Today is my fourth day of being ill. Apart from having a sore throat, a horrendous cough, and a high fever, I’m doing fabulously. If Dario Argento saw me now he wouldn’t certainly say that I’m “too pretty to kill” in his films, since I probably resemble one of his corpses with all the black underneath my eyes from lack of sleep from delirious ramblings.
But being bed bound has its merits like being able to read Chuck Palahniuk’s Haunted in less than a day and the biography of Marie Antoinette. Consequently, I was able to blame my sobbing over the Queen’s tragic demise to my escalating temperature (doesn’t everyone become more emotional when sick?) rather than admit that I’m just the typical sappy girl. So, to add to my “girly” experience I watched Dear Frankie and saw for the first time a couple of episodes from Desperate Housewives (my favourite is Bree cos she’s so “perfect” while her husband wants her to be a dom, how amusing is that?).
Re-listening to old CDs I’ve noticed that Taylor Hanson pronounces me the same way as Mr. Molko does. Don’t believe me? Listen to Hanson’s Speechless and then Placebo’s Allergic (To thoughts of Mother Earth) and you’ll see for yourself. After this comparison I can very well go into hiding before I’ll become the next victim of the notorious Molko Rampage. Good thing he’s too busy living in the studio and most likely won’t even see this…hehe.
To kill some time I’ve been playing paper dolls with Swami only that we cut out images from People magazine so instead of having your typical paper dolls we have Jessica Simpson, Kevin Federline, Tom Cruise, and Angelina Jolie. Our storylines are just as extravagant like how my Swami’s Angelina doll decapitated my Jessica doll (this is what happens when you let your daughter watch A Tale of Two Cities too often!).
I’m hoping to get better soon so that this weekend I can be in L.A. to visit Rose. Jon, if you happen to be around L.A. you’re always welcome to crash our so-called party of two.
Last night I was reading in the Italian edition of Vanity Fair this interview that they conducted with various prostitutes. I can’t believe that some of them are only charging 50 euros per client. A lot of them earn 1,000 euros a day (which means 20 blokes a day or something close to it). I was talking with Rebecca (Swami’s nanny) if she thought she could sleep with 20 blokes a day if she were to be a prostitute and she totally cracked me up cos she responded, “Twenty? That’s a lot! Maybe…two.” And I told her, “With two you’d only be making like 100 euros a day! Which would be infinitely less than what I’m paying you!” And then she said, “If you think 50 euros is so little how much would you charge?” That’s when told her, “Hey, I don’t even get out of bed if I don’t make a million!”
On another note, I think that you should all go welcome my gorgeous co-national Monica Bellucci who happens to have more things in common with me than you may think, such as both being testimonials for D&G, we both did calendars for Max magazine, and having both done the commercials for Breil jewelry a few years back.
Also, Robbie Williams new single, Trippin is the most infectious song to ever exist. It gets stuck in your head and you just can’t get rid of it. The baby in the video also looks so creepy (or maybe it’s just cos I saw it at 3a.m.).
Now, I'm off to watch Dawson's Creek re-runs since I'm not that bored (or sappy) yet to watch whatever daft soap opera they show in the mornings.