« TLC Travel CD - First Cuts | Main | Summer Torture »

June 04, 2007

Sex with Millionaires

Sex with Millionaires
By Harley

I woke the other night to the smell of our dog Fez, back from a late-night date with a skunk.

FLASHBACK: the year, 1995. The place, upstate New York, the country estate of a guy we’ll call . . . Henry. The smell, skunk.

I’m in Henry’s bed, wedged between Henry and Henry’s dog—we’ll call him Spot. It’s our first night together. Henry’s snoring. Spot’s smelling. If I move, I will wake Henry, and I think I prefer Henry asleep to Henry awake. I love Spot, but Henry’s butler has bathed him in tomato juice to neutralize his skunk smell, which serves only to put me off tomato juice.

Oh: a tape plays on the estate’s sound system. Billy Joel. Set on “repeat.” I don’t know about you, but if I never again have sex to the tune of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” I’ll die happy.

It wasn’t the worst night of my life—not like when someone’s just died, or you’re vomiting bad oysters—just bad enough to put me off casual sex.

Henry was a blind date, first in L.A., and continuing in New York, where I’d gone for a silent meditation retreat with the Sufis. Before I met up with the Sufis, Henry took me to Bianca Jagger’s 50th birthday party, then upstate to the small town we’ll call—Weekend Mansions. Where we drove Henry’s roadster to tour the neighbors’ new house, the neighbors being Tommy Mottola and Mariah Carey. Then we ran out of celebrities to hang with, and, it being our 4th or 5th date, ended up in bed. With Spot.

I liked Henry. I’d have liked him more if he weren’t a mega-millionaire mogul. Money and power can make some people—not everyone—so used to deferential treatment that they become slightly creepy. They see others, to quote my friend Larry, as either clients or servants. I, as girl of the week, fell into the servant class. Henry had no children, no ex-wives even, nobody but Spot to tell him the truth, which, that night was: no one can buy off a skunk.

Eventually I extricated myself, inch by inch, from Henry and Spot without waking them. I found blankets, settled onto a chaise, put a pillow over my ear, and dozed. The next day, I took a train north to the Sufis, where I slept in a sleeping bag in a hut on a mountain. I never saw Henry—or Spot—again.

So this week, laying awake smelling Fez, I figured out the epilogue to my Henry story: I no longer want to be a rich. I don’t know when it happened, but I’m happier explaining to my first-grader why we don’t have a yacht, putting green or personal lagoon like her friend Iayn than I am explaining why there are people in L.A. living out of shopping carts.

The only way I could justify serious wealth (as opposed to “our kids go to private school but the girls share a bedroom” wealth) would be to engage in serious philanthropy. Philanthropy’s a lot of work. I’d rather write novels. Plus, giving your kids values when they’ve got trust funds is harder than it looks (ask Paris Hilton.) Yes, I’d like to buy my husband more free time and a new septic tank—and okay, paint the house and fix the roof. But I don’t want a butler.

It’s scary to admit this. Radical. Even un-American. Like, if I’m not consciously upwardly mobile, I’ll end up homeless. Waiting tables again. Lightning will strike.

But here goes: My name is Harley and I have more than enough money. Thank you.

Happy Monday!


TrackBack URL for this entry:

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Sex with Millionaires:


I heard on another site that the best thing to remove skunk from dog is.........floral scented douche!
That poor lady had a very large dog and had to clear out the stock of several Wal Mart's to get enough and got alot of very strange looks and comments!
Good luck with that!
(sex? what's that? My memory is fading....it's been so long, I started the BAVC Born Again Virgins Club!)

Killer first line you've got there - life is stinkier than fiction, isn't it?

Fortunately, you met your husband soon after, and you are richer for that.

What a great blog - so many lessons in one witty story.

Rita - you always crack me up. And that is another TLC Bumper Sticker too.

Now - speaking of Skunks and other things that stink - The Sopranos last night. Half brilliance, and half complete crap. Don't worry, no spoilers - but the entire Melfi subplot - bullshit. Just Saying.

