|
Sprawled across a moss-green couch, tucked into the corner of a conspicuously small bedroom at the Mercer Hotel in New York, Lindsay Lohan, her long, blonde hair falling in her freckled face, her multitude of bracelets jangling, her smoking cigarette held aloft, is giggling, uncontrollably. So too are her close friends, D.J. Samantha Ronson and Lohan’s personal assistant Jenni Munro, who are lying next to each other on the large white bed, crying with laughter. Ronson composes herself just enough to continue reciting aloud from the reason for the commotion: an online blog she found on her BlackBerry. She stands up, black fedora cocked to one side, and adopts a stern voice: “Lindsay Lohan has been out partying and drinking every night since she arrived in New York [a week earlier, from L.A. where she lives]. So, rehab didn’t work for her at all. What the hell was she doing in there? While everyone else was getting treated for addictions she was probably playing Hungry Hungry Hippos, clapping her hands excitedly, going ‘Look at the hippos eat! They’re so hungry!’?
Contorting in hysterics, Lohan pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face in her oversize cashmere scarf. “I did checkers!? she exclaims, laughing.
Once the hilarity has subsided, she sits up and looks over at Ronson, who is still chuckling to herself. “What else did they say about me?? she asks.
Ronson continues reading: “When one of the employees taps her on the shoulder to let her know a meeting is about to start, she orders a Cosmopolitan and takes a nap.?
More giggles, and it’s beginning to feel like
a slumber party in here.
“See now that… It’s fine,? says Lohan. “I can totally laugh at myself. But if…?
“Oh, if it was mean I wouldn’t have read it to you,? says Ronson, quickly.
“That’s true,? says Munro, earnestly. “And we wouldn’t laugh at it.?
And with that, the friends go back to trying to find more mentions of their social life on the Internet, and Lohan lights another cigarette, inhales, exhales, and turns her attention back to the interview.
“This is why it’s such a big deal, and why
I get so worried,? she says, absent-mindedly braiding her hair, one hand clad with a fingerless, studded Chanel glove. “I’m at the point where...oh my God...I’m going to go out! I work hard enough and I know how to take care of myself. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I will say, though, that it’s so much harder to stay sober in New York. Though it’s hard in L.A. not to go out, it gets lonely. Being an actress is lonely, and I never want to be alone. I hate sleeping alone.?
This meeting was meant to happen in L.A., a week earlier. That morning, however, Lohan’s publicist called to inform me that her client was, a little ironically, in New York and that, yes, I had gone to L.A. for nothing. When I ask Lohan about it she simply says: “Yeah… I couldn’t do it. My little brother [Michael] and sisters [Ali and Dakota] really wanted me to stay in New York.? She shrugs, and goes to the mini-bar, from which she takes a large bottle of water. “There are Marlboro Reds over here!? she says triumphantly, to no one in particular. On the way back over to the couch she reaches into her huge black Chanel bag on the bed and gets out her BlackBerry. After scrolling quickly through new messages (“67?) she discards it, then looks around, as if noticing her surroundings for the first time. “I like it in here,? she declares. “It’s…cozy.?
|
