"Uhhh, I'm like, busy…"

Hi everyone! Sorry about the lack of postings. No, I am not dead… I just have “company” (that’s what my mother calls guests). It is definitely going to be a full house over here this week. My best friend, Jenny, and my other friend, Kelly, arrived yesterday and we have been very busy eating Frito pie, gossiping about every human being on the face of the earth, pretending to be supportive about Gracie’s flippant decision to move to New York (don’t worry, it’s not going to happen on my watch), watching YouTube videos about disgusting South American bugs (bot flies) that can burrow into your head (so gross), laughing hysterically and then we rounded out the day with a big cry fest… just because.

Jenny and Kelly got all dolled up last night and went out to meet Jenny’s Uber cool cousin, Sara, who was shooting an Internet piece for Condé Nast magazine at her friend’s restaurant, Au Passage. Sara is the go-to-girl in Paris for all things foodie. Paris by Mouth is the website you want to check out if you want honest reviews about Parisian restaurants, wine bars, cheese shops, bakeries, chocolate shops and the like. Sara gives knowledgeable and no doubt fun (because she is Jenny’s cousin) food and wine tours of Paris through Paris By Mouth. Check it out HERE. I am forever indebted to Sara for one recommendation alone. Sarah turned me on to a restaurant called Verjus just around the corner from my apartment that serves, hands down, the best fried chicken east of America.… So that’s that.

This evening, I am having my friend Sally and her daughter Chloe over for drinks. You might remember them from my blog posting, My Morning With the Chicest Family in Paris. Very excited to see them.

Tomorrow morning my friend Debbie arrives to my apartment with her 17-year-old daughter, Kelsey, who is a model and will be force-fed my green juice concoctions whether she likes it or not. It makes your eyes bright! However, Debbie will not be allowed through my front door unless she smuggled in her suitcase my requested Nestlé Toll House refrigerated peanut butter cookie dough.

Tomorrow afternoon, we are going to go visit the newly remodeled Picasso Museum. After the museum, I will have my weekly massage. I call it the Hour of Power. I spend this hour with the masseuse meditating, nearly levitating, and solving the world’s problems… Mostly mine.

Thursday, I am meeting with documentary film maker, Bo Landin, the CEO of Scandinature Films to start shooting a little piece about ALS because it is “the IT disease.”

Thursday evening, Jenny has a hot date with a French guy (No, not from Tinder!) So I will have to spend a few hours reassuring her that what happens in Paris stays in Paris. No harm, no foul.

Friday, my brilliant doctor, Dr. Paul Allen Cox from the Institute of Ethnomedicine, is flying into Paris and we will meet up at my apartment to discuss his brilliance. :-)

My Yolanda (@yolandahfoster) is sick in Singapore where her husband David (@officialdfoster) is the new judge of Asia’s Got Talent. Yolanda is in the hospital there so I will have to talk to her on the phone for 20 to 30 hours on FaceTime to make her laugh and cheer her up.

After that, I have to text Yolanda’s daughter, Gigi (@gigihadid), and congratulate her on becoming the new face of Maybelline makeup. Watch the video HERE. I cried.

Today we are making lasagna with three cheeses and we will continue my juice obsession now that I have found purple kale in Paris.

 
So, clearly, I cannot write a blog this week! :-) :-) :-)

In my absence this week, I have an idea… Why don’t you check out my new favorite blog, Manger, because it is waaaaay better than my blog and I’m not afraid to admit it. I don’t get jealous about chicks with yachts, diamonds and Juvéderm… No no no. I get jealous about chicks with old French farmhouses filled with hordes of children, a pack of dogs, warm delicious food, plenty of wine, pink dining room walls, and a gigantic wild garden. I suggest you pop over to her blog HERE and get lost in it for a while… I don’t blame you if you never come back to my blog. Hell, I may never come back to my blog.

A toute!