Mary to Amber: the christening

Til: “Amber Petty” skinnedknees @ skanksnet.com.au
Fra: “Kronprinsessen” rugbyboysrule @ kissmyass.dk
30 December 2005
SV: Hey

So, did I tell you about the latest bullshit? I was reading in a magazine that that Norwegian FREAK of a couple wants to bring their chubby-cheeked, well-fed kids to MY kid’s baptism?! Can you FREAKING believe that? GOD. Then everyone of the damn photographers will be taking pictures of THEIR kids since they’re all cute and everything and that peroxide mother of theirs will try ONCE AGAIN to STEAL MY THUNDER. You should have seen the pathetic, grotesque looker me photos of her with the Rottweiler in London. She’s a jealous DRUG-ADDICT, hello! (Oh, sorry, Amber – well, she does at least prove that you can be functioning.) And have you ever tried talking to HIM!? GOD. He’s almost worse to understand than Fred, you should have seen me when they were here for lunch last month (I wore that totally unflattering Prada huge-red-rose military hemmed top – righteous!) trying to lean in all polite like, um, ok, repeat that AGAIN, please. It better NOT be true, or Fred is SO in for it, as if he couldn’t be in deeper. JESUS. Did you see that plaid skirt I wore to church for Christmas with the Chimney-In-Laws? I am SO MAD at him. I asked him to prep my clothes for the service while I took a bath since we had to let the staff off for the holiday (labour laws, time with family, blah blah, FINE OK LEAVE US HANGING THEN GOD) and what does he do but lay out the plaid skirt with black top and black boots. Which is fine, except that now I have this damn old lady JOEY POUCH derriere on my front side as if I’ve had kids. Oh. Well, crap, it’s like HELLO you can’t wear plaid on a curve and have it be flattering. GOD. Plus, the black on top and and the bottom just contributed to me looking CUT IN HALF and not having a lean line. Then Anja called and totally reminded me that just like with so much that she’s having me wear, that unflattering is the key and you have to keep people guessing by making sure your style is all over the map. I LOVE her. At least SOMEBODY in my life is doing me a freaking favour.

OK, so like the baptism. Um, look Amb, you know I love you to pieces and you’re like the only one in my life I love, for reals, right? OK, so they’ve been giving me lots of crap and here’s the deal. You can totally come. But you have to come without Mark (and without wearing the bridesmaid’s jacket even in a NEW, CUTE, HOT way – besides fushcia and beef jerky-brown aren’t really a great colour combo). Ok? Look, I’m really glad that you’re like, in love, or whatever, but seriously, he is just not who one wants to have at one’s ROYAL baptism. Ok? My kids are going to be ROYAL, Amber, you’ve got to just deal with that. I just can’t be hanging out with you and Jade’s kids at least until the divorce goes through. They are getting divorced, aren’t they? And even then, not in Denmark because of that whole stupid Bandidos thing, I don’t know, it all had to be explained to me by Per (don’t you think he looks Chinese? Haha.) Look, I’m sure he’s great, and at least he’s rolling in dough, I am VERY happy for you on that front (why don’t you take his credit card and get something really CLASSY and expensive to wear!? Oh, and NEW and not secondhand? OK?) but, look, I’ve got people to show up, OK? NOBODY gets to STEAL MY THUNDER this time! True, I don’t have to worry about Monster Chin, she’s dating some meathead who owns a gym, HELLO, do they not have used car dealers in Sweden? Then, at least you can speed in style. But that snippy, constipated Berleburg cousin and her doofus husband will be there and I’ve got to keep pretending to like them – I think I can get a new horse out of that family if I play my cards right. (Can you imagine they like in Paris – voluntarily!? WHATEVER.) I’m still trying to keep the Greeks away. God they bother me. Talk about people being the CENTER OF THEIR OWN UNIVERSE – GET A LIFE! Oh, speaking of Marie Chantal, if you don’t mind, if you’re going to come, could you also, like, DYE YOUR ROOTS? GOD, I’m sorry, but HELLO!

But before the baptism (they keep calling it a christening or name-giving ceremony, whatever, like, hello I’ve been calling him his name ever since we brought him home even if it’s NOT THE NAME YOU’LL LET ME HAVE – as if anything is wrong with Kevyn Shayne Dylan Keith. GOD.) I at least get to ROCK THE HOUSE for New Year’s at my OWN – yeah, baby – PARTY. They were all like their usual cold, weird selves about me and New Year’s and everything, then all of a sudden, it’s like a miracle, like they were hearing me all along, Chinese Per told me that they decided that it’d be great for me to have my OWN NEW YEAR’S PARTY! Oh my GOD. Just like back in Australia, except with full lead crystal cups, baby, no more plastic – and GOOD booze! Except, here’s the deal, I have to invite all these groups I’m supposed to be working with. Can you IMAGINE? Only a couple of them are fashion. Like, the MENTAL ILLNESS people have to come. WHATEVER. They’ll come and make me look good and hardworking and like I care and stuff. Isn’t that all awesome? I am going to be the ONLY host to this party. I was all, Fred, did you hear, and he was all like, a few years ago blah blah Papa blah blah feed the beast blah blah. I swear I only get HALF of what he’s saying. But anyway, just check out what I’m going to wear – it’ll be NEW. Let me know if you like it. Except for this goddamn joey pouch, I’ve really lost weight. It must drop off when you quit breast-feeding. (Two months is just TOO long!) Try and see if you can get the photos printed in New Idea or Women’s Day. You ARE still working for them, right!? Don’t tell me you’ve blown it. I need the publicity back home for the next trip. You BETTER come through.

