FLORIDA — FLORIDA — FLORIDA – FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA… Wake up.
Open eyes. Stare at the ceiling. Realize it’s getting warmer and the ice is melting little by little.
Breathe in the aroma coming from the kitchen. Something’s yummy. The chef is making Tipper and myself a terrific breakfast.
Check the clock. Oh boy, supposed to talk to Carter in a few about that salmonella peanut thing. I know there’s some warming in there somewhere. The chef’s gonna have to trash that omelet and make me a fresh one. The hell with him, I pay him damn good.
Off comes the robe, get on the scale. Yeahhhh, I think Affleck should play me in that movie. Check out my side angles in the mirror. Not bad, Albert.
I really should look into getting one of those Segways – this house is just so damned big.
Get in the shower. Ahhhhhhhhh. Thank God I had the handyman remove those pressure regulators. This is awesome. Before it dribbled like two prostate patients. But–this–is–so–invigorating.
Get out of the shower; use the heat lamp room, then sauna room, then steam room. Emm good.
Into the massage room. Here’s Consuelo for my morning massage.
“Good Morning, Mr. Nobel Laureate. Congrats on the Grammy!”
“Hello, Consuelo. Nice to see you. Did you bring that giant tortoise soup recipe from your Mother?”
“Yes, Mr. Vice President, I gave it to the chef.”
That chef better get his butt in gear and make that soup tonight. Don’t care if giant tortoise is hard to get. All he does is cook for the staff of thirty five, three times a day. Big deal. Try leading the movement – now that’s work.
I hope Carter calls me soon. Maybe I’ll make him wait if he does, I’d like that.
This is a rotten massage – Ouch – Jeez, Consuelo.
Gotta go to the tobacco pickers luncheon today, press some flesh. Tonight’s the Cancer Society silent auction. What are we giving them to auction? Oh yeah… autographed pictures. Any percentage there? Nah, be charitable Albert, come on. Well, have a lawyer check it… Wait – have Tipper’s lawyer check it.
“President Carter is on the phone, sir.”
“Thanks, Jenson.”
That freaking butler never knocks. I told the head butler to tell all the other butlers to knock before entering a room.
“Hey, Jimmy! How’s it going!”?
“It’s Bill, Al! You forget me already?”
“HoHooo, Bill, my guy said it was the peanut man! What’s up, babe?”
That’s it, fire Jenson. I so don’t want to listen to the ramblings of poor Mr. Rodham again today. God, he’s so needy now. He can’t even earn speaking money over in Jersey for cripes sake. My how far we’ve fallen, Billy boy.
“So how’s it going up in the Big Apple, there Bill? Harlem nice? I would really like to get to see your office someday. Oh, boy, wait a sec Bill, Carter is on the phone now… I gotta go… ‘kay? Bye.”
Thank God that didn’t go on for long.
“Consuelo, tell the Chef I want 4 eggs scrambled, bacon well, sourdough toast, hash browns, biscuits and gravy, …annnnnnd some green tea.”
“Yes, Mr. Nobel Laureate, but I think he made you an omelet.”
“No I think, Consuelo!”
“Yes, Mr. Vice President, I’ll tell him.”
I’ll wear my Ostrich boots to the luncheon today. Cowboy look should be good.
I should call up Deepak. I want to host an “Al Gore World Conference,” and I’d like to include him. Gotta tell him to lose the Elton John glasses though. Yes, a big AL GORE World Conference. I want a film crew there. A mini series… No – a regular series for HBO. Lots of tender behind the scenes stuff. Third world folks. Polar bears. Make sure to hide the luxury trailers from the press this time. Maybe we could do some kind of “Hut Conference” for the cameras. Total green deal. DiCaprio will do it… he’d better. Yeah, a TV film crew… but shot on 35. TV star… hmmmm – I’ll wear my “Wild Kingdom” khaki ascot suit.
Let’s see… that would be Oscar, Nobel, Grammy, and soon – yes an Emmy. Let’s see Obama try that.
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