Today I had lunch with Ryan Seacrest and Donatella Versace.
Not at the same time, of course, but at separate tables. Ryan and I met at 11:40 for a sesame tofu salad at Koo Koo Roo. We discussed his sensational radio career vs. his lackluster televised hosting venture. Ryan says that the "ladies" prefer vocal resonation as opposed to the new hi-tech on-camera HDTV eyebrow lift look. So, he tore up his plastic surgeon's business card and vows to hang upside down and go on a juice fast for 72 hours. I don't know what that will do for him, but I'm curious to see what the turnout will be. I encouraged him to write a book, but he hastily turned away as the sun glistened against his royal blue contact lenses.
I met Donatella 1:00 sharp at Dolce. I had a wardrobe change in my trailer pre-positioned outside the cafe. This time I wore maroon. I was glad I had because she showed up in black and we complemented each other well. We drank a crisp, aromatic South African Chenin Blanc. We shared tuna tartare appetizers, and laughed over our college years at Eaton in Westcherfield. She reminded me that next year will be our ---th year anniversary as best friends. So we began planning our excursion. Let's just say it will involve a giant beige yacht, 300 bisexuals and 40 kegs of Mountain Dew.
Just then, we laughed because Christine Lahti tripped on a ramekin and tried to recover like it never happened. But we saw it. Then Donatella called over the manager, and got him to give her a copy of the surveillance video. So we could show it to all our closest friends. Leslie Ann Warren is going to shit her pants when she sees the replay.
So, now I'm home. Resting on my laurels. Downloading an early industry copy of the upcoming Mary J. Blige album to my itunes.
Your love and support mean all the world to me.
You are all gems. Simply gems.
Amen.
b.b., esq.
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