Celebrity Skin

Once I met a certain celebrity. We'll call her Lindsay.

No, nix that.

Once I met a certain celebrity. We'll call her Famous Girl.

Famous Girl (FG) was at the pool at the Satay in Miami and so was I, and we were bored. We drank frozen lemonade and traded sunglasses like five times and laughed because mine were too big on her and hers were pink, and she was actually pretty cool.

Then she saw a copy of US Weekly with her face on it and flipped out. And it said she stole another FG's boyfriend and I said, "How can you live with that stuff? All those lies that everyone reads?"

And she looked at me really calmly and she said, "Well for one thing it's not a lie. It just matters more because I'm famous, but at the same time, it doesn't really matter at all, because to most people I'm not even real."

I tried to tell Eva that last night at Freeman's but she didn't really listen. She just said "yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that Jenny will never talk to me again."

I whipped out an US Weekly and showed her.

"Not true," I explained, "Apparently, Paris and Lindsay are friends again."

Oops, I mean FG and FG.

Whatever. Truth be told, I sense "Team Jenny" and "Team Eva" t-shirts at Kitson in the near future. But then at least Sophia will be happy because she'll finally be famous enough for her own American Apparel spinoff.

She's also the only one I can deal with right now, so I'm off to her house to watch the first episode. It's definitely a haul to Little West 12th, but I'm making her order Pop Burger this very second.

More later.