How Could You Let Me Take A Picture Looking Like That?

It’s so weird.  My last post,  I mentioned Johnny Depp, and then yesterday I get word that he and his longtime girlfriend, Vanessa Paradis, were hitting for Splitsville.  I have been waiting for this day for 14 years.  I don’t think anyone understands the love I have for this beautiful man.  When I was younger, I had pictures of him on my closet door; pictures that I would cut out from magazines and print from the internet.   I also owned all of his movies, even the ones that he received no recognition for.  I was a true fan.  I always felt that we were meant to be.

This is what I predict:

  • Johnny will want to go out and live up his single life.  I am sure he will not go to the Viper Room because that is where people will expect him. (Plus a true rebel wouldn’t go to their own club. Come on!)  I am hoping he will come to New York.
  • Johnny will start serial dating because he doesn’t know how to be alone and he needs to fill that void.  Johnny is not a cheating man, so I feel now that he has the chance to experience new women, he is going to take full advantage of it.
  • This is where I come in.  I have always said that when I meet a celebrity crush I would play it cool, as if I didn’t know them. (What they don’t know is I am the closest thing to a stalker.)  I would find out where Johnny hangs and then just-so-happen to bump into he and his entourage.  I will intrigue him with my uniqueness and we’ll fall in love. The End.

On to other things. I’ve been having serious writer’s block lately.  I am not sure why.  Probably because I have the worst memory.  I need my friends to help remind me of stories that I can blog about.  As you know, I like to think of my blogging ideas while I drive to and from work.  Yesterday, I really got into Adele’s “new” song, Set Fire to the Rain.   As a true music extraordinaire, I knew this song long before last week.  However, the song gets me every time.  While belting it out, I really got into the part where she sings, “I can stay there, close me eyes,” and closed my eyes.  That was rather dangerous for me to do.  I was on a major highway going 80 mph and  the last thing I should be doing is close my eyes for three seconds to get in the zone of the song.  Advice: Sing Adele’s songs while in a parked car, in the shower or in your room, but not a moving vehicle.

This weekend I am going to Boston for a few reasons. One, I am going to see my baby sister, Anderson (  Two, I am getting my lips done.  (Yes, I have no shame in saying that. The bigger the better works in a few areas for me.)   Three, I am meeting my biggest fan of my blog, after Anderson. All exciting things! About a year ago, I went to Boston to celebrate Anderson finishing college.  She went to Boston University.  I went with Jenny.  I’ve been hesitant to share this story.  However, it’s time for me to put myself on blast and confess.

Jenny and I went to Anderson’s apartment.  At the time, she was living on campus in these luxury apartments.  It was very nice.  I wouldn’t know anymore than that because I was there for a grand total of 4 hours (if that).  Anderson and her friends wanted to show us how they get down in Boston, and Jenny and I were not hatin’ that idea.  We looked fresh to death and felt good.  They took us to this club/lounge.  It was a great time.  Drinks were pouring, pictures were taken, and people were falling.  We reach to Anderson’s apartment building at the end of the night.  There’s a front desk that you need to go through before entering.  Now this is where it gets sticky and a bit hazy.

There was a RA who wouldn’t let Jenny and I up to Anderson’s room.  “Why?” you ask.  Well apparently, it was finals week and they were not allowed to have visitors unless Anderson’s roommates gave consent.  One, her roomies gave their consent, and two, if you aren’t allowed to have visitors, why did you let us up when we first arrived there?  I’m not an angry drunk, but all the havoc made me otherwise.  This little RA was making this so difficult.  He had it out for us or something.  Anderson’s friends were screaming all sorts of crazy. “Our parents don’t pay $50,000 a year to get treated this way!” “Wait till our parents here about this!” LOL.

