Lord of the Flies


A friend took me to the Ivy on Robertson for my b-day Saturday. It’s a yearly ritual. I get a kick out of the scene AND their expensive grilled veggie salad. This birthday I had an extra guest. Well, about 45 of them with cameras and video cameras. I sat at a table in front of reality mid-life crisis Jon Gosselin (formerly of Jon and Kate plus 8, really formerly). We live here. We know why “celebs” sit on the patio of the Ivy. They want to be photographed. Paris Hilton once famously got out of her car, stood for photos at the restaurant, didn’t sit down or eat at the joint, and then ducked into the store next door before someone popped by to pick her up. Her work was done. Well, the Gos is working on his media savvy. He sat with his agent-types, maybe his lawyer, for over three hours on the patio (enough time for all the paps to gather), scowled as he posed and drove away. He wants to stay in the game or he wouldn’t have entered the Ivy’s white picket fence. Ya gotta laugh. Sitting between old Jon and a woman holding a lap dog with gold-painted nails and vibrant purple ears, I noticed I kept having to shoo flies away from my plate, they were really bad (that has never happened before). I’m not blaming the dog – I’m kinda pointing fingers at the Gos. I have a feeling Kate’s gonna mop the floor with him using the back of her mullet. Have a looksee. I’m the gal in black who can’t stop smiling.