I have found with many people I meet, that I'd rather spend time with their dog.

My dogs don't encounter skunks, we mostly have bunnies around here. But they do enjoy finding dead things in the grass and rolling in them. That smell is just as bad, I think.

Maybe I should go buy some douches.

With regards to philanthropy, Andrew Carnegie said his greatest joy, after making millions, was finding a way to give his money away. Praise Carnegie Libraries!!!!

Then again, money isn't everything - but it seems like the only thing when you do not have it.

I'm still trying to get my head around this blog....Sufis? Henry? Tommy Mottola? Sounds like there were plenty of skunks to go around.....

.....I can't imagine ever reaching the level of wealth where I would own more than one house, etc. All that work. I have barely enough time to manage my career/family/house here. Another one? And those parties? And all that shopping? Where do people find the time?

All I want is what JK Rowling described as the advantages of her wealth - to never have to worry about another bill again.

Ah, bliss.

Henry's attitude is one of the drawbacks of being rich and famous....it's why I've always avoided those things....:)

I wanna hear more about the Sufis.

And I share the Billy Joel opinion, Harley.

As for the Melfi story? As a member of a family of shrinks: It's bang on.

The Sufi religion is really old--I mean, reeeeeeeeally old, older than Judaism and Christianity and, well, Scientology. They like to dance and meditate and whirl and write groovy poetry (see Rumi.) It was the poetry that got me. I saw a Rumi poem on a newsletter, and thought, "whatever they're selling, I'll buy" and few to New York for my first Sufi retreat, on a whim. Sort of a spiritual blind date.

Okay, I'm off to buy floral-scented douche. Five days and two baths later, Fez is still skunky.

Oh, yes, the Sopranos. It's going to be tricky, wrapping things up by next week, but I'm still hopeful there will be as Happy Ending for all.

Harley, you never fail to leave me astonished with your frankness. So enjoyable. I think your wealth is in the life you lead.

How do you pronounce "Iayn"?

Harley, try the Baking Soda Cure.

Place Fez in tub of warm water. Mix baking soda and water to form a paste. Plaster the poor guy with it (avoid eye area) until it dries. Rinse and repeat.

If your drain clogs, pour some vinegar down the hole and stand back. It'll gurgle like a science fair volcano from the Fifth Grade, but it won't explode. Well, it shouldn't, anyway.

I'm blogging about the Sopranos next Monday after the finale, if I can see through my tears. I thought last night was ALL brilliance -- David Chase may actually have the balls to end the show with Tony in a body bag where he belongs.

So here I was, waking up this morning thinking art in America was dead as of a week from today, to find this AMAZING blog. Nothing I've ever read better captures that icky morning after feeling with the wrong guy, and so deftly and lightly. Harley, no wonder you got a STARRED REVIEW IN PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY.

As for the desire for one's own lagoon, I have to confess I haven't eveolved past that yet. I would still like one. But then, I can't imagine a more fun and rewarding career than philanthropy. Hanging in Davos with Bill Clinton and Bono and Angelina Jolie -- I could handle it.

Michele? You've woken up next to Bill Clinton, Bono and Angelina Jol--oh, I see now. Sorry. Read that wrong.

You don't have to be rich to be a philanthropist or devote your life to good works. Example: Dr. Paul Farmer, my personal hero. He's cuter than Bill and Bono, too, though admittedly, he's not even close to Angie.

Sorry if this is a hijack. I just namedrop Dr. Paul every chance I get.

Well, I would like a pool(and a pool boy who looks like Sean Bean), but I'd settle for travel(first class once in a while) and being with family and friends as often as I want. Maybe remodel the kitchen.(And maybe subsidize a cure for skunkiness...I was in the car BEHIND a car that hit a skunk. Not good)My needs are modest :o)
That said, I'd also embrace philanthropy and give more to the charities and causes important to me. With no fanfare.
Great blog Harley!

That seems to have posted the entire page -- scroll down and you'll find it.