I let it go for 20 minutes thinking that they would budge and let us go into the apartment.  This kid wasn’t having it.  The group of RA’s tell us to go to a hotel.  Well what about our stuff that is upstairs?  They didn’t care.  They told Anderson, who is 4’11, to bring it down.  She was appalled by that request.  The RA didn’t want to help her because he felt threatened.  I mean she did say she was going to punch him silly.  So here Jenny and I were, drunk, tired and frustrated.  I guess I just took it to the next level.

Once the RA heard that Anderson wanted to punch him, he called the police.  Five minutes later, an old grandpa comes in and asks us what the issue was.  Now let me just say, this may sound like a very relaxed environment and that I was calm, but neither of those things were  happening.  It was chaotic and loud.  So this old officer comes and we are telling him our issue, what we probably thought was in a delicate, lady-like fashion.  Clearly not.  The RA was annoying us so much that we did start threatening him.  Thus, the old officer needed “back-up.”  He wasn’t able to handle us.  Now comes out the Jersey accents.

Now, the back-up was a joke.  He was a cliché of what exactly a doughnut-eating policeman looked like.  He was bald. He was wearing a white turtleneck shirt that extenuated his pop-belly.  Obviously, at this point I am frustrated and over it.  Now I have this gift (some would say it’s pure-evilness) where I know exactly what to say to get under their skin–and the brilliant part of it is that it’s never about race or gender, just pure character.  I look at this Sergeant guy and say, “Where are the real policemen?”–we know it wasn’t that clean.  He chose to ignore me the first two times, so I said again.  All of the sudden he tells the old officer to cuff me.  I wish I was joking, but that’s exactly what happened.

There I am cuffed, sitting on a bench, crying and laughing with Jenny.  We couldn’t believe this was happening and we couldn’t stop crying or laughing.  All I remember saying is, “I can’t be a Senator anymore.”  Apparently begging doesn’t help.  Once you’re cuffed, you’re done.  They put me in the back of the car and took me around the corner to the university jail.  LOL.  I was in the chambers with some freshman girl telling me that everything is going to be okay.  I just wanted to smack her and say, “Quit being a drunken bastard child!”  The old officer pitied me.  He gave me my cell phone.  Shocked?  As was I.  Now my hands were free of cuffs, but my ankle was cuffed to the bench.

So I am texting, Jenny and Anderson. They are confused on how I was able to have my cell phone in the chambers.  They said they couldn’t let me go until I was sober.  You know how something serious happens and then all of a sudden you snap out of it.  That’s exactly what happened.  I didn’t need to sleep there.  I wasn’t drunk.  I like to make light of situations, so when it was time for me to get my “fingerprints” and “mug shots”, I befriended the cops.  While the old officer was taking my prints, I asked if he liked my nail polish.  I mean they were fabulous! He did like them as did the other one on the other side of the glass.  Next, mug shot time.  I take them, thinking I look fly as hell.  Immediately after, I go into the bathroom. I look in the mirror to find my makeup down my face.  Naturally, I asked for retakes and told them I was disappointed in them for not telling me my make up was a mess.  I took retakes, fell asleep in the cell and was bailed out.  I was insulted about how much my bail was.  You would think a bad-ass criminal like myself would have a bail for at least $100, but not even close.  My bail was a whopping $40!  Anderson and Jenny were stuck in the “lobby” where they couldn’t even use the bathroom.  I was told by the cops that Jenny and I were banned from Boston University and I had a court date the next day to get the charges dismissed.  Being banned from BU really cramped my style.  We were crashing at my sister’s friend’s studio apartment –(She’s the one who does my lips!).

When I went to court, the judge found this case to be preposterous and dismissed any charges that I was convicted of.  Honestly, the whole time, I was singing, “I’m locked up, they won’t let me out.”  I now know how Akon felt.  We had to take Monday off from work. We came back to Jersey that night, and shockingly we went out to celebrate my release from jail! GOL!

At work, people came up to me and said my bruises were really bad.  I was confused.  I asked what they were talking about.  They all knew I was locked up!

On aside I love Rachel Bilson and recently she did this hysterical rap song.  Enjoy!


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