On Monday, I appeared on CNN with socialist “senator,” Bernie Sanders. He yelled at me a lot, interrupted me constantly, and kept asking about chains. I don’t own any chains. We have snow tires, but I’m sure Vermont just hands chains out because it’s a totally socialist state. I was very tired, so truthfully, I wasn’t at my best. Fox and The Blaze by Glenn Beck wrote some awfully nice things about my performance, which was not surprising, given how much they love me. All Sanders wanted to talk about was education, and all I wanted to talk about was how horrible Obummer is at running this great country. Wolf Slitzer was mean to me. Everyone is mean to me. Except Fox and Glenn Beck.
Marcus and I returned from Russia Sunday evening. The primary reason was my CNN debate, but we really needed to get out of the country. Oh holy God. Diary, I think I may have killed Vladimir Putin’s dog.
It’s not my fault! You know how I am about my shoes, and this huge black thing kept licking my feet. All I kept thinking was what does Russian dog spit do to Chanel spectator pumps. I tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn’t leave me alone. Marcus wasn’t even there – he went to the Bolshot ballet to talk to dancers. He hates ballet. Then Vlad served this weird pink soup and all this vodka, and I don’t know what happened.
Vlad kept smooching this dog, and I kept wishing he would smooch me, but I think he has a “thing” for this dog and I got so drunk and OH HOLY JESUS! I ummmmm, okay, look it wasn’t on purpose. I don’t think.
I did win that debate, I did. Marcus let me wear a cowboy shirt he found in his closet, because we had to leave our luggage in the hotel. I felt empowered wearing that shirt. Marcus said he got it for me as a present, and when I asked him why it smelled like Drakkar Noir, he said something about the guy who sold it to him.
Did you know Lenin has his own tomb? That’s where I woke up. Vlad had the welcoming party Saturday night at a house in Moscow and Sunday morning, really early, I woke up in front of Lenin’s tomb. I had to Google who he was. I am very glad I decided to carry my Hermes alligator tote, because I probably would have been arrested carrying around Koni’s severed head. I TOLD THAT DOG TO STOP LICKING MY SHOES. I have no idea what I did, I don’t even know where the rest of the dog is. Hopefully, I buried it. If not, I am not going to be able to ever return to Russia, which would be bad since I want to work for Vlad when I
quit leave congress.
Russian vodka is evil. American vodka is much nicer, and Marcus made me a huge pitcher of American vodka martinis. I’ve had 6. Vodka is made out of turnips or roots of some kind. I cannot go to Russian prison. Oh holy God, I cannot go to Russian prison. Maybe they’ll just think the dog ran away. That’s what Geronimo’s owners thought.
Why is this happening to me? All I want is to rule the country as Queen of Godlandia, as Jesus intends me to do. In fact, Jesus spoke to me right after I woke up at Lenin’s tomb. He told me that the evil socialist Sanders would try to discredit me and hurt me and yell at me, and if I just kept silently praying, everything would be okay. And it was! I wish Jesus would tell me what to do about Putin’s dog.
Maybe I didn’t kill it. Maybe that wasn’t a head in my tote. I mean, it was really dark and I had so much of that pink soup, maybe I had a bowling ball in there. A really furry bowling ball. I’m a nice person!!!! No one understands how difficult it is to be me. I’m the only person who tells the truth about Obummer’s $200 million a day trip to Indiana, and his plan to make all the girls in America retarded with that wart vaccine, and how no one can whip this country back into shape like me.
OH! And after all the worrying about my shoes, I spilled pink soup all over them. It dried really dark.
I need a nap. Diary, it was a bowling ball. I mean, no, but that’s what I’ll say if anyone asks.
Here’s to 2016! Love, Queen Michele, future ruler of Godlandia!!! Stupid dog. x0x0x0x0x0x0x0