I'm woman enough to admit when I've made a mistake, and today I offer my apology for any misunderstanding I may have caused.
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Let me explain. My husband and I are blessed. Really. We are members of the very first generation to have attained perfection. We are brilliant, beautiful, cashed-up and live in the greatest of all possible places: Me Valley. When you reflect on all that we are, it is nothing short of a miracle that we also have three perfect children, the mirrors of that very perfection.
So when we are going about our daily lives, every minute filled with important, crucial activities, like Pilates, or yoga, or mountain biking, or sitting around downtown with the cell and a latte, it may seem to an outsider that we don't care about anyone else. Nothing could be further from the truth. It's not that we don't care, but more that we merely don't acknowledge your existence. Why should we care about you? You're not us.
Let me give you an example. The other day, as I was running a senior-citizen bus off the road, I was on the cell with my personal assistant, going over some last-minute details for our upcoming monthly wedding anniversary celebration in the South of France. Well, you would think I'd get some respect from the bus driver, knowing how important my phone call was. But, no. He calls the police, and I'm hung up for nearly fifteen minutes, explaining who I am, and why I was driving on the sidewalk, and how I am able to talk on the cell, drink my latte and scream out the window at the same time. My donation to the police fireworks fund made that little messy problem evaporate, but I'd lost precious minutes, and they're gone forever.
So I'm sorry. Very, very sorry that some of you still don't understand that you don't count. Unless you're a member of my support staff, or you've somehow flown under the radar and are actually worth knowing (i.e. a future support staffer), please. Keep. Your. Distance.
My family eats only the finest foods, drinks only the finest imported waters, breathes only the most perfectly filtered air. As my home plumbing plant engineer will confirm, our feces are odorless.
Forgive me then, please, if you've misunderstood. How could we hurt any of you, when you aren't even there?
Hugs and kisses!