The Premiere

One week ago today, I had completed a series of tasks. I got a haircut. I had gone tanning. Twice. And I had gotten my pants dry cleaned. All these tasks needed to be completed by one week ago today.

Why, you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you. Because when you go to a red carpet movie premiere where Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt will be most definitely making an appearance, then you really don’t have a choice, do you? Exactly.

So after work my co-workers, Jill and Courtney, and I met up with the Blessed Angels who sang sweet songs of joy to us. AKA emailed us and said ‘Hey! Want to go to a movie?’.

Nothing really fascinating happened as we walked into the theatre. We looked for the stars, but the closest one any of us saw to even being remotely famous was that man who always touches the croissants in the hole before putting them back down, having decided that this particular croissant did not meet his standards.

We happened to be sitting in the front row of the media section, meaning we were at the halfway mark in the theatre, seated a few steps above everyone else. If you were to walk by the three of us, I think an appropriate reaction would be ‘My goodness, you’ve done a lot of cocaine’. Celebrity hunting is a very time consuming, energy sucking experience, as you don’t know where those wily bastards will pop out from behind next.

It was about 10 minutes after we sat down that we saw the wiliest bastard of them all. Standing right in front of us was King TV himself, Regis Philbin. Just standing there. Talking. To some woman. Just like a real person would.

The woman turned around to say hi to a passerby, and there was celebrity sighting number 2. Marlo Thomas. I think. I’m pretty sure it was That Girl, but I could be mistaken. Either way, they were right in front of us, breathing the air we exhaled. Which can only mean that Regis, Marlo and I are forever connected.

From that point onward, we saw so many celebrities, we had to beat them down with a machete just to see the other ones. Martha Stewart was there, wearing a black suit and looking not nearly her age. Geraldo Rivera, accompanied by his moustache, came and sat several rows in front of us. Annie Leibowitz, who bears a striking resemblance to Jane Goodall, was seated no more than 4 rows away.

Then the floor began to rumble, and the roof tore off the building as the heavens opened up and a chorus of cherubs flew down, sprinkling rose petals and playing their harps. The doors near the screen opened up, and a dazzling light flooded the room.

Angie and Brad arrived.

On TV and in the magazines, they are both beautiful. But in person, their beauty pretty much transcends description. All I know is that after seeing them in their glory, I don’t see colors properly any more.

The movie itself was spectacular. A Mighty Heart comes out this Friday, and I suggest you all go see it.

After the film, we quickly got out of our seats to claim ground in the lobby, so as to see everyone we missed. The only one we saw that was of note was Jeremy Piven, which ended up just making us feel sad because he is so short and very much alone and was oozing a kind of ‘I know some pretty lady wants to talk to me…right?…pretty ladies?…’ kind of vibe.

It was at this point that we decided to head back downstairs and make our way to the after party. However, in true John fashion, an exit can never be just an exit. Nor can a moment in my life be anything but abnormal and over the top.

All it took, in this case, was for Jill to say ‘Isn’t he famous? The guy going down the stairs?’, and I was off, running down the escalator to meet up with him at the first floor. I may or may not have shoved people aside in my flurry to view someone who quite possibly is nothing more than the man who told us no, we can’t walk the red carpet because we’re not famous, so please stop trying to lie and pretend you are.

Thankfully, this turned out not to be the case, as Ryan Reynolds walked by us and outside.

So yeah. At this point, we’ve pretty much seen more celebrities than ever before in our lives combined. And it was now time to go to the after party.

But that, Internet, is another post…

Oh The Stories I Have For You, Readers!

(or My Job Is Pretty Freakin’ Awesome)

Yesterday I had gone to lunch with a rep at one of those restaurants that hang up pictures of a grinning owner posing with all the celebrities who dine there. Jennifer Lopez, Chris Rock, Sean ‘Puffy’ Combs…there was no empty wall space to be found.

