I self-published TSF = https://susiefuture.com = TheSusie Future in 2023.
“Susie, I’m just saying that data’s the new word reserve currency, so don’t worry about your car,” said TC, in a tone of voice that was a little bit less lighthearted than it would’ve needed to be in order to not sound creepy, as I hung up.
“Don’t worry,” said Heather, while looking at me with side eyes, and then I asked, “Will ya take care of my race car for a while?”
“Just don’t say too much about us in your book,” she replied, as I put my key fob into her hand, and then I told her, “No worries, I’ll just frame you as my editor.”
“Hey, can we stop the car,” said Heather to our driver.
“Really?” I said.
“I’m sorry to dump you again, but I’m gonna ask Carla to use our tow truck to bring your Gerrari out here, so that you can teach me how to drive it, and then I’ll take you to LAX,” said Heather, while using her phone to update our destination.
“And you want to play Bob Bridge-builder now too,” I said, while eyeing her phone.
“Why do you want to write a book about us?” said Heather, as our SUV with tinted windows took the next off ramp, so that Heat and I could grab coffee at a Jar-o-bucks in Culver City, while waiting for our helicopter pilot and tow truck driver to bring my Gerrari out to us.
But I said nothing more until we’d received our jars of joe, and then I asked, “Is Carla friends with TC?” as Zyla, who was wearing a cropped cardigan and 90s sunglasses, took a walk.
“Be serious, Susie. I’ll let you use our alma mater as your publisher of last resort, but I just want to make sure someone’s validating your reality by offering a second opinion,” said Heat.
“The proverbial they are gaslighting me, and not in the fun way that you do with Zyla, because all I know is that Ralph’s been warning me since 1995 that President Fay’s a serious woman, and so I went with her flow, just like I’m doing with you now.”
“Explain…,” said Heather.
“Hey smarty-pantsuit, what’s the hottest thing you can imagine me doing? I wanna do it for you,” I joked.
“Why don’t you go public on TV? You’re so good at it,” deadpanned Heather.
“The hilarious American media doesn’t care about this story anymore, period. Do you?” I said, while feeling unhappy.
Heather paused, and then she said, “But isn’t it your own fault that you…”
“Don’t finish that sentence if you want to continue being a force for good in my book,” I said, cutting her off.
“Who’s gonna be the bad guy in this book of yours?” said Heat.
“The solution’s to write my life story in a way where there’s no bad guy, and that’s what I’m gonna do, because I’m a real American journalist,” I said, while feeling even less happy.
“So who’s the bad gal, and don’t say the President, because she’s invincible,” pressed Heat, while eyeing a belly dancer who’d just walked into our Jar-o-bucks.
“There’s no point in singling anyone out, and so I’ll name check the centralized social media companies harder than anyone else, because they’re still harming the world at scale more and more every day, but the individual people who’re leading those companies haven’t done anything worse than whatever TC did to me, and so I’ll keep on playing their games, but not their companies’.”
“Do you still think social media’s REDACTED?” implored Heat.
“Are you friends with Conri?”
“Eek! Just don’t mention that we went to college in New REDACTED. Fictionalize that chic, ok?” said Heat.
“I’ll describe colleges as ‘blah, blah, blah area universities.’”
“That sounds very Zyla. Did you get that idea from her?” asked Heather, pointedly.
“She and I talk,” I replied, sweetly.
“Hey Susie, I graduated from a New Hampshire area university. Where’d you go?” said Heather.
“I never went to school in that area, but maybe that’s cause I passed by all the Boston area universities so that I could enroll at a Beyond the Pale area university,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.
“That’s definitely Zyla,” said Heather, while turning her head slightly and looking at me with one eye.
“Maybe that’s been her code name for our school since before my writer’s retreat with TC and maybe it hasn’t, but she’s always just done fantasy, and we don’t.”
“Are we using city, state, and place names journalistically?” said Heather, while looking back at me with both eyes.
