By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
Her friend, 26-year-old Uptown resident Nicole Kapioltas, is sporting a bead necklace with a giant pendant that would make Diddy blush. None of this matters to Divello's ex-husband, who momentarily wants to kick my ass for "flirting" with his ex--before quickly exiting by flipping off Gwen.
"Never know what you'll see out here," Kapioltas says. "Might even find MNBF." Which, of course, is the chic and really stupid acronym for My Next Boyfriend.
Some of the girls playing dress-up actually think they're starring in A Golfer and a Gentleman, the ultimate chick flick in which they are swept away by a millionaire player to a life of luxury and daily spa treatments. And then there is 21-year-old, 5-foot-1 Andrea Larue, who just wants to be noticed.
She's wearing a diamond-encrusted "A" necklace, a short white skirt which is both eye-catching and see-through and, of course, a plunging top that proudly displays her big--um, gigantic--ambitions.
"Absolutely I want people to notice that I got dressed up," Larue says. "But I want guys that steal a quick glance, not just stare and slobber. There's a fine line, you know."
Andrea's skimpy top is adorned with cherries, which prompts her endless response to a question suitable only for The Pervy Pavilion Invitational:
"No, you can't pop it."