MALIBU – Once again Nicole Richie has managed to go out to lunch without actually being photographed eating. The ninety-one-
pound starlet lunched with friends for forty-
five minutes at an outdoor cafe earlier this week, but not one of the dozens of paparazzi who circled the block in a convoy of SUVs came away with a shot of Ms. Richie putting food into her mouth.
“It’s become a game of cat-and-mouth,” said paparazzo Marc “Focus” Whitney. “She’ll push her food around on her plate, arranging and rearranging it for five minutes at a time, then she’ll lift her fork toward her face; but as soon as we start firing away, she’ll stop and carry on a conversation, waving her fork for emphasis. Then she’ll put her fork down.”
Ms. Richie’s elusiveness is all the more remarkable in the face of today’s digital cameras, whose memory cards allow photographers to shoot more than a hundred shots without having to pause to change film.
Although he professes a fondness for Ms. Richie, Mr. Whitney accuses her of toying with photographers.
“I swear I saw her put half a mesquite-grilled shrimp in her napkin once, then slip it into her mouth while pretending to blow her nose. She’s slick. She won’t even let us catch her with a doggie bag. If she asks for one, the person who came to lunch with her always carries it away from the table.”
Dumb-ass quote: The owner of Rufus, the first colored bull terrier to go best in show at the Westminster Kennel Club show, is alleged to have exclaimed afterward, “This is like having Lance Armstrong for a son.”
Get a grip, dude. Not to put too fine a point on things, but Rufus needs to win Westminster six more times in a row to catch up with Mr. Armstrong. Besides, dogs are not child substitutes; children are dog substitutes.
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