Late last year, I imposed a ban on purchasing anything having to do with celebrity gossip (except Instyle, purely for the fashion people). I found myself spending entirely too much time eavesdropping and opining on the sad, sorry lives of prepubescent celebrities. Let's face it, it's much easier to tsk tsk the lives of anonymous trainwrecks than it is to focus on the stuff you really should be focusing on...working out, nourishing friendships, growing your own food (kidding) um, working. To make money. To support your lifestyle. So, no more Peoples, US Weeklys, goodbye Life & Style, see ya OK. I just can't help but think there's something sort of wrong with a 30+ professional woman fueling the hysteria surrounding these child celebrities. My life as a voyeur. Au Revoir.
My husband, on the other hand, has no interest in the celeb mags. He couldn't tell you the channel for E and I'm sure believes E, TMZ and Entertainment Tonight are one and the same. If asked, he'd tell you Perez Hilton is a hotel in South America. But give him a celebrity in the flesh and the. man. changes.
Paradise Island, Bahamas, 2003. Salma Hayek and Pierce Brosnan were filming "After the Sunset." We were lounging on the beach and a very beautiful, tiny woman walks by with a friend and several dogs. My husband hates dogs. I had no idea the woman walking by was Salma Hayek, but my husband knew immediately. And immediately developed a fondness for wet labradors. He swears he and Salma exchanged "a look." I told him I would leave him if he followed her to tell her she should have won the Academy Award for "Desperado." He got a sunburn on one side of his face watching her walk away. Into the sunset.
Anguilla, 2004. Lounging on the beach. Three umbrellas down is another tiny woman with a distinctive laugh along with a very pale, paunchy husband and naked boy child. I have no clue who this woman is. (Seriously, I could snap her in two with one hand.) E knows immediately. Sarah Jessica Parker. Matthew Broderick. Child. They get up to go get in the water. My husband decides a swim sounds great too. I grab hat and book and shake my head. To this day, E will tell anyone who'll listen that he and SJP went swimming together. It's a big sea, my friend.
So we're off to the beach, and the first question my darling husband will ask, anyone, is "Are there any famous people here?" (Imagine his sad face when the response is "Marilyn Monroe, once.") Nope, if they're there, I'll ignore them, hide my face, mind my own business. Picture of nonchalance. I've got other things to do. Unless.
It's George Clooney.