From the Ivana-logues in Page Six Magazine this weeek:
My husband Rossano left for Honduras last week (don't ask me where that is) and I am not a happy camper. He's doing a TV show called L'Isola dei Famosi, which means "Island of the Famous." It's the Italian version of Survivor but with celebrities. I am freaking out! He's going into the jungle where you can get all kinds of diseases, and he went through a thousand pills and malaria shots. For some reason the show asked me to send his wedding tux to this hotel in Honduras. I said, "You think I'm going to send a $10,000 Dolce & Gabbana suit to Honduras? UPS takes like three weeks. It's never going to arrive because somebody will steal it." Countries like that are beautiful but they are very poor, OK? So I am passing on that. Rossano is just looking for adventure. But I am really slightly worried. In the jungle there are no mobile phones, no computers and no cigarettes, but there are plenty of tarantulas, cockroaches and snakes. I hate those slimy things. I can deal with the sharks on Wall Street and the barracudas on Madison Avenue, but this is really too much. And I honestly cannot see Rossano eating snakes unless it is smoked eel at Nobu.
FUCK HER AND HER ANAL SNOUT LOVER
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