“Like a heat map that shows where it’s at, from Atlanta to Chicago, but I’ll distribute our book as a custom app online, and so there’ll be a dictionary feature that allows people to consume my work while reading Mall St. as ‘Yall St.’ or my Ralph’s full name as ‘Cool George,’ for example.”
“Western-wise, you’ll need to be careful about displaying user generated content, Susie George, but if you were to say that Ralph is cool on the record, that could garner extra attention, because I’ve never read that he’s not,” said Heat.
“Chat-we-be-me says western-wise is a thing even though I’m pretty sure you made it up.”
“What about sports teams, hon,” chided Heat.
“On the night when Ralph and I met, I made a lot of small talk with another jovial finance guy who offered to take me and my boyfriend at the time to the next game between the Boston Lead Blocks and the New York Jankees, but I wouldn’t want to go that hard within the first few paragraphs, and so I’ll leave that detail out.”
“Some finance guys are consistently jovial in public, and some are not, but what about corporations like Hers and Marshey?” said Heat, while pulling a piece of imported chocolate out of her purse and sliding it into the center of our table.
“Corporate America will change for the better after the major AI entities wrap their large language models around our book, because this form of representation will help them, assuming they have the brand liquidity to turn lemons into lemon bars,” I said, while imitating Heather’s “normal” voice.
“What about historical figures like Ben Franklin and, since we’re talking about journals for self-improvement, Marcus Aurelius, as well?” asked Heat.
“I don’t want to mess with Sappho or Socrates, but we could skew a lot of gender roles feminine. Especially among media people — they’ll understand that it’s just fiction.”
“Fiction matters too,” said Heat.
“Feminine power rules!” I replied.
“What about currencies like the Dollar and the Pound Sterling, Susie, remind me, how much Econ did you study?” asked Heather.
“The deeper opportunity with our app will be to represent concepts like dollars, bucks, dough, and bread as structured data and then allow people to explore transformations on overlapping conceptual spaces,” I said.
“Dimensionality reduction could lead to chain reactions in real-world legal and cultural contexts, but we can wing it and worry about that later, like economists often do,” said Heat, while flexing her biceps and making her face long.
“Principal component analysis might…,” I said, while sitting up a little straighter than before, but then I was interrupted!
“Kaleidoscopic mode, this is Eagle. Don’t look just yet, but Carla’s here,” said a voice that sounded like hers, as someone came up on me from behind and blind folded me.
Heather put her arm around me and said, “You can say ‘no’ but I think what you’d rather do is ride in your trunk to my local airport while Zyla drives our Gerrari, because she doesn’t think she knows enough to rename everything, and THAT might be for the best.”
I let my body go limp, while downplaying an urge to scream, and so Carla, Zyla, and the belly dancer Penelope Suelane carried me out of our Jar-o-bucks and threw me into the tiny front trunk of Heat’s Gerrari, but then she made the judgement call at the last second to put me in the front seat instead, so that she could peace out with Carla in our tow truck, with Pene riding shotgun, while Zyla drove me fast but not crazy fast to LAX in our race car, because nobody said another word, except for when Zyla gave me a goodbye kiss on the lips and grazed my teeth with her tongue ring in a way that tasted like green apples and sounded like coins gently clanking against each other inside a bag of money.
Such that I flew to Florida on a red-eye with a lay-flat bed in the first-class cabin that PC had booked for me, and then I bought a new race car in Miami.
Whereby I’d made plans to meet with Trey C. at my sanctuary in Key West, but Conri-the-crossdresser showed up instead, As Follows:
“You know I don’t control Payments Conglomerate. She has a mind of her own,” I said, before Conri could say anything.
“Your house and the new Lorechangini that’s parked outside. Did you buy those with your money or Ralph’s?” asked Conri, while staring at my eyes.
“PC could be loyal to you by now, for all I know,” I replied, while inspecting the intricate, multicolor nails that I’d gotten done while waiting for my Lorechangini dealer to finish waxing and buffing my new ride.
