“Girl, you ain’t never gonna get there with them guys tellin’ you how. Get back in yo’ car and follow me!”
With that, my Dickies-clad guardian angel led me to her exclusive, hill-top neighborhood, his cobalt blue Sears Home Repair van heralding my half-hour-late arrival.
Meanwhile, my trophy wife date attended an early-morning Pilates class. From the looks of all the shopping bags she showed me, it’s clear she also had an aerobic (and wallet) workout on Rodeo Drive, in nearby Beverly Hills!
Here’s a photo of us, the Ladies Who Lunched, settled into our see-and-be-seen table at The Ivy. Who would’ve imagined, with so many options to choose from, that we’d end up wearing nearly identical pearl necklaces and outfits in similar shades of blue?
One of her good friends, Steven, joined us for lunch. (I forgot to get his picture, but if you can, try to imagine him: mid-thirties, about 5’11, blue eyes, spikey blonde hair, hard-bodied, wearing a pink-and-white polo shirt and jeans.) As we ate our salads ($23.00 per plate!), he regaled us with stories of his acting career (no air quotes intended). He’s done some impressive work on the way to earning his SAG card, including serving as a stand-in for a certain famous actor whose love interest recently had a baby. Ahem.
And now, here’s a photo for the tabloids: a picture of Paris Hilton’s home and Bentley, which I snapped through the windshield of my (bodyguard-avoiding) car as I drove past. Ms. Hilton’s house, by the way, is near the base of the winding road where my interview subject lives.
I headed back to Orange County in the late afternoon, to meet my writing group at Barnes & Noble. Now, it’s about 2:30 in the morning, and I’m still too wound up to sleep.