Please tell me you did. It was truly entertaining beyond words.
You know, I never got into the Spice Girls. Nor am I a fan of “football” (soccer) and David Beckham. I scratch my head each day when I peruse my favorite celeb sites wondering why on earth anyone cares about these two, I mean, really. Then they moved to the U.S. and all hell broke loose. All I knew was that Victoria was in a constant state of “paparazzi readiness”, armed with hooker heels and short skirts and Jackie Onasis sized sunglasses that made her look like a bug.
So, I was channel surfing looking for something to watch before my date with Chef Ramsay, and I stumbled on the show, “Coming to America” featuring our friend and alien Posh Spice.
I laughed the whole hour. I really did.
Especially when she met the society ladies of the Hollywood Hills. The older woman in blue, with the “I have too much money and you don’t ha ha so I can look like a clown in my makeup” look. She was priceless. And, Victoria’s comment…. “well, she was blown-dry, wasn’t she” referring to the woman’s 80’s Flock of Seagulls hair was hysterical.
I admire Posh. I do. She is rich. She is beautiful. She has a perfect nuclear family with a handsome man (also rich). She can buy a $17m house without deferring to her husband. She can fool the paparazzi by stopping in the local sex shop and having her stylist fashion a clone of her to thwart her photogs as they chase “bewildered porn Posh” in a big black Cadillac Escalade through L.A. She can toodle into Chopard to buy her husband a small “token” watch worth 65 grand. She can throw a baseball in her special made 4″ tennis shoes (because ballerina flats are for frumps).
I’m not sure how scripted that show is (was it a one-time show or a series??), but if it is reality at all, I would love for Victoria to hire me as her personal assistant.
I have no shame. And I’d freely admit I’d love to be her assistant just to perchance get a good view of David Beckham’s tattoos up close.
Sign me up.