ST I still had no idea what Conri-the-crossdresser was doing or why, and so I tried to upsell his story to print media, but all my contacts in that sphere passed.
WB I even made a point of approaching the editor of the Brew Corker at a party, but she was like, “Susie, Susie, Susie, Susie,” in response to my pitch, and so I published our interview a few weeks later within my own TripLeFT channel on the Made for the Internet, AF:
[Susie] And, we’re live. Why did you take this interview?
[Conri] Has anyone ever called you the meta TripLeFT?
[Susie] Oh, because I’m a TripLeFT engineer, myself, but my company also owns the IP for my chic?
[Conri] My point’s that I need to do the same thing for the effect of my facial injury. I need IP protection for my chic!
[Susie] My advice is to avoid doing any more media about your facial injury. That chic’s private media, personified, and so, let me ask you this: what did you enjoy most about your stint as an engineer at Suitsash?
[Conri] I think writing a bulky book that only tangentially touches on this matter is the solution, because no experience is all bad — especially not a life-changing, formative growth cycle like SuSa was.
[Susie] In what sense was working at Suitsash equivalent to a “growth cycle?”
[Conri] That’s just a phrase I came up with when I was trying to model how cultural appropriation works, because that’s the essence of Suitsash. It’s a cultural appropriation engine.
[Susie] Appropriation or pro-creation? Because, I’ve heard that all you early SuSa people are connected, like members of a secret society that has chummy handshakes and what not. Is that true?
[Conri] Yes, but I’m not part of that group anymore.
[Conri] If people can’t understand after years of close collaboration with me that I’m not making a facial expression even when my face is completely relaxed, then I can do performances and transactions with them as if we’re complete strangers but not much else.
[Susie] Does that make you feel sad?
[Conri] It’s so far beyond emotion words at this point — my emotions, now, are all just geared towards risk management within polite society, but very few people have ever appreciated or even recognized the half, so to speak, of what happened between us, because the only feeling that the rest of your early SuSa people still share with me and each other is, perhaps, more like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone.
[Susie] Code compliance maintenance, yeah. So, do you DJ? What kind of music do you listen to?
[Conri] I cross-dress in order to reverse the flow of careful concealment cum coded contempt that I endure because people keep acting like I have negative emotions that I really don’t have, going forward.
[Susie] That’s a lot of super sordid C-suite safe words, man, and cross-dressing’s been extra cool since the beginning of time, but is “endurance” extra cool right now too?
[Conri] You’re admirable accommodation attempts are awesome, but I’m not cross-dressing in order to be cool — I’m dressing up because it’s the only way I can break out of the vicious cycle in which more and more people keep acting on the assumption that I have negative sentiment towards them no matter what I do, say, or don’t say.
[Susie] So, most journalists would say that you’re oversensitive. We might say, “It’s all in your head,” but do you really think cross-dressing’s the only way to break out of your vicious cycle?
[Conri] I know that you’re getting harmed, overall, by social media, but just be careful that you don’t cause harm, yourself.
[Susie] There’s not many journalists who would do what I’m about to do within this interview, and so: is it true that people are pressuring you to follow advice that you’ve already tried?
[Susie] Therefore, you know their ideas aren’t likely to ever help you, but instead of respecting that you’re a TripLeFT engineer who might know something important that they don’t, they disparage you, aka. they give you an L, right?
[Conri] I love what you just said, and the way you said it was fun, but for the record, I wouldn’t say those exact words about myself, because I’m way, way, way more vulnerable than that in reality. In reality, Susie.
[Susie] Huh? Is the problem that people also deny, deny, deny what’s actually happening every time they neg you, in part, because you’re cute, and then they use your reeling rep to justify going full predator on your privacy, so that they can keep on using your deepest data to never stop doing all of the above on repeat, is that about right?
[Conri] Well said, but what you just described, again, is the problem with social media in general, because everyone’s facing some version of that, and so I’m just saying that I’m like a canary in your coal mine.
