Storm Center

Fiorella is totally fascinated by the book-of-the-month type roll-out of Trump tell-alls this year, not only because each one is more sensational than the last, but also because the publishing business is being fueled to overflowing by the antics of a man who doesn't read. The latest expose, Stormy Daniels' book, has Trump by the--uh--short hairs, and he can't deny she's seen "everything" without fully "revealing" himself on a Twitter post, which would get him banned forever.
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As you know, Fiorella's been caught in a downward coil during the past two weeks, but this afternoon has been such a wonderful upturn that she was even able to catch up on her morning exercises--the plies while she counts to ten in Russian, the standing push-ups while she counts to ten in French, the piano practice, which she doesn't count out. She'll start lifting weights again tomorrow if the sunshine stays in her life.
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Fio fell asleep mid-afternoon on the couch and, no doubt inspired by the Stormy Daniels paragraph she'd wriitten earlier in the day, woke up thinking about how nice it would be if some filthy rich guy paid her off, say, about $250,000, for keeping her mouth shut about something she didn't know she knew about. Oh, and she'd like the payoff to be under the table so she wouldn't have to pay taxes on it.