Excuse me for a moment. I've gotta chat with J. Lo. Apparently, the most earthshaking event of the day is that she reunited with Ben Affleck. Really? I mean, Ben Affleck? We gotta talk.
Robyn turns to J. Lo. behind her, lounging on a beach-chair with martini in hand, surrounded by sprinklings of sand below Life by Chocolate's studio in clearly-not-for-profit blogland. Girlfriend, really? Ben Aff. . . licted-by-his-filthy-riches-and-egomaniacal-vapid-bro-dom? I mean, sweetie, he's 48! I thought you prefer 19 year olds, or A-Rod.
J. Lo: Smile. Parade wave for the paparazzi. Everyone loves me, I know. Smile.
Robyn: You do have a sexy smile, and sexy -- Robyn scans J. Lo's body -- everything. As far as I can tell. Wink. Robyn eyes J. Lo's plump, perky breasts. She wipes her forehead, as saliva drips from her lips. Whewee. You're on--stay out of California, honey. We're having enough fires! Robyn giggles. Sorry, I just got way too hot. Robyn looks at the camera. She takes a deep breath to re-set.
J. Lo: Oh, I know I do. Everyone loves me, I know.
Robyn: Let's get a bit personal, okay?
J. Lo: Purse, purse an ole? Ooh, girl, I've got me some 1,200 Christian Eeyors in my closet, where the maids live.
Robyn rolls her eyes. I prefer the Jewish Winnies myself. Plus no maids; a swiffer gets the job done. Honey, good thing you don't have to be smart to look good. But Ben's a homely man. He must have brains, unless Matt Damon is all the brains on that team. And cuteness, and virtue and personality. Which he is, by the way. Too bad you couldn't have a real man like Matt Damon. But he's taken. Lucky wife, lucky life, you know what I'm sayin'? Anyway, that boring dude of yours, Ben? Does he ever . . . does he ever, you know . . . Wink . . . smile?
J. Lo: Oh yeah, when I -- J. Lo. and Robyn start whispering, giggling, and then we cut to a commercial about a pill for the 48 year old haughty who can't...smile.