Say arrivederci to reality.
You are taking pinpoint turns on the corniches in your ’69 Alfa Romeo Spider. Your Hermès scarf whips in the wind as you lose yourself in the azure skies of the French Riviera. You’ve arrived in Monte Carlo and soon pull up to the Grand Casino. You slip out of your convertible as bulbs flash all around you. You know how to make an entrance so you reach into your pocket for your Calibri and light up your Biscotti Brand pre–rolled joint as you wave to your admirers.
The concierge greets you with an ashtray and a flute of Prosecco. You casually hand him a Ben Franklin or two and ask to be led to the craps table. The croupier admires your artfully rolled Biscotti joint and you offer him a puff. The entire casino is intoxicated by your air of defiance and class. You let your chips ride on black simply because it matches your Ferragamo wingtips. You win big of course because winning is all you know. A platinum blonde sashays her way into your arms and flashes her diamond encrusted cigarette holder. You scoff at her Capri 100 and place one of your Biscotti joints in her holder instead. She is forever indebted to you and shows her gratitude in spades as you retreat to your penthouse suite. You lose yourselves amongst smoke serpents and the alluring stench of money and Chanel No. 5…
Like a punch to the gut you, wake up on your deck in Burbank and curse the leaf-blower out front for awakening you from your dream again. You desperately reach for another Biscotti and prepare yourself for another trip abroad.