Michele, you are one person I would trust with a lot of money. Aside from the obvious philanthropic ventures, I know there would be a Gingerbread House in Every Pot. I mean . . . well, you get my drift.

Hey, Ramona! That baking soda cure sounds like just the thing to amuse the children after school today. I bet the septic tank won't like it, though.

Wow, Harley -- great blog. I'm very aware of how lucky I am to be financially secure (and I use the word "lucky" advisedly -- much of that security came from marrying the right guy, and much of it on both sides came from being born to the right parents). Would I like more? Absolutely! I'd love to finish working on the (very modest) house, and to travel more often. I'd love to be able to afford for us to live on a single salary-and-benefits package so my husband could quit his stressful job. I'd love to be able to invest enough to provide a good safety net/nest egg for our daughter.

Would I love to be crazy rich? I think I'd like what I could do with that kind of money. That wouldn't include a private lagoon (a barn, though -- that's another story). But I guess there's really no way of knowing what the downsides would be, is there? And that's the kicker.

Hi, Harley. My name is Kerry . . .

Harley, I think I'd do the baking soda dog outside if you're on a septic tank, or unless you want textured walls in your bathroom!
Yeah, outside, then give the kids a bottle of vinegar to rinse it off! Entertainment for all
(except maybe the dog)and you can rename it 'Foamy'! LOL
Kathy - what would this bumper sticker be?
Douche your dog? or BAVC?

Rita - both!

Have you ever heard Kacey Jones? I'll bet her humor is right up your alley! Just discovered her from reading the weekend blog. Totally hilarious.

Wow......the mind reels.....when we were deciding to open a mystery book store, the first thing we had to accept was that we'd never be rich. So far it's working out.

Mary Alice, thank you. Always good to hear a real success story!

Oh -- sorry, Lori. The name "Iayn" is pronounced like the name "Ian" except Iayn's a girl. Which I only discovered enroute to her 7th birthday party, to which I'd brought a gift-wrapped . . . rocket launcher. The next week I bought a Barbie dress-up kit for a 5-year old named Taylor, who was, naturally, the boy Taylor classmate of my girl twin, not the girl Taylor classmate of my boy twin.

I completely relate to what you are saying...I have lived in several wealthy communities. The rich come in all types. I have met some very down to earth mega rich people...but an unusually high number of wealthy persons go through life with a strong sense of entitlement. Yes, they think that money can buy everything.

Warren Buffet is so right to leave his money to charity rather than his kids and grandkids.

Got it - sounds very California. I have an Ian. A boy. He has trouble with people here pronouncing his name as well. And he has only gotten a Barbie for his birthday when his brother thought it was a hilarous gift. Brother got Stawberry Shortcake for his next birthday.

I would so like to get a gift-wrapped rocket launcher for my birthday. Oh the things I could think of to do with a rocket launcher.

Here are a few commercial skunk smell removers.



I recently attended a Birthday party for a 7 year old named Hunter.

No name – gender ambiguity.

There weren’t any gift wrapped rocket launchers.

There was a gift wrapped Winchester rifle.

Now, even though I have to question the wisdom of giving firearms to 7 year olds, I’m thinking, they probably won’t have a lot of skunk problems around their house.

Thanks, Michael. I'm thinking of naming my next child--or dog--Skunkleen. Yeah, I'm with you on the firearms. The rocket launcher seemed a nice, astronomy-like thing to get, and the salesclerk assured me it was the hottest thing around for 7-year old boys. Iayn's mom assured me she'd love it.

I think Warren Buffet's from Nebraska, which would explain his down-to-earthiness.

Skunkleen Kozak? It’s got a certain ring to it!

Really great blog- been thinking about it since the morning. I've always found that my rich friends just have better stuff around them when they are miserable.

