After a much needed break from my kids, I am finally back. Though I traveled from LA to Miami to New York to Aspen to St Barts to LA, I will keep the piece short and focused on highlights.
One of the things I love about being a jet- setter is I never actually know what the point is or why someone garners great attention. For instance, why do the paparazzi hound the Housewives of Beverly Hills but not Gill Gates or me?
I might pay the same amount of attention to George Lucas as I do a random parent at school. Speaking of George, here he is NOT having a good New Years Eve. It's possible this man never smiles, but I thought since the new romance with cool woman Mellody Hobson, things may have changed. But you decide:
Me: Hi George. Why the sad face?
George: I can't get off this fucking boat.
We were all required to wear those stupid hats. Like George, I tossed mine. And we were trapped. The boat in question is actually the largest privately owned yacht in the world. The owner being this Russian dude Roman Abramovich, who looks and acts like a gangster. I've seen my fair share of gangster movies and look forward to seeing The Gangster Squad, so I know the face of a madman. In fact, he kind of looks like Sean Penn doing Micky Cohen.
The boat has 890 rooms and 1000 bathrooms or something. I got seasick, so think I hit them all.
Before I went to St. Barts I did some skiing and chortling in Aspen where celebrities have taken over. It's no longer Beverly Hills in the mountains; more like a Parisian catwalk in the snow. Everyone is all, "Hey! Look at me! Look at me! I'm walking down the street!"
For example, the Hilton sisters. After my fast run on a black diamond and nearly killing all the AARP members on the bunny hill, I bumped into the hotel twins.
Paris: Hey, Rhonda, will you be at Roman Polanski's New Years Eve party in St. Barts?
Me: You betcha.
Paris actually meant Roman Abramovich. But one gets tired and jet-lagged after a while. Continuing up the street I walked past so many actors for a second I thought I was at Sundance. Goldie Hawn, Kurt Russell, Jack Nicholson, Melanie Griffith, Kevin Costner, Alec Baldwin, Uma Thurman with some old dude, Demi Moore with some young dude and Ralph Lauren who probably dresses all of them.
Aspen would be a perfect place to cast a few movies for the neglected 50-75 demographic.
I was so bored I called home to check on the girls.
Me: Are you having a good Christmas?
E: Hi Mom! Dad is so much fun. We got 3 more lizards, 2 snakes, a huge laptop and an automated helicopter! It goes really high.
A: It's awesome! Technically it's not a laptop. It's a desktop but it's big. You got a present I think.
E: Lets not get OT.
A: You're so randomly epic, E.
E: Anyway. Bye, Mom.
They're super sweet girls. Trudging through the streets a flurry of snow hit my face, blinding me for a second, then I looked up and it was as though the heavens had openend. There stood Johnny Depp, being ushered out of a car by Ralph Lauren. I adore Depp, and could tell Lauren didn't dress him.
Me: Hey Johnny! What are you doing here? Didn't you have a gig in Arizona?
Johnny: Hi! No. I was just getting some tacos. You look great. (I was wearing red Patagonia, so..) I came out here to be with the kids.
Me: Daaw. You're such a good dad. Well have fun!
Depp salvaged the entire Aspen experience so off I went to St. Barts. I picked up a snow globe at the airport for the girls.
This is St. Barts:
This was my villa:
This is Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I love him. He's with his dad. I'm sure he's a great guy, but they were not there. Last year's movie boy crush was Ryan Gosling. This year it's Joseph. What a talent.
Anyway, my villa mate neighbors were loud. And for some reason they kept their snow gear on from Aspen. Maybe because they are so worked up all the time. I know Rosie Huntington- Whiteley may be a bit young for Jason Stratham but somehow they are so cute together. They were inseparable.
Finally, on a stroll to the ice machine I noticed they were sitting by the pool with their coats off! She really is gorgeous, you just want to touch her skin.
I wandered out to the beach to see what was what and saw the Roman dude.
Me: Hey, Roman, ballpark. How many heads have you buried here in the sand?
Me: Have you seen Joseph Gordon-Levitt?
Me: Never mind.
An onslaught. Puff Daddy, P-Diddy? or whatever his name is and a few of his kids riding a banana. Then I looked around more.
Not to name names, but to name a few, Russell Simmons and someone's teenage daughter, Harvey Weinstein who shouldn't wear a bathing suit, Ellen DeGeneras and Portia Rossi and oddly Martha Stewart. Maybe she was going to cater the New Years Eve party.
Before I could strap my top back on, the beach was packed. Stephanie Seymour doing yoga,
adorable Channing Tatum hanging with his pretty wife,
King Kayne a few steps behind, Beyonce bouncing baby Blue on a beach ball while Jay-Z drank beer. Even Lindsey Lohan made the cut.
Me: Hey Lindsey! Remember me? I took you to some AA meetings a while back.
Lindsey: Oh my god. How cool you're here. Wanna a drink?
Me: I'm good. Have fun.
Allessandra Ambrosia, like that's her real name. She was sitting next to this girl, Candace Swanepoel.
Candice was about to take a swim. I mean, look at her. Don't these girls ever think about how they might look in public? She could easily loose 15 pounds.
I haven't a clue who this poor girl is, but she seemed lost. Like Tom Hanks in Castaway, despite being only 20 feet away from shore. It was sad.
I wanted to get a bullhorn and tell her to drop the paddle and just walk to the sand but I got distracted.
Though I have never seen X-factor or American Idol or any of the dozens of reality shows this guy owns, I couldn't help but notice how he was being serviced.
On my way back to my room I talked to a couple of the girls.
Me: Hey ladies. You here with Simon Cowell?
Ladies: Well, we're sitting on his boat with him aren't we?
They laughed at me. I don't mind. People mock me all the time. Usually I don't even notice.
Me: Think you'll land a billionaire this year?
Ladies: That's the plan.
More giggles. I already wrote a piece on old rich men, young girls in St. Tropez. It's exactly the same at St. Barts.
After my quick chat with George Lucas, I took a dingy back to the villa and watched the fireworks.
Rhonda Talbot reporting in from St. Barts