13 February 2013

Last Wednesday Jacob and I found ourselves at the Chinese Theater for the premiere of this film which was produced by the good ole employer and payer of most bills Rhodes and for those reasons I will refrain from saying too much about the movie...except that neither Emma Thompson nor Jeremy Irons attended the premiere.  


I don't have any prom-esque pictures for you. Just this one of Jacob biting his lip and that will have to suffice

I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We’ve been to similar events before, but I’m sure I’ll always vainly enjoy seeing our name on The List. And the after parties are always top notch. Free food. Free drinks. Fancy hotels. Over the top décor. I mostly want to just retreat to the one open seat (Oh, wait. This couch is reserved for celebrities? And that one too? Oh all of them? Smile. Nod. Scurry away.) to drink in peace and talk to Jacob whilst eyeing the room for famous people. In no other circumstance do I catch eyes with strangers as often as I do at these parties, because everyone else – just like me – is looking around for famous people.

But the wifey didn’t get to hole up in a corner with her glass of red and instead had to go socialize with the coworkers. I don’t do a good job at this. I’m constantly juggling a plate of food, a glass of wine, and shaking hands with people while racking my brain to remember if I’ve met them before. At one point we were talking with the head of Jacob’s department, and I took a bite of salad and felt some roasted beet go tumbling out of my mouth. I figured it wasn’t too noticeable, and I didn’t want to draw any attention, so I played it cool, kept chitchatting, and internally apologized to the wait staff who’d soon have to clean up my droppings. The apology was ultimately unwarranted, however, because fifteen minutes of “hellos” and “how are yous” later I found the bit of food clinging to my bicep.

The night ended when the dessert was too sweet to warrant seconds and the memory of a 5:30 wake up was calling me back to my bed. But not without hi-fiving this old friend on our way back to the parking garage.


Such is another brief encounter with Hollywood since I know you, and I know you’re all just red-carpet-starved.

1 comment :

  1. Love me some Olivia deHavilland. Man I would dig going to one of those types of things ONLY if I was permitted to melt into the wall and observe. And perhaps have a martini or two.


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