||[Dec. 1st, 2008|10:56 am]
Okay, maybe it was because, growing up, my parents had friends who ran a modeling agency -- so a lot of people who went on to become famous later in life, well, let's just say I knew them when they were embarassing themselves at pool parties, or just being normal semi-dorky adults, trying to relate to a pre-teen. And, others, in town because they were doing the summer run at one of the local theaters, or the rep circuit, or...and of course, working for certain upscale gourmet kitchenware and food stores, I've had a lot of famous people as customers. And, again, watching someone who's got major starpower get all baffled, befuddled and charmingly bewildered about which coffee he should buy, because well, his new girlfriend will be in town for the weekend and he really wants to make a good impression...how endearing and "normal" human is that? On the other hand, several others who have listened just a bit too hard to people who've told them how special they are. Yeah, fame, money, whatever...but, dude, you still walk like a duck and omigod, you really do hire only short people to do your shows with you, because you, my dear, have three inches between you and midget status. |
Just call me nonplussed. The difference between me and a celebrity would be...luck, money, connections. Period. Well, okay, there's the talent thing. So, the difference between my TALENTED friends and a celebrity would be luck, money, connections. None of which I find terribly impressive.
For would-be empress of the free world, I'm alarming egalitarian. You have to EARN respect. Famous and wealthy to me, just means that you have more money and a better press agent than I do. But you are no less f-'d up, and probably more, because fame and money are like giving amphetamines to a weasel. Odds are, they were already a little crazy and this is just going to make them worse.
Look, I'm going to watch the movie Australia because lush, lavish epics are fun. Even though I know I'm going to have issues because Hugh Jackman is just too damn clean. Squeaky. No drover in all of Australia has ever had teeth that white and a face so unsquinty. Ever. And I will struggle with that, but deal.
Besides, compared to Ms. Neurasthenia 2007, he'll look darnright natural. What, was she grown in a hothouse someplace? Fed by tubes? There are people dying in hospitals who look healthier. But that I could almost ignore. I mean, you know, assuming a Dark and Stormy as a pre-movie cocktail.
But now, I made the mistake of listening to some news clip where they were reporting that Ms. Kidman has staffed both her entire US and Australia homes with US-Deep-Southern-Accented staff. Because she wants her child to grow up with a Southern accent. Because people have always found her cold and off-putting because of her Australian accent.
Wait, what? Who told you that? And you believed them? Honey, you need a new batch of sycophants. Maybe throw an honest one in there. Because you could use some honest friends. Bearing large bowls of mashed potatoes.
Sweetheart, darling -- you've got the world's partyingest accent. It's like American without the rude. It's charming. People think you're cold, cause...well, you are. With your little pinched features and your china doll build. Freaking eat something. Grow a muscle. Stop looking like some overwrought fragile flower, one make-up artist away from looking like a concentration camp victim.
You need Paula Deen in your kitchen, that's where you need a Southerner. And get used to it right now. Your daughter will be downloading Aussie dialect bites as soon as she's old enough to spell the word "rebellion".
(Note: I've never met Ms. Kidman and I'd say that for all I know, she's a normal sweet person. And I'm more than a bit judgemental. Especially on Mondays. Except that to "mold" your child like that is just creepy. So, jury's out.)