Death on the D-List

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IT WAS ALMOST COLD OUTSIDE. BETWEEN THE COOL AIR OFF THE OCEAN AND the fact the sun set hours ago, you’d never guess it was nearly spring. The perfectly placed gravel covering the walkway around the side of the mansion crunched with each footstep. Anyone could hear it a mile away… if anyone had been home. But they weren’t. That was step number one, to make sure the behemoth of a house was vacant while the owners were out in Park City making a spectacle of themselves at Sundance Film Festival.

It was.

They popped up on Entertainment Tonight last night, obviously stoned, at some red-carpet event. She had starved herself down to a bag of bones with a sprayed-on orange tan, and he was showing off new blond implants that had actually turned out pretty well, dipping his head toward the camera and brushing his hair back several times during the thirty-second clip. Everybody and their brother showed up at Sundance now. All the hot, sweaty wannabes cramming every sushi bar in town, hoping to connect with the stars.

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