My boss knows I'm hungover and is sympathetic.

This morning in between fighting waves of hangover nausea, choking down cup after cup of green tea and trying desperately to not look like I had pillaged the small Mexican town of Mas Tequila, J.R. emailed me a link to a paparazzi blurb about Rihanna showing up at the restaurant we had visited last night, obviously after we had left. The blurb said that she closed down the restaurant for her own private dinner party, which I feel is pretty unnecessary, considering J.R. and I were there for a few hours and even through happy hour there were at most, 8-10 other people there. Regardless, I felt that for The Average Broad, this was something newsworthy.

"Rihanna showed up at the restaurant that I went to last night!" I texted my fellow celebrity gossip absorbing friend. Even in L.A., some of us still get excited about these things.
"Wow!" she texted back, dutifully sharing my text excitement.
"I KNOW! I was bummed cuz I wanted to stay and drink more and we totally would have seen her, but at the same time I would've been pissed if I had to leave just because she wanted to eat."

I have such a love/hate relationship with the celebrities in L.A. I mostly just love to hate them, but I think I would love them more if I was getting invited to private dinner parties that close down restaurants all over the city. Definitely more of a thrill than ending your night tequila drunk on your couch, eating pudding cups and watching "Volcano" on TV.