I've received my first donation (for the book) so now I can write. How it came about is funny: I received a random email from a woman who said:

"I just realized I spent a long flight home from Jackson Hole next to a very high-maintenance women who was no other than Bonnie Fuller. I am an avid reader and gossip whore and I found your blog while researching today. I love what is on your site about your book..How can I get it?"

Ask and ye shall receive. Another, hopefully satisfied, reader.
Soo, you all know what a huge Ellen DeGeneres fan I am. Not only do I find her hilarious, intelligent, courageous and generous, but she's an incredible role model and the charity work she has done for her hometown of New Orleans is nothing short of staggering. Natch, you all must also have gleaned what a type-A, control freak I am when it comes to my appearance, beauty regimes, exercise rituals and eating habits.

And of course I wanted to be in stellar shape for my rapidly approaching holiday to Italy. (Think of all the pictures I will have to see for years to come. Sister needs to look her most fabulous.) When the pounds weren't shedding as quickly as I wanted them to, despite 6 days a week of 60-minute cardio sessions, twice weekly tennis lessons and 3-4 days of weight training (not to mention an hour of stretching every single day), I decided to try something rather drastic, a la Ellen.

Before the Oscars, Ellen endured this as a last-ditch effort to shed those unwanted inches. And from her mouth to my ears, what she says is the gospel to me. She said that this actually worked and that the inches actually stayed off! Why is this not the hottest thing out there? Tyra Banks has also admitted to doing it. As Anna Nicole's autopsy proves, those diet drugs will kill ya. So I'm booked for Thursday. And if it really works on me, as it did on Ellen, then I will definitely spread the word far and wide. What else?

In a middle-of-the-night-pee-break haze Sunday, I stumbled into my bathroom, fell into the tub and landed on my tailbone. Swear to god, I was thisclose to cracking my head open. Not only am I the world's biggest klutz, but I somehow managed to basically fall like this: back of calves hit side front of tub, ass falls on top, back bends at odd angle, I topple over backwards and land on tailbone. Crash. It took me a minute to recover and I am still sore. I think my unbelievable flexibility helped me in this situation. The silver lining? Deep tissue massage Thursday.

In other news, hmm, not much. I'm off to Italy Saturday, with a 7-hour-layover at JFK. Soo if any of my fabulous friends with cars want to come say hi, put it in your day books.

I have a blind date this week with an older man. Older men are where it's at for me now.

I had a dream that the maid ruined my La Mer.

My tennis game is improving, though not so much so that dad won't whoop my ass in Positano. My pro sent me home today because the first swivel motion I made caused me to wince in pain in light of the tailbone.

I need good, fiction, paperback recs for my trip, so please comment if you've read anything great lately.

Oh, and a pic of my godson and me, just so you don't accuse me of being inhuman. Us high-maintenance, tough-talking fashionistas have soft sides too.

That's all.