This morning I was in the parking lot of the pharmacy when an old woman with a rat’s nest for hair, clothes presumably dripped in stale coffee and vinegar, and bright red lipstick likely put on by candlelight and with goggles tapped on my windowsill. Though at first alarmed she might have confused me with someone who kidnapped her cat or removed the plugs on the bottom of her walker I lowered the window. She wanted to compliment me on my hair. “It’s pretty”, she said. I should also note I still had bed hair, dirty and upswept into a pre-aerobic chignon. Translation = I looked like shitake. I could have sat and cried in my car but instead chose to thank the kind lady and go on with my business. Because when it comes down to it having someone who probably is on heavy doses of medication and shops at the gift shop at a mental institution tell you that your dirty hair looks pretty is actually pretty hilarious. And there are also more important things for me to get wound up about, like world hunger, the Lance Armstrong doping inquiry, and what has happened to LaToya Jackson’s music career.
Tom Cruise doesn’t understand this.
Last night he was the fourth person in history to receive the Friars Club Entertainment Icon Award. Previous winners were Douglas Fairbanks, Cary Grant, and Frank Sinatra. The Friars Club is best known for searing celebrity roasts. Sinatra, for example, loved a good roast. Totally at ease getting skewered. He probably chose friends based on how well they could tease him. Not Tomas Cruise. No way, man. He was adamant that the event “honors” him and that he pre-approve any speakers.
He seems like an absolute blast, right?
Like he can’t just relax for one minute and laugh. You know what it’s probably like being Tom Cruise’s buddy? It’s always a competition. You just want to hang out at his beach house and he wants to race jet-skis. You can’t play darts without him flipping out about the score. And you can NEVER win.