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This is how heart-skipping the view is from the terrace of The Hotel Splendido in Portofino, Italy. We were nearly at dessert when we realized we'd been sitting next to Ozzy Osbourne the whole time. Five feet away, wearing strangely sedate gray pants, his trademark purple glasses, his hair hanging into his ice tea, dining with his wife, Sharon. Not eating bats.
There were two very odd things about it. One, he didn't need to buy a vowel. Eavesdropping was easy. He couldn't stop talking about the death that day of Michael Jackson. Two, 20 feet away, a piano player in a very awful orange satin jacket was playing Burt Bacharach medleys that dripped syrup by the gallon. There was a day when Ozzy would've hurled himself off the terrace just to keep from hearing them.
Anyway, here's the only link to sports. One of the guests said Ozzy had been working out in the hotel's health club that day. No, really. Working out!
Maybe it hit him that day: How is it I'm still here and Michael Jackson's not?