Melissa Leo is writing memoir. I only want to know about her time on Guiding Light. Or was it All My Children. I used to watch my stories. Now that she's a serious actress, who says whatever the eff she wants on an awards show, I'm rebelling. Though it could be an interesting bipolar read.
Met Gala last night. Everyone seemed to be wearing Stella McCartney--not my favorite designer though her dress for Madonna was absolutely stunning. Dish is a classicist, avoiding the one-armed bandit dresses, the burlap sacs and the dull slabs of fabric masquerading as style. Best preggo dress was Jessica Alba who was in Ralph Lauren, which sounds very dirty.
My hat's off to the dudes who ran the Jury Duty pool. They did stand-up and had the best attitude in dealing with apathetic people, i.e. all of us. The women's room was a filthy sewer of stink and errant scraps of TP. Insane ugly husband with lump on head screamed at his mail-order non-English-speaking-American-citizen-wife to hurry the eff-up, bellowed into women's bathroom to "stop spending two hours in there, aren't you done?" The woman next to me hummed to herself as she read a children's book. Peter Weir lookalike wore sunglasses indoors. No one--not even Duran Duran--should wear sunglasses indoors unless severely smashed or suffering immaculate degeneration or whatever eye condition called. Real Housewife of W. 38th Street on one side spoke loudly about herself--I was like, it's two hours, I'm going to do something VIRtuoussss and go to the gym, flexed her calves. Yeah, Dish saw her desperately putting on her makeups in the back row, like a crazy person. Makeup for Jury Duty, I don't think so.
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