Overdue Star Sightings

4/18/07, circa 5 p.m.--While sitting at Le Pain Quotidien (daily pain of expensive lattes), Dish saw the great Wallace Shawn enter with a babe. They walked toward the back, their auras the colors of the rainbow. Made it very hard to eat our mini-mousse cake, but we managed.

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.

Capital Star Sighting

April 13th--Right before we started our work day, we ran out to get an overpriced latte. As we returned to our building, we noticed right in front, a woman in baggy clothes and short, straw-blond hair picking up dog poopy. We thought, nice that someone else is dressing down in the morning as Dish wore her pajama bottoms in public. But upon our approach, we noticed the smoldering brown eyes and the flawless skin of our LIZZIE from dreamy Pride and Prejudice, the version that haunted us for years! That Lizzie, aka Jennifer Ehle, who keeps doing Tom Stoppard plays on Broadway.

Flash forward to later that afternoon. Dish had just returned from the Penny Arcade at Commerce Bank. We walked by our overpriced coffee place and saw a little boy throwing his pizza from his stroller. And the mother bent down to retrieve it from the ground. Once again, picking up stuff was our Lizzie! We LOVE her and hope she lives in our neighborhood.

Immediately after, we went onto imdb.com to check how old she is. Oh, a year younger. Wench!

Baby Birkhead

haiku


Please, you marry us
Ship baby off to prep school
Dad, rich and dishy

Unintentional Abandonment

It hasn't been that we've ignored the stars. They just bore us these days. Our therapist thinks this is healthy, but we're not sure. We read People last week and knew everything ahead of time. Page Six doesn't give us enough juice or maybe we've realized the stars lead the same life as we do--only they're richer and on a screen and get out more and look better. Then there was the stomach flu, a cold and sinus infection, too much work kept us from star-gazing.

Our only exciting star-related events have been:

Dish went to an advanced screening of 300 at the Imax theater and saw Matthew Modine ahead of us in line. When the list-keeper asked him his name, MM said, "uh...MoDINE?" He had four guests. MM sat a million seats in front of us so no excessive stalkage. We think the movie should be called 300 Sets of Abs and the excess testosterone made us grow a penis. Then, as we left the theater, we saw Steve Guttenberg. Worlds colliding!

Two days after that, we went to see Liev Schreiber in Talk Radio and he was excellent. Highly recommend, especially if you like to diss everything. We envied Liev his cigs as he smoked throughout. How nice that smart-seeming blond L&O: SUV former ADA Stephanie March is working. We see her and her husband in our neighborhood. They shop at Whole Foods, or at least they did the last time we followed them.

And tonight, embarrassingly enough, The Mirror Has Two Faces, is on TV and even though we own the movie (mortification), we're still watching the version with commercials.

Who knows when we'll return. Maybe when Halle Berry is pregnant or Keanu does another movie...

The Machurian Conversation

Liev: I've enjoyed your work for decades. Kinda strange you're playing my mother.

Meryl: I can feel your hot breath on my neck.

L: Good things travel fast.

M: As will my fingers when I touch your naked chest.

L: I can't tell you all the times I fantasized about your long blond hair, like in Kramer vs. Kramer. I used to pretend you were my mommy and would slap that hair against my stomach.

M: Oh, mama like, mama like.

L: What made you do that movie Falling in Love? It's so shmaltzy.

M: Well, you haven't had the pleasure of making out with DeNiro.

L: Who's better, DeNiro or Nicholson?

M: Naughty son, why don't we go into that little closet over there and I'll give you a spanking.

L: I love acting.

Star Sighting and Stuff

On February 18th, mere minutes before we had to leave on our first vacation with BF, we saw Sylvia Miles, aka the matchmaker on Crossing Delancey, crossing 17th Street and 8th Avenue. She walked with a metal cane and was helped along by a kind gentleman. We wanted to tell her how her services were no longer necessary since we're now barftastically smug married.

Then, last night, while purchasing a huge cookie at B&N before the symphony, we saw the cranky old guy in many movies. We thought he'd died years ago! He still seems on the brink...

As for all the Britney news, well, who knows what's happening with her. She's stealing Anna Nicole's fire with her rehab and head-shaving antics. Blonds do have more fun, but we wouldn't know about this. Well, we tried to go blond once and people laughed at us for looking so anemic.

Okay, back to eavesdropping on the loud cell phone conversation happening outside our door. Some people are just so important!

Daddy's Home, Precious

Dish can't stay silent any longer. We're the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby (wasn't it a girl?). Sure, we may be a blog, but we spent a magical night with Anna Nicole during one of her fertile times. We walked on the beach after a seafood dinner of squid and crabs. Laughing merrily as she scarfed down the bread basket, Anna Nicole said she loved my irreverent attitude. Where did I acquire such keen insight? Oh, ANS (I called her ANS), 'twas a misguided master's degree in French that led me to my fiery intellect. Then we made love as the sun rose. Anna Nicole pledged her enduring passion to our union and so now we're totally devastated--but really, we only care about the baby. We don't want the little pookie's money. Not at all, because Dish doesn't work in a profession that pays next to nothing.

Oh...why didn't we come forward sooner? Because our feelings for Anna Nicole were so strong, we felt we had to stay away. Plus, we couldn't afford airfare to the Bahamas. It had nothing to do with Howard K. Stern inciting instantaneous and embarrassing gas in our intestines. We tried everything to convince her of our viability as a provider. She whipped us off a nasty text to stay away, so we were like see ya. Now, we just want what's best for Daniella (Danikendra?). Publicity isn't important because we're already famous (in our field, well, maybe in our family, okay famous in spirit) and don't need a reality show--though if anyone wants to film us, we look excellent on camera and will pose nude for the right bank.

Oh, Anna Nicole, we'll never forget our night together and how sad you're gone. We'll carry on the torch of excellence and search out the quiet, private life you always wanted.

(But seriously, quel sadness. RIP, girl)

Today's Icky Shudder Moment

Have you seen the cover of today's Post? Giuliani and his good friend, Mrs. Giuliani, are making out in a TMI moment we haven't felt in, well, weeks (since the Britney commando watch). And it quotes Judith as saying her husband is like the "Energizer Bunny," as if we're supposed to think this applies to his professional stamina. We don't know when we've been so traumatized. The man who pushed porn up a couple blocks from Disney Avenue, left the city in financial ruins, is now running for president and sporting a sexier (icky shudder) image. This, the man who had a big-ass affair for all the world to see, making a fool of his wife--who then had to demean herself by appearing in bit parts in movies (not that there's anything wrong with this, we'd capitalize like crazy ourselves). The worst part is now we have a bad visual sequence of their marital life in our head. The Monica-Bill affair was much more palatable than this. Sex and politics together makes for overall nastiness.

To combat this horror, our new crush this week is Patrick Warburton (aka Putty from Seinfeld, high five) in the new CBS show Rules of Engagement. The show is a little bit funny, thanks to Warburton, but he simply steals it from everyone else. How he isn't hugely famous is the mystery of our era.