I had 2 friends in college that both had sizable trust funds. Both families were new money. The thing that was most interesting was that the one that had a dad that worked his way up the ranks (eventually was president/CEO of a large media concern and owner of a major league baseball team) understood hard work. I think it is because to reach those heights his dad had to be more savvy business-wise and personality-wise than the people that he surpassed. His kids were also never given the chance to work for him. He took self-made seriously.

Meanwhile, another friend's father made the money on risk and nerve in commodities. He could be a cult of personality. His kids have only worked for the family business, when they have worked at all. In some ways they are so out of touch with reality. The stresses of day to day living that ground us all were not available and left them with out a clue.

On the other topic, I named my daughter Joey. It honors my departed mother-in-law Joanne and Joey Ramone. We still aren't sure if we did the right thing not naming the younger one Dee Dee, but he was such a mess.

Gee...lying on the white sand by the lagoon and reading "Dead Ex."
What else is needed?
A cool smoothie since I am cutting back on alcohol.

Yeah, that's a whole other blog, how kids with alarmingly successful, charismatic parents (usually dads) can be cursed. Unless the parents are really wise, being "average" is almost a sin, and anything less than spectacular success can't compete with the family wealth.

I love the name Joey. Skunkleen Kozak, however, is only a dream; the child-or-dog would have my husband's last name. And no hyphenations, please. I don't think Skunkleen could handle it.

to be able to get new tires when needed without having to cut the grocery bill, that is my idea of rich. I am not greedy, I just want enough to fix or replace things around the house without worrying what bank to rob.lol.

Plus you just KNOW the bakery would screw up the spelling on his or her birthday cake.

"No, no. That's the TRADITIONAL spelling of Skunkleen, please. Only 1 K"

Well, hello, Michael.

It's me, Margie.

You are very funny. Where did you come from?

Do you like leather boots? No real reason, just asking.

Margie, you might want to back away from Michael. Just saying, as a friend. In fact, you might look into zapping away that last comment, before Michele sees it.

I don't have a lagoon (no sea in Arkansas, even I know that) but I do have a pond. No putting green, but enough room for a softball field, though please don't mention that to my husband because he hasn't thought of it yet. And of course, we'd have to mow it first. Skunks? Hell, yeah. We got skunks galore, and they LOVE our dogs. All I've found that works is a bath followed by lots of time.

MARGIE, MICHAEL IS MY BROTHER AND HE'S MARRIED! I already had to back Ramona down. Now you, too?

He's also very funny.

Oh, okay.

Do you have any other brothers? Are they funny? Are they cute?

How come they can't speak for themselves?


Hey! You didn't have to "back me down," Michele. You just overreacted to my natural friendliness. Honestly! People I know read this blog. What will they think?

(See why I warned you, Margie? Some people are so touchy about their brothers.)

Oh, really, Ramona? Then why did you go out and buy that flight attendant uniform?

Ummmm...well...gee...Oh, I know.

I won a walk-on role in the upcoming blockbuster movie, More Snakes on a Plane. I play the spunky flight attendant who parachutes out the window because no way would I stay on a MF-ing plane full of MF-ing snakes.

P.S. Hi, Michael. How you doing?

Charlaine: are you trying to tell me that Time Heals All Skunks?

Michael, have you been lurking long, or did you just now stumble onto your sister's guilty little secret?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ramona's comment about "More Snakes on a Plane" just opens up a whole REALM of possibilities.....

Can someone fill me in on Snakes on a Plane? I thought about renting it, but I'm wondering, is it too scary? I have no real snake issues.

I missed the whole S.O.A.P. phenomenon when it happened and never really caught up.

William, William, William.

You can't just throw that out there and then leave.

I like snakes. Not the poisonous kind, of course. They're gross.

Do you have snakes?

I'm not allowed to talk to Michael any more, I guess. You're not related to Michele are you? She's a little jinky about that, apparently.

Oh - Harley - Snakes on A Plane.

One reason to see it: Samuel L. Jackson. That's all you need to know. I mean, it does put a girl off the mile high club, but other than that, it's pretty campy and fun.

When we saw it, everytime SLJ came on screen, people clapped.

