Barack Obama's Diary: Barefaced Chic

Dear Diary: It was with a huge sense of relief that I re-boarded Air Force One in Riyadh to fly back to the States. Mooch was seething with rage, having been pointedly ignored by all the dignitaries assembled to greet me. She had complied with most of the directions of Wahhabism, wearing a long coat, but  it was bright blue, rather than the black the locals favor, and she flatly refused to wear a  head-covering niqab, to make a point. Once we were  back in our private cabin and we  had gained take-off speed, Mooch mooned one side of the runway, cackling delightedly: " How do you like dem buttocks, Saudis."  We settled down to a meal of  ham and other delights forbidden us for the past few days and asked to be woken with a breakfast of bacon and eggs.  I fell asleep watching some old episodes of Judge Judy which Nic, my trip director,  prerecords for me.