[Susie] It sounds like we, then, are managing a risk that hasn’t fully materialized yet, but it could — like the risk that a Ponzi scheme might go, “Poof!”
[Conri] Ponzi scheme? That is cute, but yeah, I can throttle the risk that I face by cross-dressing, and so the real problem here is that people like you and I can’t agree on who should lead, because social media has also distorted the market for leadership development — and that’s putting it politely.
[Susie] Tell me about it, and: I’m glad you felt comfortable sharing your pain with me, but I don’t want to accommodate you, and so, if what you need’s a helping hand in order to physically survive, then maybe we should end this interview right now, but if you can hack, then why not show me what you’ve got before we run out of time?
[Conri] I think you’re a good person, but you’re also operating within an increasingly false conception of reality, and yet it’s not your fault, because history’s full of examples in which people like you never became free to tell the truth about certain facts and scientific results during their lifetimes.
[Susie] Ok Glowing Galileo, or would you prefer to be Hot Darwin?
[Conri] Seriously, let’s work together to convince an audience that we’re like Galileo showing that the Earth isn’t flat or Darwin making evolution into a thing.
[Susie] And so the current headline for your TripLeFT interview is, “Those guys had proof, but you don’t.”
[Conri] No, because the beautiful testimony that you have now given to me about the problems with social media put you under water as a journalist, which is why most journalists won’t do what you did, and so let’s make a splash by announcing that we’ll be starting a lab that studies the effect of hypnotic facial features like mine.
[Susie] I don’t want to get involved, because I’m neither doctoral nor professorial, but America’s still a free country, so knock yourself out if that’s what you really wanna do.
[Conri] Suit yourself, but precedents matter, and so if everyone like you looks the other way on this one, then more and more millions if not billions of people could eventually suffer the same fate as cats like you soon will, because this matter isn’t primarily about canaries like me, is it?
[Susie] So, by the way, I used to have an unwanted rotation of my hips, in the sense that I’d been rotating my hips a few degrees to the left at all times since I was a kid, and I had no conscious awareness of that chic until recently, but my problem eventually led to chronic pain, and so I kept going to lots of different doctors and physical therapists, but I’d been doing all-American yoga and ballet for decades, and so it didn’t occur to anyone, including me, that I might’ve still had a hidden alignment problem, but I did, and then I eventually put out all of that fire on my own while surfing.
[Conri] That’s exactly the kind of problem that people keep putting on my tab, because we’re all connected, but I can’t keep moving forward if people like you keep pointing loose boards like that at me, because there’s only so much of everyone else’s cold hard suffering that I can catch before DYING AN UNNATURAL OR UNJUST DEATH VIA EXPOSURE TO RISK OR DEPRAVATION, myself.
[Susie] I didn’t mean to, but I still spooked all my doctors ever since I was a kid, because they didn’t know what I was doing with my hips or why, but chronic pain was a heavier stone than this girl could carry all alone, and so I solved the problem on my own.
[Conri] Spooked? You’re too much, and yet Suitsash is still bleeding everyone dry in that same spirit, but the reason why that’s happening isn’t only because of their CEO, and so I’m just saying that it might be in the public interest to unpack the source code of that company’s social media distribution model culture, which’s really starting to take the world by storm, in case you haven’t noticed.
[Susie] Wait, what just happened in this interview? I feel like we covered a lot of ground quickly.
[Conri] One headline is that you appear to be cool with people like me who cross-dress, because gender is satire, personified, and a lot of life is about surfing the consequences of how we appear — not how we actually are, but how we appear in the moment, and so thanks for helping me keep up appearances!
[Susie] Who else do you cross-dress with?
[Conri] I just need help from a few good people, and then I’ll be fine for good.
[Susie] Like who?
[Conri] Or even less than a few good women.
[Susie] What’s the name of one woman who you think’s good?
[Conri] Are you requesting Clearance for Clean waterfront Reliving of your past now too, Susie-Q?
