Dear Diary,

No apologies for not having written in such a long time. I’ve been busy doing very important government things, like dinners, speeches and just being sexy and awesome.

Anyway, yesterday I went to fire up a bone, and I realized that I was totally out of weed. I drank a bunch of Cristal to hammer down the Jones, but I still longed for the herbal buzz. I called my assistant, Lance, and asked him to score me some shit and drop it off at the house.

He said, “Not necessary, Nan. I’m here at “˜Occupy Oakland’ and there more weed here than there is corn in Iowa. Bullhorns, signs, drums, chanting, plenty of free food! Come on down!”

I had seen news reports of those wonderful people demonstrating in Oakland, and it reminded me of my days at Woodstock. Freakin’ groovy! I put on my granny glasses, my tie dye shirt and bellbottom pants. I did my hair in braids, strapped on my sandals and headed for Oakland.

As I approached the protest, I could hear the drums and chants. I could also smell the herb and the sweat. It was awesome; it was 1969-Yasgur’s Farm awesome. I stopped at a shop to liberate flowers for my hair. My dainties were already damp.

I walked near the awesome drummers and immediately met a fellow named Aquarius. He had a star on each cheek and three more on his forehead. He gave me a few hits of whatever the primo shit was in his bong and brought me to the center of the drum circle. That must have been really good weed, because I haven’t danced like that since I danced topless with Wavy Gravy at Woodstock. I pulled up my shirt and let the crowd see my awesome tits. They cheered; it was totally awesome.

Aquarius took me to his tent where I dropped some of the Woodstock brown acid, snorted some quality blow and played “Hide the Salami” with several of his friends ““ big guys, all, if you catch my drift. Must have been a half dozen of them. It was totally freakin’ awesome.

Lance drove me back to my place, because walking was uncomfortable (As I said, there were at least six of them, maybe more). I threw back a few Percodans and a Valium or two in order to relax, so now I’m just sipping Cristal thinking about how spontaneous and groovy those beautiful people were. God bless them.

Wait ……. I hear loud noises outside my window. A bullhorn? Drums?

Holy shit! They’re demonstrating outside my house! They’re screaming “Eat the Rich! Pelosi’s a Rich Bitch!” WTF? Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think this is freakin’ “Oakland?” I have to stop writing, because I’m calling the cops to have these lawless pieces of shit removed from my goddamned property.

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