I haven’t had this much fun since 1992 when Bill was elected president. We all knew the Secretary of State was a plum job, but nobody filled us in on the little details.
Three words. Party. Party. Party.
I’d love to say that being Secretary of State means a party every night in another country, but it’s just not so. I have to fly between countries so that gives me a night to sober up for the next party.
Take Colombia. Please.
What a rock fest. South Americans know how to put on a good show. Wine. Women. Song. But not necessarily in that order. No wonder the Secret Service agents got themselves in trouble. That whole country is sinful.
And tops on my list of party places in 2012.
Take the Irish. Please.
The only way those people can feel good about their miserable existence is to hit the bottle. Everybody there carries their own bottles. No littering, either. If you can’t drink you can’t be in politics.
What makes my job really, really fun is drinking a man under the table. What a hoot!