Heavens. To Betsy. Our first tale had me squealing like a coked-up 13-year-old girl with a new Discover Card. Which isn't all that hard, but still. "Valerie" reports that at a recent screening of Adaptation at the Guild, the fingers of fickle fate plopped her down in a seat that provided a barely obstructed view of the Mr. and Mrs. Bill Gates!
"Bill's posture was poor," alleges "Valerie." And his laugh? Well, she said something snotty about it that I'd rather not pass along, and I hope that Mr. Gates has enough character to remember the favor. Ahem. Besides, Bill's "obnoxious" laugh isn't what tickled my fancy little fancy, anyhow. But this is: Seconds after the final opening credits, Melinda Gates rummaged a smuggled-in Ziploc baggie out of her pocket and began munching on whatever it might be that the Richest Wife Ever needs to smuggle into the movies. I can't imagine. Platinum-plated Goobers, maybe.
Melinda Gates is the coolest person on the fucking planet.
Well, she is now that poor Nell Carter has died. Only 54. Dreadful. True, almost everyone who ever worked with her claimed that she was more ornery than the Osbourne family dogs, but... well, it's bad luck to dis the departed. Hello? Ain't Misbehavin'? That fabulous sitcom back in the '80s that I'm far too young to recall, but which LAUNCHED the Joey Lawrence? Let me assure you that Ms. Carter's passing is as sad as that moment at the end of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas when all the prostitutes are kissing Dolly Parton goodbye and singing "Hard Candy Christmas" or whatever because the sheriff has had to shut the old Chicken Ranch down. Yes, THAT sad.
And does anyone have any clue who "consumer specialist Herb Weisbaum" is? Well, apparently he's got a big nose. Says who? Says "Jota," who claims to have spotted this person in the audience as he karaoked "With a Little Help from My Friends" at a place called the Rickshaw, which I've also never heard of. I have no idea what he's talking about.
And Dave Matthews seems to be mostly grocery shopping these days. "Purchasing produce, and pushing a shopping cart," is "S. R."'s report, which assures us that Dave is still as approachable and friendly as a really, really approachable and friendly thing that isn't necessarily Dave Matthews. "S. R." did, however, piss me off by omitting the name of the grocery store in question, clearly trying to curry Mr. Matthews' favor by keeping the secret. But I happen to know it was probably the Wallingford QFC. So don't screw with me, brownnoser.