And whenever he said F**k, people cheered.

The Mo-Fos got a standing ovation.

Kind of like Rocky Horror Picture show, but you don't have to bring stuff.

I read some short story or magazine piece recently where somebody tried to have sex in a current-size airplane lavatory and found it to be physically impossible, Margie. Just saying.

Worst flight in my entire life was from Washington DC one time back to Houston. Jammed into what I have since learned is called a "Barbie Jet" because it's just about big enough for Barbie and Ken. By the time we landed back in Houston, I could barely walk, my legs and hips were so cramped.

The concept of sex in the lavatory in something that small is not to be borne...

Funny... very funny!
Nice blog.

Okay, Martinez sibs, let me see if I have this right: you're named Michael and Michelle? And you're not twins?

Please tell us true-life tales of ensuing confusions.

Oh, and Michele - you've just challenged Margie to, uh, perform allegedly unnatural acts. Would a Reasonable Author consider this prudent? 'Cause you know How She Is.

Nice post, Harley. Very '60s. Talking about skunks... my poor Beagle was skunked three times last summer. Tomato juice didnt work. I found the "intervention" on the internet... peroxide, baking soda, detergent, and something else I'm forgetting right now. Did the trick. Each time. The car that got skunked when my son ran over the critter? Well, that's a different matter. Ten months later, there's still a tiny lingering scent...

Fine, Libby, leave me hanging. Peroxide, baking soda, detergent and _____? Because this sounds easier than Baking Soda Frosting or the finding Skunkleen on the internet.

Okay, SNAKES it is. Anything that brings to mind the Rocky Horror Picture Show is okay by me. So that would make Samuel L. Jackson S.o.a.P.'s Tim Curry?

And Margie, I suspect it's bad manners to accuse someone's mother of having no imagination in the Name Your Kids department. What if we all started calling you Margaret?

Actually, I stop by from time to time, but don’t always have the luxury of a) time or b) reliable internet access to post regularly. (cheesy layover hotel wifi)

The Barbie Fun Jet? We LOVE the Barbie Fun Jet!

Actually, the name doesn’t come from the lack of size, but the youth of the crews flying it and some of the hiring practices of certain airlines. I won’t bore you with the details, but having spent several years as a Captain and Instructor on said Barbie Jet, I can tell ya, the size of the lav didn’t deter as many people as you’d think from giving it the ole college try….

There are all sorts of cute derogatory nicknames for little airplanes.

Jungle Jets

Taco Rockets

San Antonio Sewer Pipes

Oh the list goes on and on.

And they all have little lavatories, and for some reason, people just love to see what they can get away with in them. I guess because the fact that there are fewer passengers on them makes certain people bolder. I know since I’ve been flying 737s (with bigger lavs) I’ve seen far fewer um, membership applications, to the Mile High Club.

Hey, I haven’t seen S.O.A.P either, let me know if it’s worth renting.

Hi Ramona, doin’ fine thanks. You?

Margie? Do you think those boots would go with Ramona’s new flight attendant outfit?

See?? These things ALWAYS turn into shoe discussions eventually…..


Ok, first off, I am NOT Margaret, and I didn't say nuthin' about nobody's names. That was Tom.

Love ya, Tom, but not taking this rap. My personnel folder already takes up a whole freakin drawer.

Now - airplane bathrooms. Please, people - it's a little thing we like to call flexibility, okay? Not to encourage anyone or anything, especially after that SoaP scene, but let's just say that SOMEONE perches on the little sink thing, and SOMEONE else stands up. Or, depending upon, um, balance and strength, there is always the door. Watch that handle thingy though - that will leave a mark.

Geez, what did you guys do without me around here?

Oh - Hi Michael - didn't see you posting there on top of me. Hah! Kidding. A little blog humor there.

The boots? Honey, these are custom-made, Flortentine leather thigh high boots. We don't share them.

Ramona, honey - if you want some, I can hook you up - because, uh. I think Michael is hot on the whole boot thing. Just saying. And don't tell Michele. Maybe she's back in the hole and won't check back.

