Kelly Ripa is not returning my calls.
Yes, I said celebrity girlfriends. Men have their fantasy bombshells that they douse with whipped cream and dress up in lingerie. I have celebrity BFFs, who come over for dinner and shopping dates.
In my fantasy, Kelly invites me to cohost the show. (Heck, she’s from my hometown). Charlize lets me hold her new baby boy. I’ll join Michelle for mani-pedis on the Hill. Reiko will take me to the new 24 set, the one where she and her TV hubby live happily ever after, since that’s what should’ve happened in the first place.
I read my fair share of celebrity gossip, and I have a good idea of which starlets would make the best friends. Today I’ll talk about Kelly. When we first met, she was a dark-haired rebel living with her uncle Trevor, and I was a teenager addicted to soaps. I was there for her as she went through Brian Bodine, Charlie Brent, Will Cortland, Alec McIntyre and Mateo Santos. She was there for me throughout my daily chant of “I must increase my bust”, my transition from binocular-sized glasses to contact lenses and a prom where five other girls also wore my same dress. Yes, Kelly and I are destined to be together.
But I realize it’ll never work, and one of the reasons why could be because I have a slight crush on her husband. That’s ok, I still have a long list of other celebrity BFFs to choose from.