Dear Diary: I woke this morning with an overwhelming feeling of relief. At last night's state banquet for French President Francois Hollande, we had to seat him between Michelle and myself. I made numerous attempts to engage him in conversation but he grew more withdrawn with each question. "How is your lady friend Valerie Rotweiler? I asked"Trerweiler," he said.
"Rotweiler... Trerweiler...whatever. We are sorry she couldn't make it."
Knowing the French are more open-minded than we are, I ventured: Why didn't you bring your mistress instead?
"That is... how you say? None of your business" replied the ill-tempered Frog. I could feel an anxiety attack coming on.
I signalled Valerie Jarrett by catching her eye and tugging my ear. She immediately went to Dr Rink's table and arranged for a men's room rendezvous for Rink and I. I slipped away quietly. Rink was waiting and quickly reassured me, as only he can, and gave me a sedative to dissolve under my tongue. Hollande returns home today. Yipeee! But enough about me.