Factor in that along with what happened the previous night [that will be another post...let's just say it involves Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Jeremy Piven and the Duchess of York] and you have a very star stuck John. Everyone that walked in the restaurant was a celebrity I must not have recognized. Every person with an oversized ring was a star I didn’t know. This made me a very awkward person to be around. Especially when I left for the bathroom just to get a better look at the rest of the tables.

I only saw one celebrity I recognized. Christopher Masterson, the oldest brother on Malcolm in the Middle. Throughout the entire meal, it was like I was looking for a hit of celebrity to ease the pain of withdrawl [again, you'll read about why next post].

The rest of the day was supposed to be quiet and uneventful. Then I got a VIP ticket to The Daily Show. Co-workers throughout the floor were then alarmed to hear what they could only assume was a 7 year old girl screaming down the hall.

Friends. Can I tell you that going to The Daily Show, while in the front row of the VIP section, only feet away from Jon Stewart, is a thrilling. Actually seeing how the show was taped and produced was incredible, and going home to watch it on TV after having seen it recorded in person was so much fun. Getting to see Angelina Jolie for the second time in two days, however, was pretty much the coolest thing to happen to me since graduating college.

Next post? Red carpet movie premiere, after party and celebrity gossip.

I’m So Going To Write An Angry Letter

Because friends?

This is bullshit.

Health reasons my ass. It’s called withdrawal, you drugged out booze hound. And you need it.

All Signs Point To ‘I Was A Dumb Kid’

I was grocery shopping today and the song If You Don’t Know Me By Now by Simply Red came on, and it shot me back to when I was 5 years old.

I didn’t know up until writing this post that Simply Red sang this song. Until I was about ten, I thought another famous person wrote it.

That famous person being Rumplestilskin.

See, when I was a kid, I always thought that Rumplestilskin was singing this song to the woman he kept prisoner. And he sang this song to her before she made her final guess as to what his name was. Which, even in my 22 year old head, makes nothing but the perfect sense. Because Rumplestilskin believed that if she didn’t know him by now, then she would never ever ever know him.

Oooh. No she won’t.

It made me think of all the other things that I had weird stuff I thought and did when I was little. For example…

The only thing I thought the zipper on the front of my pants was used for was making it easier for lazy people to put on pants. I never used the fly. Ever. It wasn’t until one day in third grade when I was peeing at the urinal in school when an older kid made fun of me for how I peed.

I think I should point out that, up until that very moment, pulling down my pants and underwear was a completely acceptable way of urinating.

So when the older kid walked into the bathroom and saw my bare ass standing at a urinal, pants around my ankles and mind concentrating on the job at hand, the urge to tease me mercilessly probably felt as strong as the urge to breathe, or eat. That was when I learned what the zipper was for. 3rd grade.

Another period in my life I believed that all that was involved in singing was breathing differently. So, when the people I babysat for got me an answering machine for Christmas, instead of recording an outgoing message, I would record myself singing so I could play it back and listen to my progress.

I thought this would surely improve my singing. If only I could breathe right. And if I didn’t sound amazing, then the breathing wouldn’t be correct.

I don’t think I abandoned this train of thought as much as I was embarrassed out of it. After a particularly grueling session of singing, I decided I needed a break and went out with a friend. When I got back, the answering machine was blinking. My jaw dropped and my entire insides turned to lead. I pressed the ‘Play’ button.

There was a long pause, then finally someone said ‘Uhh…this is Mike’s [my brother] baseball coach…um, practice is canceled today…alright…bye’.

I’m pretty sure this would be any one’s reaction if they heard a kid belting out One Sweet Day by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men as an outgoing message.

I also had a lingering fear that masturbation did, indeed, cause acne. The fear was never great enough for me stop. But great enough for me to be really worried after.

All this makes me wonder what things I’ll look back on when I’m older that will make me think ‘I’m surprised I didn’t accidentally kill myself, I was so dumb’.

What about you? What things did you think and do when you were younger that you later realized were just completely wrong?