Wrong.
This was supposed to be a post about Fat Joe, a rapper whose song Lean Back was played to death by Miami radio to the point that it became a running joke between my friend Ashleigh and I. I would have gone on about how Joe's niggas don't dance, they just pull up their pants and do the rockaway, whatever that is. But it's not, because although I waited an hour at Good Day New York yesterday and ended up being late for work, Fat Joe showed up after I left.
This could have been a post about Linda Thompson, Elvis Presley's last girlfriend and the ex wife of Bruce Jenner and David Foster, who is peddling her new memoir around NYC. I could have gone on about how a fading starlet with a magical pussy and a tentative grasp on fame tries to stay relevant past a certain age, or maybe talked about how she's had so much botox her face is slipping off her head. But I was either given bad information or she's a blabbermouth who can't shut up because I never saw her leave Sirius yesterday at the time she was supposed to.
And this post could have been about Michael Feinstein, the Great American Songbook archivist whose version of My Favorite Year has held a special place in my heart since I first heard him serenade C.C. and Sophia Capwell at a New Years Eve party in the mid '80s on Santa Barbara. But I took my vitamins this morning before I left the gym, making me just late enough to see Michael walking down the hallway into Good Day New York as I arrived.
And if you think it can't get any worse, where's your imagination? I left Good Day New York, only to find out that Linda Thompson was added as a last minute guest, and had I waited I could have caught her arriving.
So here's a picture of Josh Bowman from Revenge that I've been holding onto since May because I couldn't find anything interesting about him to write about and still can't.
No comments:
Post a Comment