SOAP was Saturday Matinee fun, no more- no less.

This blog entry might inspire a sequel to SOAP,

"Skunk Dogs of Beverly Hills."
or, if Eddie Murphy is involved,
"Beverly Hills Skunk Dog."

or this future classic from Australia????


Margie, I was just kidding about the Margaret. And I'm deeply sorry to have blamed you when it was Tom who maligned Michael and Michele's mom. (and/or dad.) Apologies.

Thank you, CinemaDave. I'm humbled that my own Skunk Doggie Dogg has inspired such profundity today. I'm going to bed now.

No, no, not maligning parents, and sad if you took it that way. Apologies there, too. You'd have to know how many baptisms I've sung. I just wanted to be sure I had this right.

'Cuz we have people around here who make stuff up. For a living. So you never know.

No, I'd have to say it *was* pretty imaginative. I've done weddings for a couple Michael & Michelle couples. But I don't think I've ever come across sibs or twins by that name.

But those Barbie jets, Michael - they wouldn't be Dutch by any chance, would they?

I can ask my neighbors, Tom. There's a whole commune of people from the Netherlands living next door (see last year's Christmas card) . . . and they really do wear wooden shoes.


No, they’re Canadian.

Some are Brazilian

The Dutch built some pretty good airliners back in the day, but no one flies them in the US anymore.

We always liked getting traffic advisories from ATC about Dutch airplanes

“Yeah, we got that little Fokker in sight…..”

Ah, Canadair-Bombardier, Dehavilland, Embraer. Who'd I forget?

Tony Soprano jokes are good, but for the flight-obsessed airport rat, Tony Fokker jokes are always better.

MY brother used to make Fokker jokes. He works in aerospace, in Houston. Are all you flight guys a bunch of comedians?

ramona, what else can one expect of a business where the operator of the equipment (ahem) sits in a cockpit?

Harley - wooden shoes!!! Why didn't we think of this sooner! They're classics! and surely to ghod someone can cut big enough blocks to make 11s and 15s!!

Of course we'll klonk when we walk, and we'll gain about three inches of height . . . Whaddya think?

From the site below:

"This is currently the most effective de-skunking bath, but the peroxide can potentially bleach your animals fur. Lemon juice or white vinegar can be substituted for the peroxide, but they don’t work as well.

In the bathtub or a bucket, mix together:

1 gallon water
1 quart hydrogen peroxide ~3% solution
1 cup baking soda
1 good squirt of hand or dish soap

The mixture will fizz. Use a sponge and lather it into the fur/skin taking care to avoid the ears and eyes. Let it sit for 10 minutes, rinse and repeat."


I love you all.

Good morning!

[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/zh.html] Gibson Brothers Caribbean Concerto [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/ca.html] My Heart Is Beating Wild [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/pbtfoi.html] Gibson Brothers My Heart Is Beating Wild [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/qre.html] Baby Its The Singer [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/uzob.html] Gibson Brothers Baby Its The Singer [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/qseleceb.html] Que Sera Mi Vida (If You Should Go) [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/yivouiuf.html] Gibson Brothers Que Sera Mi Vida (If You Should Go) [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/iwrsibby.html] Rio Brasilia [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/yenihom.html] Gibson Brothers Rio Brasilia [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/pph.html] West Indies [/url]
[url=http://gibsonbrothers.mp3first.info/ebj.html] Gibson Brothers West Indies [/url]

Sorry for unauthorised message. If you dont want to read it - just delete this topic or close this window.

Hello ladies! I've only read a tid bit of your webpage here. I am currently in the Dallas, Texas metroplex but, my question is...how do I get some of the "more than enough mooney" from you'll to invest in my ideas and meet a self made millionaire for myself?

You could write or call:
3428 Judge Dupree Drive
Dallas, Texas 75241

I'm looking forwrd to hearing from you!

Chandra Wilson

The comments to this entry are closed.

The Breast Cancer Site