I mean, come on, how FUN is this? I want this in MY local newspaper.
Some highlights:
This one was reeeeeeeeeal. Understand that we are mostly blase about famous people, see 'em all the time, write chatty little profiles of them when their new moobies come out. We play it especially cool once we get behind a velvet rope.
*** But Ma-freakin'-donna. C'mon. That's another level -- pope and Beatle-not-Ringo level. Even the most tippy-toppest celeb wranglers are atwitter. She and her husband, Guy Ritchie, came, saw, went. (She was heard to say "oy" after experiencing a press photobarrage going in, but that was the Esther talking.) And there they go, back out into the flashbulbs, toward a limo. She's wearing a pink party dress and that '70s curling-iron hairdo she's unfortunately fond of. We feel our knees buckle slightly. And we check a very big, decades-old item off our Things To Do list, one that's been on there since high school:
Come within four feet of Madonna.
Done and done.
***
This party is where all P's are V and I. We easily acquire our much-needed drinkypoo.
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