What The Starlet Said...

I've been working with a Young Starlet lately, writing her vanity project. A movie star and former model, she is exceedingly beautiful. We have to spend a lot of time alone together at her mansion, often until late in the evening. She likes to wear skimpy clothing, calls me "angel" and squeezes my thigh emphatically when making a point.

God I fucking hate her.

My friends think I'm crazy. They're of the opinion that I'm "a lucky bastard" who has "no right to complain." One friend in particular told me to "stop being a pussy" and that he'd like to stab me repeatedly with a "shiv on the Big Yard." (Ok, Hector's actually more of a pen pal than a friend. He's currently serving 10-15 for armed robbery at San Q, but that's a whole other story...)

The thing is, I listen to my friends. And so I started to wonder, have I lost my perspective? Am I so jaded by my many years in The Suck that I can no longer appreciate the fun stuff?

Meditation was in order. I got quiet. Did some soul searching. Put a new roll of TP on the spindle (some of my best thinking happens on the pot). And here's what I came back with:

I still fucking hate the Young Starlet.

Because it doesn't matter that she's beautiful, or that I can sometimes see her boobs or that she gives me loads of special attention. As it happens, the woman I'm married to is drop-dead gorgeous, I can see her boobs (almost) whenever I want and nobody's attention is more special than hers. But most importantly, my wife is intelligent and enthralling without being pathologically self-absorbed.

What kills it for Young Starlet is that every time she opens her mouth, the most obnoxious things come out - and I'm not talking about Colin Farrell's sperm, though I'm sure that's happened a few times too.

No, I'm talking about things like this:

YOUNG STARLET: (yawns, bats her thick eyelashes sleepily) "Gawd, I'm SO tired. I went to see the Rolling Stones last night..."

ME: "Oh how was it?"

YS: "They're so much fun."

ME: "Yeah, we tried to get tickets. Hollywood Bowl, right?"

(She stares at me, confused. Awkward silence, then-)

YS: "Wha-? Hollywood Bowl? What are you talking about?"

ME: "The Stones. They played the Hollywood Bowl, didn't they?"

YS: "No angel! I went to a PARTY at their hotel..."

Who says "I went to see the Rolling Stones last night" assuming the listener will know this to mean "I HUNG OUT with the Rolling Stones?" Am I way off base here? I mean, if you partied with the fucking Rolling Stones, just say "I partied with the fucking Rolling Stones!" She was baiting me right?

Of course she was. I've learned that she likes to draw distinctions between my oh-so-pedestrian-little-family-life and her great-big-flashy-movie-star-life.

Whatever bitch.

Another thing she likes to do is tell anecdotes about movie stars that only reference them by first name. This requires me to play a guessing game to find out who the fuck she's talking about. Example:

YS: "I couldn't believe it. I threw a dinner party on Saturday and George showed up, uninvited and drunk like a skunk!"

ME: "George Bush?"

YS: "Nooooo...."

ME: "George Michael?"

YS: "Nooooo...."

ME: "Clooney?"

YS: (jumping up and down, clapping her hands-) "YES!!"

So obnoxious. It's like I'm a contestant on Family Feud. Here's another one she recently pulled:

YS: "You know, I didn't really know how to breathe properly until I worked with Ray. He's so brilliant."

ME: "Ray Charles?"

YS: "Noooooo....

ME: "Ray Romano?"

YS: "Noooooo...."

ME: "I don't know... fucking Ray Liotta?"

YS: (jumping up and down, clapping her hands-) YES!!!"

It's like this all the time. She baits me, and I bite like the star-effing fuckwit that I am. I should stop taking the bait, but I'm like Charlie Brown this way: I really think Lucy's going to hold that football for me, but she always jerks it away at the last minute and I go flying.

I'll be working with her for several more weeks, so I'll keep you posted as more pearls issue from her lips - and no, I'm not talking about Heath Ledger's spunk, but I'll let you know the minute that happens too.

Should be fun, kids. Tune in.