Monthly Archives: August 2010
Wendy here, continuing with my report on the Leverage Wrap party. First, though, a note on Carolyn’s most recent post:
While I am somewhat saddened by my blogmate’s attempt to pull the wool over our reader’s eyes attention whore, I can, I suppose, understand where she is coming from midlife crisis and forgive her this single aberration pattern in an otherwise eminently sane menopause descent into madness.
Carolyn, I love you, sweetie, but please–George Clooney posing with a pug? PIG. He likes pigs. Can we admit right now that your picture was photo shopped? Maybe you were feeling a little, oh I don’t know…sick with envy? But I can’t help that my life has turned so freaking glamorous.
For those of you not eaten alive by jealousy….
My Fifteen Minutes of Someone Else’s Fame, Part Two
Okay, so Tim and I got out of our car at the Governor Hotel. On the way in, he pretended to pick more dog hair off my butt. [He's such an animal. Obviously my 10 Minutes-A-Day To Firm DVD has been working wonders.] We took the elevator to the fourth floor, where two very nice normal-looking girls put paper “Leverage” bracelets on our wrists. They were the last normal-looking people we saw for four hours.
Feeling giddy, we walked into the party, where lights created giant “flames” that licked the walls beneath the word LEVERAGE. Images of the cast and crew were projected on a large screen, an incredibly complete bar was set up, and tables of food lined either side of the room. I get the reason for the bar, but why bother with food? The place was packed with young actors and actresses. No way were they gonna eat anything remotely resembling a calorie. Apparently size zero actually exists. I had no idea people could look like that without being airbrushed. Flawless. And that was the men. The women? Remember I told you that my husband sat in the makeup chair next to Elisabetta Canalis? Well, he kept pointing her out to me at the party…except that it was never her. Elisabetta Canalis is otherworldly gorgeous; Google her if you don’t know what she looks like. Several of the women at this party looked like her.
The Leverage Cast stood right in front of me during the blooper reel that was shown. I could have pinched Timothy Hutton’s tiny bottom. (I didn’t; I was saving myself for George.) They seemed like a very nice group of people. Continue reading
Well, it’s been a whirlwind couple of days, getting back to normal life after the party. I have so much to tell you!
First, the run-up: I spent all day Saturday at a spa, just relaxing, taking an Iyengar yoga class and having a to-die-for mani-pedi with hot paraffin. Sunday, I slept in. My hair stylist made a house call, and we ate fresh organic raspberries in my bedroom while she did my hair. After she left, my husband and I made love (standing up so we wouldn’t ruin my hair) then got dressed and headed out to the LEVERAGE wrap party.
Oh my, dear reader, what a gala! The place was packed, and the LEVERAGE cast was awesome. The best part of the evening, though, by far, was getting to know George Clooney! He loved the pig salt shaker I brought to show him. He has a pepper one just like it at home. But what really, really made the night special was this memorable quote: Continue reading
My husband’s a guest star on the TV show Leverage. He informed me several days ago that we are going to the wrap party, which is tomorrow night. For the past week and a half, he’s been telling me how beautiful the women and men are on this show.
Deciding to walk my talk, I opted to approach this party very differently from the way I have approached similar celeb-studded parties in the past. I used to make sure my makeup was fresh, my hair was highlighted, and my wardrobe was new. This time? I have one Maybelline eyeshadow duo with a broken plastic lid and gouges in the little cakes of color from my daughter’s attempt to apply the stuff to her dolls with a bobby pin. That stubborn gray in my hair will simply have to be appreciated as Mother Nature’s highlights. And those wrinkles–hey, some of those lines are vertical; they might be slimming. As for my boring wardrobe: I’m a work-at-home mom on a budget. Cotton will have to do.
I felt really good about my decision to go au naturel and simply enjoy the view and the company. No one’s going to be looking at me, anyway. That last realization is one of the sweet gifts of no longer being twenty.
Today, with fewer than twenty-four hours left, my darling husband mentioned that the gorgeous Italian woman he’s seen on the set is Elisabetta Canalis, George Clooney’s current extraordinary squeeze. Continue reading
Like any seven-year-old, my daughter cannot wait to be a teenager. Her target age: nineteen.
“Mom, does this headband make me look nineteen?” Absolutely. And you could add another year if you detached the Minnie Mouse ears.
“Mom, look at my ballet slippers.” (Extending her foot with a lovely pointed toe.) “Do my legs look nineteen?”
“Listen, Mom, listen. Does this song make me sound–” Yes, sweetheart, yes, singing “We Are The Dinosaurs” at the top of your lungs absolutely makes you sound nineteen.
I’m not sure why she targeted that particular age. Nineteen was certainly not my best year. I was in my third year of college, a good forty pounds overweight, struggling to know more, do more and be more than I was comfortable with.
Nineteen was almost thirty years ago. Now I’m trying to look younger, feel younger and still trying to do more than I am comfortable with. Not that I want to be nineteen again. Noooo thank you. But forty-two…yeah, that was a great year.
“Hey, world, if I wear this makeup, do I look 42 again?”
“If I lose ten pounds, will I look 42? Will you like me better? Take me more seriously? Hire me?”
Recently, I was with the twenty-five-year-old niece of a dear friend. When I say the girl is stunningly beautiful, I am issuing a gross understatement. And yet she felt it necessary to have her first BOTOX injection at 24. Apparently that is no longer uncommon; you get a head start on wrinkle prevention that way.
Annette Bening was my acting teacher twenty-six years ago. She was, by far, the most confident woman I had ever met. Today, she is one of the few actresses of her generation with the guts to age gracefully. She is, by all accounts, the very hands-on mother to four young people. Google her, and you will find that she spends a great deal of her time giving back to her community in addition to conducting what has amounted to a thoughtful, intelligent and wildly successful career.
Check the imdb boards, and you will discover that she is being slammed–rudely–for daring to age naturally. One poster wrote that Warren Beatty is now “too good for her.” Another brain trust labeled her “a hag.”
Great. These are probably people who get tattoos and piercings so they can be unique. I’m not knocking that, but guess what? Aging naturally in Hollywood is probably as unique anyone is going to get.
I wonder if a woman posted the crack about Warren Beatty or the uber-intelligent hag comment? Lord, I hope not.
Annette: You glow, woman. And may I say, “Thank you” for living the wisdom of taking yourself seriously…but not too seriously. And for spending more time working to improve the world instead of your own skin.
Libbi, my darling daughter: Slow down, baby. There’s plenty of time. Live the moment, because the time that yawns endlessly now will someday seem achingly brief. And you don’t want to miss a second by trying to be someone else. (Or even an older–or younger–version of yourself.
Note to me: Ditto.