Then four days later...we were in the fifth row for the LAST performance of The Producers, five minutes before curtain when roaring applause broke our chocolate-dipped Altoid coma. Who was it? Why Mel Brooks! We noticed Patricia Neal coming in, too, but were a little pissed she beat out someone for an Oscar, we don't remember who, and that was thirty years ago, or something. Okay, so we didn't recognize her at first because we're a little blind. Anyway, Mel (not Gibson) sat down and was besieged by fans. We wanted to yell, hello, this is New York and the show is about to start. It was fabulous, by the way. And we might switch over to the chocolate-dipped Altoids al permanente.
Fast-foward to today. We had an event to attend, a cocktail party whatever at The Lighthouse Building. As we walked in, Stephen King walked out. He, too, had a shiny rainbow aura... spattered with blood.
Other than this, no celebrity shenanigans are cared about by us. Except that Larry Birkhead gets the kid. We're upset Rosie O'Donnell is leaving The View and we can't be bothered to watch anymore. We saw it coming, but still...And could the Today show get any non-newsier?I love Meredith Viera but I don't care what a bad cook she is, nor do I need helpful hints on how to grate cheese. What else, okay, since we're trying to see less movies like Blades of Glory, we highly recommend The Lives of Others. Might have to buy that one. In order to quench our drool fest, we stole and watched BF's copy of The Quiet Man. For the record, we drooled over the always-excellent, sometimes movie-choice-challenged (On Deadly Ground) Michael Caine, not Brendan Fraser--though he's cute too.
And now, it's time for Richard III where we will writhe in ecstacy over Ian McKellan (and Annette Bening). But before Dish goes, we must confess to strange dreams. Last night, we dreamt we were auditioning to be Jackie Warner's (the Workout Goddess) cleaning lady. After cleaning Jackie's house and having her bitch us out for neglecting to dust her stereo, we went crying to our best friend, who was Julia Roberts! We were so excited about this we had to text our brother--since being friends with Julia is our fondest wish (after health, happiness, more money, etc...). A few nights ago, we dreamt we were in a hotel room with Tom Cruise and we were dying to ask him the real deal about Scientology. When we tried to converse with him, he kept saying, "Where did you get this information?" Moral of the story: It's bad to eat salami sandwiches so late at night. Makes for weird REM.