We went to Toast Café on 3rd in Hollywood to have lunch yesterday while we were in the area. While waiting for our table, Norman met someone who went to high school with Jack Nicholson’s daughter.We got seated and, due to the heat, I took off my jacket to reveal my not-often-presented arms to the world. I thought, who really would care about, or even notice, my flabby white limbs? “I got nothin’ to lose”, I felt at that weakened moment in the heat. Our daughter, Paris, is becoming gifted at spotting paparazzi. While we were eating lunch, she said, “Mom, there is a paparazzi standing over there.” I turned and didn’t see anyone suspicious looking. She said she had identified someone with a large bag who appeared to have no real purpose but kept moving to different locations along the sidewalk. Anyway, we proceeded to talk to the man behind us who had custom made jeans for his dog, pocket chains and all. I even took a picture of the spoiled critter. It turns out the dog’s owner was an international DJ who said he would love for Norman to attend some of the parties he works. We handed him one of Norman’s business cards, then we watched him and his blue-jean-wearing dog and model girlfriend drive away in their Ashton Martin vehicle. After we finished eating, I decided to walk alone to get our car down the street and offer curb-side pickup to my family. So I am walking down the street and I heard someone running behind me, then along side of me, then in front of me running backwards. I said aloud, “Oh no!” The experienced backward-runner pulls out his camera and starts flashing. I put my head down and let my thick blonde mane fall forward, because…well…it seemed like the right thing to do to try to hide the large pimple that erupted on my forehead earlier that morning. Perhaps the blocking of my face only added to the scene. I got into my Prius with newly darkened windows and drove around to pick up my family. They were photographed non-stop until we sped off down a side street. “Why are we speeding down a side street?”, I thought.Later that day, after attending an art gallery show and going shopping at The Grove, we went to check out the ArcLight Los Angeles movie theater, since Norman will be attending his HBO Documentary film premiere there mid-week. We wanted to investigate the location we have heard so much about. The theater has a completely different feel from any we have attended—very high end. The gift shop, alone, is a worthwhile event. We saw at least one celebrity—Indian beauty Mindy Kaling who plays chatty Kelly Kapoor on the NBC sitcom The Office. She was just hanging out with her friends, with her cute higher-than-normal voice.
After watching the tear-jerking “The Time Traveler’s Wife” film, we left the theater. My daughter and I were ahead of Norman, and we realized when we got to the elevators for the parking structure that we had lost Norman altogether. We waited, and then around the corner came Norman with a security guard. I said to Paris, “Oh great, what did he do NOW??” Norman then proceeded to tell me that he had “special security detail” assigned to him who would be escorting us to our car. Now that’s what I call a theater experience. At 10 pm, our final event was to attend an invitation-only underground art opening on Melrose. It was a surreal experience; it should have been filmed for your stereo-typical goth party scene in a movie. The art was all creepy with lots of skulls, bones, and blood, with death-to-everyone rock playing loudly in the background. Some of Norman’s darker sculpture work would have actually fit in quite well. Being the only blonde in the place I stood out like a sore thumb, not to mention the fact that, while everyone else was in scantily-clad leather, tattoos, and nose-rings, I had a business jacket on. At least my jacket was black. Well, I tried to fly under the radar, but unfortunately, I got the attention of the whole place when I toppled over a glass of white wine onto a table. I understood how Pee Wee Herman felt when he knocked over the row of Hells Angels motorcycles like a cheap set of dominos. Needless to say, we quickly left the place and drove home to see our happy puppy. That was enough excitement for the day. |
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
I Become a Member of the Paparazzi
“TMZ Staff” took this photo. (I’m that staff member.)
One fine fall day in 2008, we were walking down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, and there drives by Larry King, who couldn’t help but notice “Jack” (Norman) was walking outside of Harry Winston’s diamonds. Perhaps this bothered him that Jack had someone important to purchase diamonds for, or perhaps Jack owed him some money.
This scene became so distracting to Larry, that he backed up into a Maserati when trying to quickly park.
So, like any good enterprising citizen would, I whipped out my iPhone and snapped a photo of the security guy checking out the damage Larry had done.
One hour later, I had myself a deal with TMZ. So yes, I am officially a “paid paparazzi”, and the photo above is the proof.
Are Tweens Like Honey Bees?
You are a quasi-celebrity sitting in a cafeteria-style lunchroom with hundreds of pre-teens. This group, in general, behaves without any form of self control, precisely the way all humans would if they could. For this reason, “tweens” are probably the best study group on human behavior. The tweens spot you and word spreads like an audience wave at a baseball game. The tweens now engage in an unusual, yet telling human behavior, directed at you and your family. Their behavior implies the following:
1) You are completely deaf:
They talk aloud about the you within a 10-foot range. Are they assuming you are sitting inside your fan-suppressing housing unit with your sound shield fully engaged?
2) You are completely blind:
They stare, photograph, videotape, giggle, whisper, and then plot to waylay you in a Lord-of-the-flies-style takeover. They do this with the sincere belief that neither you nor your family can discern their stealthy operations.
3) You are now their personal property:
Once their takeover operation is complete, they follow their captive around like bees protecting their queen. They are fully responsible for your safety and will defend you against all unknowing fans.
Fully-grown tweens carry on similar behavior but much more surreptitiously. They have developed their operations over years of real-world training, and now have the discipline and craft refined to a level only discernable by a few of the best and brightest quasi-celeb spouses out there.
