A Very Genovian Summer

I know, it’s been ages since I last posted.

But as you can imagine, a LOT has been going on: Final exams. Saying goodbye to all my friends here at school and moving out of the dorms for summer break. The thing coming out in the press about Grandmere and Mel Gibson (you’d think I’d stop being shocked by her love affairs by now.  But she still never ceases to surprise me).  

But all that’s behind me now, and it’s SUMMER!   And I’m out of school, and finally home!

Well, not in the loft.   I was there for a little while. But then because of the thing with Grandmere, Dad was like, "You need to come help me do some reputation repair."              

So I only got to hang at the loft with Mom and Rocky and Mr. G for a couple of days before I had to jet off to Genovia, where I’m probably going to be stuck for the rest of the summer.

I’d say it wasn’t fair, but I know better than that by now.  It’s all part of the princess thing.   It comes with the tiara.  

I mean, yeah, so okay, Lilly gets to spend the summer in the city doing a fantastic internship with the New York Times.  

And Tina gets to do one in the Village with St. Vincent’s Hospital.

And Boris is going to be playing in the orchestra that accompanies Shakespeare in the Park (which isn’t that great if you ask me because it’s going to be hot and I’ve seen how he sweats when he plays.   I asked Tina if he has to wear a tux and she says for at least one of the plays he has to a wear a troubadour costume.   Ha!   I might just fly back for that one.   Boris in tights?   Yes, please.   I might never die laughing.   Or throw up.   I’m not sure which).

Lana, of course, was too busy partying this past semester to look for an internship, so she has to spend the summer working in her dad’s office (she’s lucky she didn’t get stuck in summer school, repeating her course work), since that was the only thing she could get.

She said not to worry, though, she’s got a friend from Penn whose parents are going to be in Europe for the summer, so they can use his house in the Hamptons to party every weekend.

Oh, Lana! It’s good to know some people never really change, I guess (she says she has three more years to “get serious”).  

Shameeka is the one everyone is jealous of, though.   She got an actual paying job.   AT THE WHITE HOUSE.

Yes, we all hate her now (ha, not really.   I mean, really she got a job but the White House, but no, we don’t really hate her).

I’m the only one who will be stuck working for her dad (oh, wait"¦well, besides Lana), supervising the opening of the new Royal Genovian Health and Wellness Awareness Center (formerly the Prince Christoffe Casino and Hotel).

But in a fiscal crisis (the current global economic recession has hit Genovia hard.   Practically no one can afford to come to a mile-long Mediterranean resort paradise to gamble, relax, sail their yacht, and shop anymore), Dad says you have to think outside the box.   We can’t just depend on tourist income from cruise ship day trippers (not to mention the fact that the cruise ships are polluting our waters and killing our reefs).              

But the one thing everyone needs, recession or not, is healthcare.  

That’s how I got the idea for the Health and Wellness Center!   Why not make Genovia, in addition to being a vacation destination, a place where you can have all your healthcare needs met as well?  

Need a complete routine physical along with an MRI and CAT scan to check for cancerous tumors? Check into our luxurious and beautiful wellness center (and spa), get all of that done in one day, enjoy a romantic sunset over the Mediterranean, have a cocktail and dinner, play some baccarat, maybe do some shopping in the morning after brunch, play some golf, get your results and your prescriptions, and you’re done!  

Bingo.   Genovia is suddenly the healthcare destination of Europe, for anyone who is worried about that mole or lump but doesn’t want to wait around in an icky doctor’s office, and wants to throw in a vacation, too.

I always knew my chronic hypochondria was going to pay off someday.    I got a genius business idea because of it!

The entire Saudi Arabian royal family has already checked in.   The princesses are running around, getting their mammograms, while the princes are having their colonoscopies. I’ve laid out a few complimentary copies of "Ransom My Heart."   Just enough for the ladies to start fighting over.   If they want more, they’ll be able to find them in the gift shop.   Hey, I want to make sure Greenpeace gets its cut!

Of course, to make up for Mel Gibsongate, we’ve invited 50 low income families for medical screening, treatment, and pampering, as well.   Grandmere is fit to be tied about it.   She keeps asking, "Who let those people in here?"   Dad has to remind her that there are seven little Gibsons whose parents are getting a divorce because of her, and that even the Pope can’t believe what she did.

But Grandmere is just all, "I’m not the one who told him to make Lethal Weapon 4." She refuses to take any responsibility whatsoever for her actions, as usual.   She won’t even admit to having broken Mel’s heart, and being the reason why he’s taken up with that other woman.  

It’s all just so typically Grandmere.

But in the end—and not to be selfish, or anything—it’s all worked out great for me. Pavlov   Medical is partnering with the Royal Genovian Health and Wellness Awareness Center, and is the firm supplying all the medical equipment.  

So I get to see my boyfriend all break!

I really think it’s going to be the best summer ever.      

Oops, I have to go.   The royal Saudi princesses are calling me to join them for pedicures.   They want to know if there’s a sequel to "Ransom My Heart."   I might make one up just for them. They’re going to need it.   They have no idea how grumpy their husbands are going to be when they get out of those colonoscopies.    Dad got one the other day so he could assure the princes it was nothing to worry about….

Oh my God, I couldn’t believe how cranky he was.  

Of course, I shouldn’t have let him order those chicken wings from the palace menu when he woke up.  I don’t know what I was thinking!  But that’s what he said he wanted.  Never again.  In fact, I’m thinking about having them taken off the menu.

Bye for now!

Love,

 

Mia

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