My journey to Ireland was indescribable. Please just take a look at this Press Enterprise blog, which sums it up pretty well!
My husband looks a lot like Jack Nicholson. I am starting this blog because I feel this whole experience is a study in human behavior, a social study of sorts. I am going to write about my experiences being married to a “quasi-celebrity,” reflecting on the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. To catch up, I may write about a few past experiences that stand out amongst the rest.
Why does any of this matter? Well, it doesn’t really, but I have found that some people find the celebrity world somewhat fascinating, and my experiences come from a slightly different vantage point.
Norman had an audition in West Hollywood. He was auditioning to play a “Merman” in a 100-million-dollar feature film to be shot in China. It was a speaking role and when reading the “sides” (a small piece of the script), we couldn’t tell whether or not it was a comedy.
It seems like a good gamble that a film with a “Merman” would be a comedy, especially since his lines involved killing someone with an electric eel. So when I was coaching him through his lines the night before the audition, he put a hilarious spin on the role. We thought it was good. He went to the audition and Norman claims the casting director appeared to love him, but she said he was like a “drunk Johnny Depp pirate”. A compliment, indeed, or at least that’s how Norman took it. She also asked him to tone it down a bit and whether or not he had done stand up comedy.
I always wish I could be a fly on the wall when he auditions; he doesn’t always read people very well and I am his acting coach, his publicist, and agent, so it only seems fair I could see my protégé in action. But this is not allowed; I must wait for him to come out after the audition and interpret what happened based on his recollection of the reactions given. He didn’t get the role, but what happened next was really fun.
We took my daughter and her boyfriend out to a lunch place called “The Newsroom”, which is across the street from the famous “Ivy” on Robertson in Beverly Hills.(The Ivy is way above our price range, but we did eat there once.) We had a nice lunch, then left the restaurant.
Upon exiting, we were bombarded from apparently tipped-off paparazzi. The flashes were clicking, my daughter and her boyfriend were very surprised. My daughter started waving to them, and it looked like she was covering her face, which added to the intrique. When the guy with the video camera started asking Norman questions, he asked,”Are you TMZ?” They said, “Yes.” Norman said, “Well…Harvey Levin’s going to kick your ass because I’m not Jack!” (Harvey is the host of the TMZ celebrity TV show.) They said, “No way!”, and starting saying they were no longer professionals because of this. They said they just demoted themselves. They said it was an uncanny resemblance and told Norman they had a whole list of things they were going to ask him, they were so prepared.
Another set of photographers followed us and jumped ahead to get some shots of Norman. It was crazy. We haven’t seen the footage on TMZ yet, but it was sure a fun experience. We could see how it could get old pretty fast though. Heck, had I known this was going to happen, I would have fixed my hair in the restroom before leaving the restaurant.
UPDATE: A month or so later we saw one of our acting friends and they said they had seen us on TMZ. We never saw it, but we pretty much know how the whole scene must have been presented on TMZ.
After my nephew’s fabulous wedding and reception, we decided to go to an English Pub in Redlands. It was fun, people were getting their photo taken with Norman and it was a very friendly and positive experience.
People came up and talked to us about how much he looks like Jack and how cool it was, etc….the usual. We met a nice couple and they said they were going to the Boiler Room, another bar down the street. They asked if we would like to go, too. We said okay and we left the pub. Well, most of us left the pub. I thought, where the heck is Norman? Oh, he is probably getting his photo taken by a large group of people who waited too long and saw him leaving.
This always happens right when we are leaving. And it is true, he had been stopped by a few women on the way out but when I returned, I saw his passage being blocked by what appeared to be a 7-Foot Englishman. He was being really hostile to Norman, like asking him why he tries to fool everyone, calling him “NormJack” over and over and over. I think perhaps he was the only one fooled and he had far too much to drink. I tapped him on his waistline, as high as I could reach, and asked him to let Norman go. Just then the guys at the bar, who knew Norman wasn’t Jack, but wanted their photos taken earlier just the same, started chanting, “Let Jack Go! Let Jack Go!” Other than your routine impending bar fight, my mind couldn’t help thinking this English Giant was about to chant “Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a fake Jack Nicholson” and tear Norman into little hand-held morsals.
Finally, I went back outside and asked the guy we were with to help rescue Norman. This guy was the nicest person you could ever meet, mild-mannered, kind, gentle, yet comparatively small. Bravely, he went into the pub and somehow, though a high level of charm or some other magical powers, was able to convince the towering Englishman to let Norman go. Wow, we dodged that bullet!
So we walked down the street to the Boiler Room, where somehow the DJ was already tipped off that Jack Nicholson was coming, and our arrival was “announced” over the loud speaker as we walked in. It was unexpected and slightly annoying. Does Jack really have to put up with this treatment EVERYWHERE he goes? When he goes shopping for groceries at Pavillions, does the senior checker announce over the intercom system, “Jack Nicholson has arrived on aisle 9.”
We were invited to the mansion for a product launch party. The beverage that was being promoted was getting released in the United States for the first time. We had a great time walking the grounds, visiting the grotto where I proceeded to hit my head and almost got knocked out. We also toured the game room and visited the “zoo” they have on site with a white parrot who has a classy British accent.
Suffice it to say, Norman was getting more attention than the women who had painted costumes on. I was mostly impressed by the full ornate bars that were completely carved in ice.
We didn’t meet Mr. Hefner, but we saw him working at his desk, in his robe, up on the second floor.
After the “Make Me Young: Youth Knows No Pain” HBO Documentary film premiere screening and after party, we decided to go downtown and check out Times Square. We had some of the cast members with us, who were mostly black-dress-wearing blondes. Things were going quite well and Norman was getting his photo taken by people as we walked along. The next thing we know, Norman is approached by a small team of policemen. I thought, “What did he do now?” and was concerned he had committed some kind of unique crime that only New Yorkers would know is illegal. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to go up the red stairs without a paid ticket, or perhaps he isn’t supposed to have a cigarette, even if unlit, in a public place. Nope. It wasn’t any of those things.
Norman was in violation of a little known city code regarding the public engagement of a large crowd. The policemen did a hand gesture behind us. We
turned around and saw that there was a healthy crowd of people following just behind us. Fans of all shapes and sizes, backgrounds, and ages. We said, “Can’t you just break the group up? It’s not our fault.” “No, you must leave this site immediately.” Okey dokey! Now we can say we have officially been kicked out of Times Square.
|We recently went to La Quinta, California for a conference I needed to attend. The temperature was hot, around 114 degrees at times. I brought Norman along to the evening reception and ended up passing out a lot of Norman’s business cards to people who thought he was “Jack” and wanted their photos taken with him. One lady even bought him a drink for a photo, which was a rare experience.The brand new business cards, which have “I’m Not Jack” on one side along with a photo of Norman, his websites, and his art photos and art info on the other side, were very well-received. Later that night, we ventured out for dinner to Applebees in La Quinta, so we could have a great salad. The staff there seemed to be mezmorized by Norman and we ended up having about 13 servers…I think each of them wanted to get a good look at Norman, thinking he was Jack. The manager offered us free dessert and an extra salad (since I ordered the wrong one)…which we turned down, but seriously the service ROCKED!|