Gosh, I've only been on the job for less than a week and already I'm getting hate mail! Here I am thinking my Elisabeth Shue-esque (circa Adventures in Babysitting not Leaving Las Vegas) '80s girl-next-door likeability will shine through the snarkiness, but apparently I'm mistaken. A certain mad cow of a reader wrote that I make her "sick" thinking I'm "so high and mighty and intellectual," then conjectured that I'm a "fat, hook-nosed pig". Yowza! But, duh -- pigs don't have hook noses, sweetie-pie-hole, they have snouts. Even the special ed kids know that...Look Perez, I know it's you, and I hear you're telling everyone I made up my name too. Oh wait, I did. Biznatches of a feather, indeed.
Speaking of '80s stars, my sister-in-law reported back on a "blast from the past" sighting last week. (Sorry, I've been vacationing on a private beach so I'm relying on my spies for some celeb gossip this time 'round.) So, my sis was visiting Montreal during the annual comedy festival and saw Jonathan Silverman. Remember him? You know, the dorky best friend in Girls Just Want to Have Fun and Weekend at Bernie's (I & II)? Anyway, he's got a 27 year old fiancée now (he's 41) and they were seen shopping in the underground mall... and I'd like to think they hit up a strip club for a little game of "Tune in Tokyo" afterwards.
Personally, I love seeing/talking to hasbeens. I think it's way more fun than talking to stars who are popular now because these people actually want to tell you stuff. One of my favorite stories I ever reported was a Grammy "Where are They Now?" article: Young MC ("Busta Move"), Baja Men ("Who Let The Dogs Out"), Paula Cole ("Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?" - I still ask myself this, by the way) and Coolio ("Gangster's Paradise") were but a few of my subjects. I chatted with Coolio for almost 2 hours and at the end of our conversation he thanked me, told me he loved my name and intended to name his next daughter after me. Needless to say, I doubt I'd get the same complimentary treatment from, say, P.Diddy. Although Camron hit on me at a party once and gave me his phone number. Not too shabby.)
But back to the hasbeens: Do you remember Elias Koteas? He was the tough guy with a heart of gold in Some Kind of Wonderful, and more recently, a cop in Zodiac. Well, old Elias asked for my phone number at an Oscar party at the Spotted Pig this year (FYI: Liev Schrieber and Michael Stipe were there too, rubbing elbows with media minxes like Jossip's Debbie Newman, Us Weekly's Noelle Hancock and the Daily News's Laura Schreffler). Look, I don't care if Elias is like 50 and bald now, I had a major crush on him back in '87. And I think he sensed the Leah Thompson-esque teen heroine underneath my jaded, slutty, social-climbing, namedropping New York City gossip girl exterior. Alas, he did not call. Hmmm, could I seriously go out with a man old enough to be my father anyway? I suppose just by asking that question, I'm clearly not media whorelot Julia Allison. Oh yeah, I almost forgot she was ho'ing herself around that same Oscar party too!
All right, I know you must be bored -- so onto the real goods: My cousin who works for a certain TV tabloid informed me that Justin Timberlake -- or as I like to call him J. Trousersnake -- opened his very own restaurant in Manhattan this week (my cuz attended the fete). But here's the thing: The joint is located on the Upper East Side. It's like he's aiming for mediocrity. Everyone who's anyone knows that the trendy restaurants are all located below 23rd Street. I mean, seriously...which is probably why the majority of the "celebs" who showed were B-listers: Lance Bass, Reverend Al Sharpton, Seth Green, Jamie-Lynn Sigler, Damien Fahey and Sherri Saum (Rescue Me). Now there's a motley crew to make a junior publicist proud. Luckily, Jay-Z and Jessica Biel showed up to lend their, uh, support to his pulled pork. I just hope J.T.'s homespun menu of southern comfort food is yummy enough to bring the sexies back. Collard greens? Anyone, anyone? Didn't think so.
Later that eve, T.Snake and J.Booty escaped the paps and snuck into a curtain-shrouded booth at The Box in the Lower East Side (which is, of course, a way cooler hood than the Upper East). Quick aside: Does Meadow -- I mean, Jamie-Lynn -- go anywhere without her girlfriend Lance Bass? And should Scott Sartiano be worried that a gay former boy bander is monopolizing his woman? He better start looking for a new starlet (Ashley Olsen is so 2005) to date ASAP... perhaps someone with a new TV show or movie coming out... I have an idea! How about aforementioned gal-about-town Julia A.? She's always available (if the publicity is right).
But let's get back to me, shall we? After a week "away from it all," I was anxious to return to the city. And who is the first famous person I see? Yet another hasbeen -- but one of my all-time faves -- Tatum O'Neal. Unfortunately, the youngest Oscar winner ever (for 1973's Paper Moon) was not making out with another woman at Pop Burger or boozing it up at Indochine (like the last times I saw her), she was merely exiting an Equinox gym with her son. Yawn. However, my friend J.J. saw Seann William Scott outside the Fat Black Pussycat on Christopher Street, yapping on his cell phone. Note to Stifler: Hanging around that particular street in the West Village will only increase those pesky gay rumors.
And you know what's even gayer? Seeing wannabe socialite Kristian Laliberte staring back at me from Page Six this weekend. Seriously, I almost barfed. Coincidentally, Laliberte once told me a story about accidentally throwing up on a homeless person. Classy.
I must admit, I felt a bit like an overly effete snob myself at the Siren Festival in Coney Island this weekend. While bands like We Are Scientists, MIA and Voxtrot were great, the crowd and the smell was not. Luckily the Brazilian Girls show in Central Park on Sunday made up for the annoying scene on Saturday. Plus, I got to hear one of my favorite all-time songs "Pussy" (chorus: "Pussy, pussy, pussy marijuana...") live. Three cheers for toking in the park!
Peace out,
Misty
