Dear Gossips,
Every channel on every TV yesterday was on the manhunt. And I work in a broadcast centre. It felt kinda like...The Hunger Games. I mean, that’s what the story is, right? Suzanne Collins created a world that seemed very, very possible. Admit it -- part of the intrigue, part of it, around the Felix Baumgartner jump too had to do with whether or not, um, it would end in a lifeless body falling from the sky, the last shot a crumpled figure surrounded by parachute. Splat. One day the Real Housewives of Whatever City will seem like gentle programming, the future’s version of elevator music.
Thanks God then it’s Wednesday. Mimi’s American Idol is on tonight. And I need Mimi. Especially the Mimi who tries to make it feel like Christmas in February for Valentine’s Day. What? It doesn’t matter if it makes no sense. She’s tottering around in her snowsuit again, her own holiday music blasting too loudly in the background, and there are cookies under a mini-tree. What. Is the problem?
Yours in gossip,
Lainey
