I finally understand Paris

I was recently holed up in the fabulous Peninsula Hotel in Beverley Hills.

Note: I go from lifestyles of the rich and famous, to those of the poor and homeless on a regular basis.

After asking Jason, my lovely hotelier all the important questions - is breakfast included and how does the shower work - I set off to catch up with a good friend of mine Matty Meyerson of plopculture.blogspot.com.

Somewhat disorientated I asked at the front desk if my directions were correct.

“Well, Ms. Gilltrap, we actually have a complimentary driver, would you mind being driven?”

Um, let me think about it. How does, “Hell no, sound?”

Sitting comfortably in the back of my black Rolls Royce with my lovely driver up front, I flew past the many stores of Rodeo Drive actually understanding Paris Hilton for the first time in my life. If I had this life, I would totally be a shallow, stupid bi-atch with a penitent for small dogs too.

Arriving back at the hotel sometime after, I returned to my room to find something quite odd - either there was a new brand of luxury linen called ‘AG’ or they had had the pillowcase embroidered with my initials.

Answer: they had embroidered. I had it wrapped to go on check out. Hee hee hee!