Rodeo Drive = Krista's heaven . . . but wait

Can I just say. I loved Rodeo Drive almost more than life itself. And not for the reason most people love Rodeo Drive. I could care less about jewels or clothes or any of that BS. However, the PEOPLE. Oh my God, the people. They were out of Central Casting. The agent screaming on his cell phone and turning around to stare at the ass of the three trophy wives passing by. The two Euro-trash guys sitting at an outdoor table smoking 100 cigarettes and on their 4th bottle of wine. The rich, rich, rich teenagers who think they are God's gift to the world, the woman with the tannest, longest most perfect legs standing in the doorway of Versace. The gaudy ass yellow car parked in front of Cartier. I asked Todd for a chair and some popcorn and to pick me up in a week.