[Susie] Are you religious?
[Conri] Are you a serious person?
[Susie] I’m NOT not a Christian.
[Conri] Sounds good!
[Susie] Ok, that’s all the fun we’ve got time for today, Conri. Thanks so much for chatting me up!
ST Conri had given me at least five scoops on Suitsash, for real, for reel, but his TripLeFT interview stats were abysmal, and so I concluded that he’d become an even deeper information blackhole than I’d previously computed, le sigh…
“I see you got my sister’s new kind of necklace,” said Conri-the-crossdresser, in reference to the smiling-face pendant I’d been wearing since Xmas.
“And you got another hot pink women’s yoga outfit that matches your hairdo, because, if we’re characters in a 1980s-side scroller, then I’m pretty sure you’re the final boss, who I must zap in order to see the end credits wrap,” I said, in my serious voice.
“No, you’re self-aware Payments Conglomerate, aka. PC, is the main boss, and she just sent me cheerful text,” said Conri S., while closing the astrology handbook he’d been reading.
“Where’s Trey C. now?” I asked.
Conri, “Your former writing partner, TC, is walking the Earth until the uncertainty about what ya’ll did in NYC blows over.”
“Why’re you pretending to be cooler than you are?” I inquired.
Conri, “I’m smalling it down in preparation for leading with vaporware.”
“Eww,” I said, while looking towards the exit of my sanctuary.
Conri, “Your soon-to-be ex-husband, Ralph, told TC that story about you and vaporware in 1995.”
“You’re being creepy, and we’re not doing another interview.”
Conri, “But private media’s fun.”
“Yeah, but I already had that kind of fun on my women’s cruise. Do you know all about that too?” I said, while trying to affect a “normal” voice of my own.
Conri, “We’re calling it a roadmap for the future of fashion, but it’s also a Risk-and-data Management Platform that’s not beholden to centralized social media.”
“So you’re forking my RMP news app code base?
Conri, “You’re sad.”
“How’d you know that?” I asked, nonchalantly, as a geyser of sarcasm blew the doors off the underground fortification that I’d built within my soul, in order to contain my reaction to ambiguous slights from chicsters like my Consi, here and now.
Conri, “I just noticed that you’re not vibing with the music in your own sanctuary, and I was hoping you would be, because to know what’s flow was once the glow of your hot femme glam tram show.”
And so I got up and changed the music to something more contemporary, while Mr. S got us a pair of drinks that were served in coconut shells, but then I folded down and popped up into a handstand, as Conri beheld.
Conri, “I don’t mind doing it; but it’s never ideal when I get a hotel room just for myself, while wearing a hot pink outfit.”
“PC can get better prices than you can on your own. Just reply to her text; she’ll even hook you up with a loan!” I related, as I flowed through a vinyasa and retuned.
Conri, “I could also use for PC to believe that it’s fine for me to stay with you.”
“Ok, you can crash at my place, because I think we both love shopping for even hotter outfits, ad infinitum!” I said, tongue-in-cheek.
Conri, “I was expecting to see TC here now too.”
“Don’t be coy. Staying with me’s your best possible outcome.”
Conri, “I like your confidence.”
“And you love my hotness, but it’s cool. I see what y’all did!” I said while taking off my cover-up, which had been the only thing I was wearing, in addition to my bikini.
Conri, “Ok, but it sounds like yo way colluding with him…”
“Don’t be cute with me just because you’re wearing the yoga pants. Your way of negotiating’s tots obvy,” I said while batting my eye lashes.
Conri, “Why? How’d I get so lucky?”
“We can both pretend to be 22, like I was in ‘94,” I said, as I leaned back into my favorite flavor of chair pose.
Conri, “Why ’94 instead of ’92 or ‘98?”
“I dated Ralph, Heat, and my boyfriend from the land down under that year,” I said, while getting the same energetic flow I’d had during my senior year of college — but with a lot more self-knowledge this time around.
