Forty-seven days out of rehab, and Lindsay finally chooses a sufficient apartment. But if she can’t get the keys today, she is going to have to move into a different hotel room. Erm, I mean her personal assistant, Matt, is going to have to move her to another hotel room.
Lindsay refused to be on camera today, so we just hear her cry-whining from the bedroom at 2:15 p.m. about packing up her stuff. It’s 3:00 and the hotel needs its room back from the belligerent former child actress. But the realtor is stalling handing over the keys, so poor Matt has to get his boss packed up and moved out when she won’t even get dressed.
Off-camera, Lindsay signs a lease and her assistant transfers them to the real estate broker who drives them up to the landlord’s office in hopes that he will hand over some keys. Two days later, no keys but Lindsay agrees to be on camera. She’s missing three checks, an employment letter (good luck with that), and a business reference, but mainly the “Pilgrim issue,” which is the production company doing the docu-series. Turns out they’re paying for the apartment as an advance on her pay. But Pilgrim took the checks back as contingency on having the filming done because Lindsay doesn’t always feel like filming. Hmm.
It goes back and forth with the producer, the director, Lindsay, her nutball father, about whether or not Lindsay has been making herself available for shooting. Ultimately, the producer released the checks to the realtor so maybe now Lindsay can unpack all of her crap. Ugh. I’m exhausted watching Lindsay manipulate people so I cannot even imagine having to work with her.
Next up, dinner with Dad. Cody Lohan wants a car but he has no credit. And Ally got an apartment, so Cody feels entitled to a vehicle. And this somehow involves Lindsay co-purchasing a car with her father for her brother? This family is sad, and Lindsay and her father seem awkward in a coked up kind of way.
Hey who wants to talk about the crazy stripes of blush in the one-on-one interview? I’m guessing she pissed off her makeup artist. Anyway, bickering, snipping, Dina’s in jail on a DUI, what a sick, sad family. Yeah, just what you both need is more caffeine.
Back at the hotel which has a bathroom bigger than most people’s apartments, Lindsay says that it is out of character for her mother to drive under the influence. Oh I’m sure. Then Lindsay applies makeup so that she can meet her new life coach slash trainer. Apparently workouts happen in hotel rooms with word games? Lindsay got the “purity” card, which means she needs to keep her living space “clean and fresh.” Good luck with that, lady. Then it gets truly conartisty, and I don’t know. I mean these stars, it’s almost too easy to take their money.
Lindsay encourages her driver to give the photographers on bikes “a little tap” to try to show them who’s boss. The thing is, if Lindsay’s doing nothing unusual, then who really cares? Just get out of the car, go into whatever store you’re going into, and let them take their pictures. I mean it’s so ridiculous. Without those photos, there’s no fame. And without the fame, there’s nothing. Anyway, the celebrity life coach gets deeper with Lindsay, plucking more dollars out of her shallow pockets. Then, Lindsay needs a smoke. But Bloomberg so she can’t smoke in restaurants, and paparazzi so she can’t smoke out front, so she smokes in the car. Eew.
Finally, Lindsay exercises. Lindsay thinks that she hasn’t found her routine because she’s not ready yet. Oh I totally understand, I’m just not ready to go to the gym, either. I’m waiting for someone to invent an exercise that involves sitting on the couch and eating rows of Thin Mints. Once that happens, I will have found my routine.
Forty-nine days, and no keys to the apartment. But they are hopeful. Once at the apartment, papers are exchanged for keys, and Lindsay is finally home. I’ll note that the elevator opens up right into the apartment, there’s a fireplace, the living room is gigantic, there’s an upstairs, it’s spacious, there are fourteen foot ceilings, the closet is massive, THERE’S A ROOF TERRACE!!! For someone who’s crying poverty to the point where she couldn’t even cough up her own down payment and has not even a spot of work on the horizon, this apartment is the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever seen.
Next week, Lindsay needs a day to herself. Or two, or three, or forever.
So…thanks for the apartment down payment, kisses! Love ya!
Reprinted from HauteTalk.com