indiana jones, hands down...

Not that she cares, but Kelsey pretty much knows Lindsey Lohan.
Wait, let me start at the beginning. We were supposed to meet dear Bonnie for drinks and mayhem, but she was unfortunately indisposed, so we headed out to the Irish Bank. It started off quite innocently, with shots of Tequila in the kitchen. I can’t do that shit. If I had a shot of tequila at 8, I’d be passed out by 10. Anyway, we ended up sitting at a table in a perfectly lit alley, sipping drinks and laughing loudly. Alex excused himself to get more drinks saying, “Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll give you a topic. What’s the best trilogy ever? Go.”
Needless to say, for the next hour, we hotly debated this genius question.
Meanwhile, Kelsey was getting texts from her sister. “Kels, what are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing. My sister’s boyfriend is hassling me.”
“Why?”
“He’s a cop. Actually, he’s Lindsey Lohan’s bodyguard and right now, he and my sister are out with Lohan.”
“Shut up.”
“Uh, I’m serious. You should not care about this. Lohan is lame.”
“ARE YOU SHITTING ME? I FUCKING LOVE LOHAN!”
“Ewww. They’re with that bitch all the time.”
“Ask her a question! Get them to ask her a question!”
“Easy.”
“Oh my god. What power. I am about to ask Lindsey Lohan a question.”
“What are you going to ask?”
“Ask her what her favorite trilogy is!”
You guys, I know you mostly read this shit to hear about me falling on my ass or making up stories about Gavin. But every once in a while, I’ve got the hardcore celebrity scoop.
Lohan’s favorite trilogy? The Godfather.
Stupid bitch. Godfather 3 sucks.
Begrudgingly, I moved on. But not without saving a number under “F’ING LOHAN!” in my cell. In the midst of discussing the related, “What’s the best sequel ever?” Mikey and Kelsey decided they needed to dance. Thus, we headed to Vertigo and settled into a table. As I sat sipping my wine with Kelsey and her boyfriend Warren on one side, and Alex, Mikey and Big Chris on the other, I began to laugh.
Kelsey leaned over. “What’s so funny?”
“Look at these boys.”
“I know. These are your boys.”
“These boys are my life, Kels. They’re giant, stupid, womanizing shitheads…”
“I love them too.”
So we danced. And danced. And danced. Finally, I found myself alone, ditched by my boys who’d found stupid women to kiss and Kelsey and Warren, who were huddled at a table in the corner. Fuck this. I’m going to the Holy Grail, across the street.
I texted Alex and Mikey, alerting them to my move, not that they cared, and walked myself the 10 steps to the grown-up bar.
Immediately, I sat next to a smiling, tattooed, pierced English guy traveling the world and willing to talk to anyone. He put down his journal (sigh) and pulled me out a barstool. For the next hour, I was entranced. I had a glorious, Pinot Noir, grown up time with Christian, who I politely listened to while he explained to me that I knew nothing of the world because I’d only traveled it First Class. So cute, I didn’t have the heart to break it to him that everything’s better with turn down service. I kissed him, right there in front of God and everyone. Suddenly, he looked up.
“Three large men are staring at us. Should I be worried?”
“Hardly. Those are my security guards. Ignore them. Speaking of which, what’s your favorite trilogy…”