Grr, there’s one TINY matter I can only talk to YOU about so you gotta keep it under your fascinator, OK? My SISTERS. OK well you know how we had this deal going that I’d keep those bitches in style if they all pretend we’re always been a BIG, HAPPY clan (WHATEVER!) from here on in, well, it’s getting a little pricey. Managed to skeev POP and even Susan off onto the university, but the girls don't wanna WORK. Patty’s all like Scott says NOBODY would be a plumber if they didn’t HAVE to be and we don’t HAVE to be – well, DUH, who the hell WOULD be a plumber? WHATEVER. And Jane’s been here like for nearly THREE months – um, would you like to pay RENT anytime, or would you rather remember you have CHILDREN in TASMANIA on the OTHER FREAKING SIDE OF THE PLANET? And there’s this HUGE bigger problem, Amb, and I need your advice. Like, here I am looking FABULOUS so long as there’s a reflector over me, but there are all these photos all over the place of my ugly sisters and GOD do they look OLD. I mean it Amb, older than YOU do. It reflects on me. I don’t care how old YOU look – actually that’s GOOD (sorry, it’s true), but if my sisters look like elephant hide, it makes MY GENES look bad and I wanna blame the baby’s faults on those freaking INBREDS. What do I do? My makeover cost, especially the laser resurfacing for hyperpigmentation, was basically counted as part of the wedding cost – that’s why the wedding was so freaking expensive, you don’t think those hideous heart-flower SCULPTURE-THINGIES were anything but bogan cheap do you? (That’s another story, I revisited the damn flower pictures and they were CHEAP, I’m really pissed off about that. Don’t they think I’m worth expensive flowers like DIANA GOT? When I was living in the flat on Langelinie I made DAMN SURE Fred paid for fresh orchids EVERY WEEK!) Anyway I told Fred I want my sisters done too and the fool said no. What a NERVE! I’m just afraid I’ll have to end up going down on him longer than I originally hoped. GOD, my jaw hurts just thinking about it.
Anyway, that’s why I put him in the dogbasket in the Chrissy card pix hahaha, he didn’t notice since he’s dumber than ZIGGY. Well Ziggy isn’t dumb, Ziggy’s bright for a dog. GOD, I cannot believe I let Fred talk me into a BORDER COLLIE. Could anything be more HYPER? Stop HERDING ME! NOBODY tells me where to go and what to do. WHATEVER! Plus, they needed to be in the back of the pic. EXCUSE ME, but who just popped out the kid, future of the empire blah blah? ME, THAT’S WHO! So, pardon ME! HA! The only thing really weird was that we had to have the cards printed in three languages. I have NO idea what kind of weird freak of a language we also had to put there, but WHATEVER, as long as no one around here is going to make me learn ANOTHER one. As if it wasn’t a pain in the ASS already to learn theirs. And as if I use it! JESUS.

Hey get this, check out the clever card photo one more time, Ambs – they are so brill with the photoshop I got my hands elongated AND the baby SHORTENED and made even SMALLER! (Well, I guess he IS that puny looking actually. I HATE breastfeeding – I swear it’s so UNNATURAL. But it’s too bad they couldn’t get rid of his pudgy Donaldson nose.) All that re-working of the baby makes my hands look even longer. I can’t help having fat little hams, and GOD it’s tiring hiding them from woeful Fred. He’s looking smaller and paler all the time. I’m always like ok, step away from the bottle, Fred, GOD. I’m under orders from my advisers (my new reps in Sydney, not Chinese Per) to always look more wan and pale than Fred, in case it looks as though HE’s doing any being-a-daddy type work. So I can get the kudos. My GOD can I get any whiter?! But my reps say it’ll help my Saint Diana/Mother Teresa image. I do look like a freaking CORPSE, but that’s cause Fred looks like some hot bitch dragged him through the cess pits of Calcutta backwards and then through a hedge and dumped him in his own puddle, where he can look at MY reflection, THANK YOU, cause that’s where he’d be if he did get busy with some hot bitch! GOD.

And here’s a little advice, Amb - you know what I’ve realized after all this time? That you only have to pretend to enjoy fellatio (that’s the classy word for it) until you get The Ring. Then you can start bossing them around! Isn’t that killer? Try it with Mark, I’ll be it’ll work. Jade probably stopped doing it and got all wrapped up in her kids. WHATEVER. You CANNOT take your eye off the ball or they will notice and not let you boss them around! I mean it, Ambs. Anyway, I gotta do the fellatio thing for another year or so. Patty’ll take ages to fix up. Sorry, Ambs, you’re way down the queue. Hell, I’m a bit worried that once it gets down to you, MY REAL RING will be what’s at stake! Not up for that, now that I’m a princess. Marriage changed EVERYTHING. GOD Fred's gullible! Now to break him down for the sissies’ plastic surgery. Everything is always on MY shoulders!

Happy Freaking New Year to Me!

M

PS. Don’t forget to get an appointment at the colourist. You CANNOT embarrass me, ok? I MEAN it! Or else you will find the royal bouncer does NOT have your name on his magic list. Ta!