Wednesday, November 10, 2010

From Riches to Ragtops: UPDATE: To Tatas

UPDATE: A RIGHTNETWORK Exclusive Reflection of Lady M backing into a Tata Nano. I think you will all “Like” the crap out of it!

Reporting from the way far East, this is your cub reporter, MOTUS.

cub reporter-full copy

Back to you Chet.

Oh oh! I think I might need to dust off and enhance my Curriculum Vitae. When Lady M reads the reviews from the Indian leg of our Metallica Mystery tour, I might end up another statistic in the endless unemployment line.

Can you believe this?  All of the Indian journalists are telling the truth about our trousseau. Where do these foreigners get off speaking truth to power?

“Michelle tried to follow the 1950s’ dressing theme, which is now in (but) some of her outfits were quite hideous. The black full-sleeved top and high-waist skirt she wore during her Raj Ghat visit didn’t work at all.”



What’s not working here? The Walmart pin (made in China?, The  black spandex top from Walmart (made in China)? The retro, reverse box pleat abstract print skirt made from a shower curtain from Walmart (made in China)… wait: I’m catching the drift – international jealousy. That is hideous.

I wonder if this mystical transformation to a short-sleeved version with indigenous bangles works any better for smarty-pants?


Jamal Shaikh , editor, Men’s Health, says, “The long gown that she wore to the state banquet made her look like a giant mermaid. It wasn’t exactly flattering for her frame.”

x610.jpsolitareWell I’ll be damned - fish scales! I would have sworn that was reptilian skin. So anyway, Mr. Jamal Shaikh, what you clearly don’t understand is that nothing is exactly flattering to Lady M’s frame. Work with us here. That’s your job.

Designer Anupama Dayal says, “She looked elegant, yet sexy in sharply tailored, dresses in Paris. Over here, her slightly billowy skirt seemed to form a paunch on her stomach.”

article-0-0BEF640A000005DC-622_306x697 paunchy

Ya’ think?

This is very unprofessional reporting. What we’re dealing with here is a hostile Indian press, cherry picking little snippets of the truth in order to make the story fit their point. For example, not one comment about this outfit:


Upon review of the entire stiuation, I don’t think I need to update my CV after all. By current administration standards, I give myself a B+

Meanwhile, one day in Indonesia and we’ve already created an international incident. Here’s the situation as clearly as I can relate it: Lady M is in a diplomatic line shaking diplomatic hands when along comes some guy from the Neanderthal period who doesn’t believe in shaking hands with unclean women, or something.  Never-the-less, Lady M’s personal charms and magnetic powers suck him into her vortex and force him to press flesh.


So then, Mr. conservative Muslim goody-goody tries to explain this gross breach of propriety to all of his loyal and, presumably, likewise flesh obsessed followers:

“I tried to prevent [being touched] with my hands but Mrs. Michelle held her hands too far toward me [so] we touched," Tifatul Sembiring told tens of thousands of followers on Twitter, the Associated Press reports.

I don’t know what actually happened, since I was all wrapped up in my Mylar snuggie and couldn’t get a clear reflection. But on YouTube, he does look like he’s under some kind of spell. So clearly, our protocol chief completely screwed up. She’s the one who is going to need to update her resume - she’s so fired.

Butt that incident was nothing compared to our trip to the Mosque.

article-1328351-0BFE765A000005DC-739_634x508Does Michelle really need to wear this babushka? Because as you can see, she isn’t happy about it.”

Although to be fair, the ragtop is the least of our issues here:


*Sigh* That Mylar pouch is not working out as well as I’d hoped. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a current resume available. Any HR professionals out there available for a little personal coaching?

Looks like we’re landing in Seoul now. At least I can enjoy some bulgogi and kimchi before getting tossed into the soup line.

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