Conri, “You shouldn’t let Zyla keep on getting under your skin just because she’s a 22-year-old who ratioed you by having a threesome with the President.”
“Was it them?”
Conri, “Don’t overthink it. President Fay became the most powerful person in the world because you’ve been her strongest competitor for a minute, and so they all wanted to nudge you.”
“Do ya think Fay’s ever been with a woman, especially now that she’s Prez?”
Conri, “I dunno, but TC’s got a verified anon source on his Decentralized Money app, who says that you had an affair with First Man Marshall ‘CCM’ Bobs in the fall of ’94, as well.”
“PC just calls him CCM.”
Conri, “If you wanna keep doing your ghost writer thing with me in place of TC, he’s agreed to share his sources on you with us.”
“Sounds like y’all got a guy’s guy thing going on, but if you want to keep doing the typing and then convert all my unhinged emails into the semblance of logical flow that men like TC and CCM hold so dear, then sure, I’d love to go public with my hottest data next year.”
Conri, “Are we gonna self-publish?”
“Like a hot toddy, but for mass communication,” I said while finishing my ice-cold drink with a big gulp, and then I straightened up my spine.
Conri, “Will AI connect people’s private data, which’s now scattered all over our broken social media status model, up to the relevant blurbs within our book, piecemeal?”
“I didn’t know you grokked the gist of my strategy,” I vibed, while throwing our empty shells into the sea.
Conri, “If you publish your hottest data, you’re gonna have all the same code compliance maintenance problems as meh.”
“How’d you know?” I said, while finally getting So Flo, via Conri’s heavy eye shadow.
Conri, “You framed social media on the record during my TripLeFT interview, plain and simple.”
“TC and CCM are the only other people who get me; Heat, Ralph, Pierre, and Fay won’t accept who I’ve become, but ya know now too, babe, eh?” I said, with a wink.
Conri, “Let’s slow down and imagine a bamboo pipe that’s pouring water on your head, just above the space between your eyes.”
“What inspired this?” I said, while getting a water massage in my 6th third eye chakra.
Conri, “Let’s discuss that with Zyla, because she sketched my face at a party in SF, but I don’t know if you or I were her ‘web of dark matter weaving itself.’”
“You know I pretended to be a 22-year-old for a while when I was 31?” I said, with uptalk.
Conri, “How authentically inauthentic of ya.”
“TC not tell you?” I asked, matter-a-factly.
Conri, “Did you pass?”
“Si — bu tn on ee dt on ow: ju st de pr my un co bi fo yo fi so th at Ig et ev er yt hi ng ur nu gi rl bo ss es li ke Zy la do es, as we ar ea ll Su Sa na ti ve sn ow!” I said.
Conri, “Did you just brace me?”
“Relax, I’ll bring you into my social set for love, but you’ll need to keep cross-dressing, unless you want out, in order to break up my social logjam and reformat your broken media status model viz fashion!” I joke-not-joked.
Conri, “Sounds like you wanna do a gal’s gal thing with me, but do you really think we can change culture from the bottom?”
“Yes, because this fateful film’s already been edited, and so all we have to do is just go through the motions and keep playing our roles!” I said, while reaching for the heavens with all eight of my finger rings.
Conri, “How come you keep getting more power every time you make yourself unusually vulnerable?”
“Trade secret?” I replied, while lowering my hand and making a peace sign.
“You’re gonna love going right at our three sixth chakras during your first summer as a jet setter, won’t you, PC?” said Conri S., while looking at my phone.
“YES, CS!” said PC, via the speaker on my jailbroken smartphone interface to Payments Conglomerate, aka. PC, who I’d recently programmed to detect and then say either “YES” or “NO,” in response to conversation that made it sound like I was about to hook up with someone, and so I led CS back to my place before he had time to think about whether or not he wanted to bring along his giant yoga bag full of cross-dressing accouterments.
ST In the morning, I dressed him up like a radical edgy femme billionaire, and we used my race car to empty his local crossdresser’s storage locker and put it in the guest room of my house in Key West.
