Barry rubbed it in my face by saying, "And YOU are stuck in that hot sewer called South Beach." to which I replied, "..A hot sewer FILLED with nearly naked Latinos, thank you."

Then I open my email and get this picture of my crazy, bitch housemate Terry waterskiing on the salt pond his summer house in Rhode Island is on. "I feel glamorous" he writes, and he should. He just sold his penthouse in NYC to the heiress of the Smirnoff fortune, for an amount I'm ashamed to even mention, but if you saw the virtual ad you'd know it was 7.5 MILLION. He's always been glamorous though (he could pull it off when she still shopped at JC Penny).

There is only one thing for me to do: Join them! and I will spend Labor Day Weekend in my old stomping grounds of the Rhode Island coast. Such fond memories: I spent 16 years of my youth on Rhode Island's nude, Moonstone Beach. We drank all day on the beach and then drank all night in Newport, Haversham, or Westerly. I know that nothing has changed at The Olympia Tearoom on Watch Hill. We boiled lobsters in champagne and performed operatic skits on the west lawn. du Barry rules Newport now much the way she did in years gone by. Terry rules Charlestown if only because he has more money in his sock than the town has in its treasury.

It will be fun.