Of course, at 19 in Star Wars, she was so lovely. Still is. I wish I'd looked like her when *I* was 19 with that copper bikini and kissing Harrison Ford (who was way hotter than Puke Skywalker). When I rewatched those movies, I wasn't crazy about her acting until the second movie when Han Solo gets frozen. I felt her despair as my own. She was my favorite character in When Harry Met Sally..., I knew her kind so well in Hannah and Her Sisters, and Postcards from the Edge is my life (except for the drug abuse, overbearing mother, and hot affair with Dennis Quaid). What I love most about Carrie is how she reinvented herself after Star Wars--a daunting task. She is a writer. Sure, she may have all kinds of mental illnesses (who doesn't--life makes me ill every day) and eccentricities (I can't eat egg salad sandwiches in moving cars). When women age, a hair out of place gets categorized as hysterical and uncast-able. Carrie has a brain, she writes, she lets it all hang out in the uphill, always fascist Hollywood vaccuum. Recently on her blog, www.carriefisher.com, she responded to allegations that she looked like Elton John and signed off: I'd like to take this opportunity to offer this quasi poignant explanation & to say to those of you I’ve visually offended…… from the bottom of my heart encased in fat——-BLOW MY BIG BOVINE tiny dancer COCK!How could anyone not love her???
1 comment:
thank you Dish. Who knew!
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