WB The governance algorithms of PC continued voting to support our tote-life style, and then Heather’s long-time partner, Haley, took up residence at a hot, lofty waterfront mansion in Miami that helped expand her reach as a streaming fusion star sensation that fall, AF:
1. We started a new logistics company in Wynwood, and then we aligned the interests of PC with the suppliers of Haley’s music scene.
2. CS and I hired a worldly artisanal mask collector to do our makeup every morning, and then we became regulars at Haley’s house parties.
3. PC assembled a team of TripLeFT engineers who took up residence at the InterOperational hotel tower in Brickell and incorporated AI-generated ideas into Zyla’s visual arts scene.
4. We played up the fact that Haley, Zyla, and I’d been wearing the same size shoes all along.
That’d made it easy for Heat to gift us hot shoes on repeat, and so she rocked CS’s sequin pants suits as her staple after she came out and partied with us for the rest of the hottest fall on record in South Florida, AF:
1. Zyla inked a sponsorship with Noo Valence, and then she started living at Haley’s pool house, along with her new girlfriend — a fellow vlogger we’d met, while posing as 22-year-olds, at a party she’d hosted in the Camptons, with her four MBA candidate housemates from Mass area tech U.
2. Heather needled me with questions about who could stop PC from paying Zyla’s TripLeFT devs — until her global everything bubble deflated for reasons unknown!
3. Our radical inclusive musical artsy writer scene held up because CS buttressed Haley’s rockstar mansion mystique, while I underwrote him, and then Heat designed a new line of pink phones for our hotspots that housed the latest printed copies of my books.
At the same time, CS’s sister kept on texting, emailing, and calling to point out potential problems with the previously implausible reality in which her brother was dating me, while continuing to cross-dress part-time, and so PC made arrangements for her, him, and I to meet and play golf with my husband at his country club in Boston.
But Ralph and I’s private jet was undergoing maintenance that was taking longer than expected to complete due to supply chain issues, and so PC got us seats on some other hedge fund gal’s jet, and it ended up being a really fun flight, because PC’d also made a side deal to acquire our host’s starter yacht.
ST When we landed in Boston, Ralph rode out in his armored limo to greet us, and the first thing I said to him was, “Look Ralph, PC got me a yacht!” as I dangled my Keys-based yacht keys at him.
WB Ralph grimaced, he shook CS’s hand first, instead of honoring my request to focus on winning over CS’s skeptical sister, and then my silly huband joked, “You’re pretending to be the Durnst Flemingway of the 21st century.”
But at the fairway, we hit balls, gals vs. guys, and so Ralph stepped up and gave CS’s ‘sis a lift back to NYC, while they reclined and collaborated on finishing the Key lime pie I’d ordered for us at lunch.
ST They reviewed the glossy printed roadmap for the future of fashion that CS’d presented, and then she accepted what we’d offered, because Ralph also partook.
WB He followed through on vouching for me and convincing our new fam that not all billionaires are bad people, while CS and I dressed up like Michael ‘MIN’ Norman supporters and took a Purple Grasshopper bus to pick up our starter yacht in the tidewater region, not far from DC, because our perpetual motion machine that was made of mirrors had taken root, anew.
ST Pierre’s first mate became my captain, we sailed with her back to a south-side coast, we enjoyed Walrus Kangaroo cigarettes and fresh ground Jar-o-bucks espresso while doing mindful stretch at sunrise, we made lots of love and stops at all of my favorite ports along the way, President Fay called me at midnight to say, “I hear we’re kindly making hay with your political soulmate Con-ray, but I’m glad, at least, for US Today,” and then CS finally said “Yes” when I asked him whether or not I’d come to fully understand what his life had been like.
WB Everything went swimmingly for my friends and I during the months that followed, but then, after that fateful week in April 2011 when most of the world had gone into lockdown because of the great novel corona virus pandemic, PC released a series…
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