“Through the branches and leaves I could vaguely make out the house. The lights were flashing into my eyes and the music was so loud it was making me a little dizzy. I don’t usually crash parties but when I heard that my favorite singer was throwing a party nearby I just had to go. Obviously the guards wouldn’t let me in so I decided to sneak through the shrubs. There were people everywhere, all dressed in their fanciest suits and dresses. When it looked like no one was watching I ever so casually fell out of the bushes and ducked behind a tree to pick all the leaves out of my dress. After I made sure my appearance was acceptable I sauntered inside the house. I was trying to give off an energy like I belonged while trespassing on the private property of a celebrity. I didn’t know anyone there and I couldn’t let anyone know who I was so I made haste trying to walk around the party. I grabbed a drink to walk around with so I wouldn’t look awkward and slipped upstairs. I couldn’t hear anyone around so I started opening whatever doors I could find. Most of the rooms were guest bedrooms or bathrooms, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. After about twenty minutes of searching I finally found it. When I opened the door and found her private closet I was ecstatic. I ducked inside and closed the door. Pulling out my phone, I began to take pictures and videos of the designer clothing and accessories. After about five minutes I heard footsteps approaching the door and someone talking about purses. Quickly I pushed aside some dresses and ducked into this little nook hidden from sight. When they opened the door I held my breath as my idol gave a mini tour of her closet to some random group of ladies. Unfortunately for me she began to approach my curtain of dresses talking about a “favorite dress” and “hidden room”. However, when she pulled back in the dresses, hiding in the closet she found me. Curled up with my phone and purse clutched to my chest shaking like a leaf in the wind. I gave a small smile, and she screamed. Screamed bloody murder I tell you. Obviously I ran, I could hear her screaming for guards saying I was stealing. Of course I kept running until I had run all the way back to my apartment. And that,” I conclude, “was the story of how I got my job as a photographer for a celebrity gossip magazine.”
