It’s January 7. Since 2005, I’ve done this almost every year on January 7. You know, right? Of course you do. Nine years ago on January 7 I was getting ready for holiday. Late in the day, when everyone had packed it in for the weekend, they dropped their bomb. I remember it around 5pm PT. It was huge. You can’t exaggerate it. How can you exaggerate it when we’re STILL talking about it almost a decade later? Jacek understood that day that we had to modify our trip to account for the reporting that necessarily had to follow in the wake of such a major story.
For a while when she as with Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston used to wear these orange-red hiking pants that I loved and looked all over for. I never did find an exact match. Back then she was also really into thong bikinis. I remember seeing pap shots taken of them at their house, in 1998, the tabloids reporting that they’d moved in together. She’d have the thong on walking around the deck, talking on the phone. And she had a thong on one year on holiday with him, surrounded by friends. My thoughts, at the time, in this order: what a great ass; his hand is on it, possessively; everyone’s looking. I can’t find those pictures now, too bad. But I’ll keep looking. And by next year, the 10th anniversary of January 7, perhaps I’ll be able to share them with you.
Yours in gossip,