Lindsay Lohan's Mom

I picked up Lindsay Lohan's mother last Thursday. At the Hamburger Hamlet, Sunset and Doheney. I wouldn't have known it was Lindsay Lohan's mother, except she told me right off the bat.

"I'm goin' to run an errand for my daughter." she said.

I said that was very nice.

"My daughter is Lindsay Lohan."

I pretended I was impressed, and told her that was oh so very cool. Said I loved watching her kid in "Mean Girls". Which was actually true.

She started sucking on her index finger, and told me the movie sucked big time, and that the director was a gigantic dickface.

I shrugged and said, "Showbiz is a gigantic bunch of dickfaces...or so I've heard."

This relatively attractive Star Mama said her name was Dina. She told me that anything I had read about her being a bad mother was a big bunch of shit. She was a great mother. She had not allowed her daughter to drink scotch until she was 14 years old. Some mothers let their daughters drink at 11 or 12 years. But not Dina.

"I told her she had to wait until she was 14 freakin' years old, and I meant it, I put my foot down, and she followed my rules!"

I let her off in Studio City, in front of a Jojo's Tattoo Parlor, with a purple flashing neon light.

As Dina, the mother of Lindsay Lohan the Great, got out of the limo, she said, "I'm pricing dog Tattoo's for Lindsay."

Good luck, I called out.

With a fine mother like that, I'm sure Lindsay will be fine.

Britney Ain't So Bad

I'm feeling kind of sorry about Britney Spears. I've only driven her once, about 6 months ago, and she was a pretty nice passenger. Very pleasant, laughed at my stupid jokes, didn't make me feel like a low life limo driver like some of them do. In fact, she remarked she thought my haircut was very hip, and made me look like Russell Crowe. (He's an oddball, but that's another story)

She was going to some party in the Hollywood hills, but said we had to stop at Pink's Hot Dog Stand on La Brea. It was about 1 a.m. and as we approached the joint, she sadly pointed out that the line was too long, so I should just forget about it.

I told her I loved Pink's, and I would be glad to get her a dog of her choice . She was quiet for a second, then said, "I would give a million bucks to be able to stand in that line without anybody knowing who I am, and just order a chili dog, with a shitload of onions and every other goddam thing on it. "

I just shrugged. Couldn't think of anything clever to say.

She said, "But, hey, I'm a zillionaire chick, right, so I'm not allowed to complain..."

As she was getting out of the limo, she slapped a hundred dollar bill in my palm and said, "Buy your friends some chili dogs." The papparazzis flashed her silly, but Britney got out without showing even the slightest hint of her lovely underwear.