My Someday Neighbor

This is my new friend. Her name is Rachael. I'm thinking about moving back to Los Angeles to be her neighbor.

I should explain to you that I've been at a global conference on women's sexual and reproductive health called "Women Deliver" all week. In pursuit of this fascinating topic, I've interviewed a couple dozen people each day and although I have greatly liked many of them, I am pretty sure Rachael is my favorite.

Which is very unusual for me. Because the smiling, sweet, funny woman that you see there is in fact, an actress and director. Her full name is Rachael Leigh Cook.

You can see why she's famous, right? Great smile and bright, engaging eyes? Yes, yes. But I've interviewed a couple hundred celebrities in my life. I've generally thought most of them were a bit more of a pain than the interview warranted. And I'm pretty sure they thought exactly the same of me.

I didn't feel that way about Rachael. She was my third and final celebrity interview of the day.

The first actress was, as my British producer gently pronounced, "a bit of an ice queen." (This is a prime example of the British people's "gift for understatement.") I'm leaving her name out because this isn't a celebrity tell-all blog. It's People Are Candy and I'm thinking the first interview was a Zotz.

The second was Ali Larter, one of the stars of the hit show "Heroes" on NBC. She attended the conference with her mother, which was very sweet. She was very accomodating to us and at the same time, showed a good amount of concern for her mother's comfort and feelings, too. All in all, a solid "butterscotch" experience.

Rachael was with her assigned public relations "friends." We were scheduled for an interview an hour later, but then one of her companions trotted up and offered to bring her a bit earlier than previously agreed. My rule is "Always Accept What Is Offered" and so we immediately started to throw up lights to better photograph her.

A moment later, here came Rachael Leigh Cook, catching us with our proverbial pants... er, lights down. But she was agreeably nibbling on her boxed lunch, so she walked a short distance away where she seated herself on the stairs and finish her lunch.

We finished the lighting set up and I walked down to retrieve her. I hate to drag someone off mid-chew, (and it's hard to be demanding of someone who is already being extra accomodating) so I stood by chatting with her and the other two women as they mostly finished their meals.

As a lot of you probably know, some days I have "it;" some days I don't.

And by "it," I refer to my innate ability to be so utterly offensive in under ten seconds that everyone within a two mile radius gags on their veggie wrap and pasta salad.

This particularly day, I apparently left "it" at home. As I stood there and talked with these women, Rachael Leigh Cook turned out to be the nicest, funnest person I've met in awhile.

I liked her so much that I said, "If you and I lived on the same street, I believe we'd be great friends."

Not to worry; I have no intention of hustling off to LA to be someone's weirdo stalker-ratzi-fan-neighbor. (There's a wide-open "if" tucked in there.) I've still got stuff to do here.

Yet the conversation rambled along. We discussed my concern for American women's health and weight issues. She offered a theory that it's caused by hidden anxieties. I suggested it was caused by hidden sugars. And we laughed and chuckled over my angst-filled meeting of Arianna Huffington the day before. (Ms. Huffington was so stunning in person, that I tried to give her a compliment but instead, wound up with my foot so painfully far in my mouth that I'm pretty sure I was letting off toenail polish on the other end.) I'd been trying to talk myself out of my horror ever since, so meeting Rachael Leigh was both a relief and a delight.

And then it was something more.

I was about to begin her interview when I saw a few stray hairs. I pulled out a comb and asked if she minded if I gave her just a little... touch up? She has beautiful brown hair, but it's very humid here in Washington, so I smoothed it a tiny bit. Not so much, really, right? Right.

Here's where I knew we'd be the very best of neighbors and to me, she became and always will be "Rachael from The Block:"

When the camera turned on me for "reversals," she knelt down, retrieved the comb back out of my purse and started doing the same to my hair. Touching me up. Well, I never!!

I've interviewed a lot of people. I've had a lot of fun meeting them all. (Even the first celebrity of the day, admittedly a bit of a pill, was interesting.) But I found Rachael Leigh Cook to be one of the most genuine, open people I've met in awhile.

So forgive me, but I may buy that house and live in that flower-filled neighborhood in my mind for sometime to come.

And if People Are Candy, Rachael Leigh Cook seems like she might just be an (almond) Joy.

Let's Talk About TAYLOR, Please?

I've got a new theory about celebrities, apologies, and the stupidity of some people.

Now that the news cycle on someone's bad behavior is past 48 hours, and people are still talking about HIM, it's clear that he's worked this to his favor. And why? Because we gave it attention.

So here's my suggestion: every time you hear anyone talking about this rude incident, talk about Taylor Swift instead. If the other person continues to bring up the rude person's name, make a honking noise until the name is over. Then, resume talking about Taylor.

Or talk about whatever else you wish. Talk about a restaurant you've just been to, or a great meal you had at home. Bring up a good movie you've just seen, or better yet discuss the book you just finished. (You do still read, don't you?) Ask for advice on your Christmas list. Offer your latest money-saving tip for grocery shopping. Anything but the bad behavior that was recently rewarded with two days worth of attention and hype that would have otherwise required millions to achieve.

And let's figure out a way to do this every time someone behaves badly in public. Sure, there's a "watercooler effect" for a day. But two days? It apparently took the little jerk (did you see what a short little snit he is compared to the 19 year old that he stole the moment from?) over 24 hours to apologize. Are you thinking that delay was an accident?

I didn't hear an apology on Leno last night. He said he felt bad. He acted like he was the injured party. Huh? That was the time a sincere person would have apologized and left the spotlight. But to drag it into a second day? Let's tell him and every faker to come that we're not fooled.

It's time to change the national conversation to something and someone who can be a positive influence for us, rather than rewarding bad behavior with the attention that the jerk was apparently seeking all the time. Enough is enough!

PS: Please feel free to pass this along. Post it on your own blog or twitter it yourself. BUT ENOUGH OF THE EMO CREW!

The Next Day's Apology Is Just "More Attention," Isn't It?

We need a quick infusion of manners in this country. I realize that a certain segment of the society has grown up with parents that told them that anything they did was okay, and everybody got ribbons in the kindergarten race, but we need to wake up and relearn some manners.

First and foremost, we don't scream loud insults when someone is making a public speech.

Specifically, yelling "You lie!" at the President of the United States when he's addressing a joint session of Congress is not acceptable behavior. Someone ought to take Rep. Joe Wilson, (R) South Carolina, out behind a shed somewhere and give him a switching on his bare fanny.

I do not volunteer to be that person, and frankly, I'd like it to be his mama. She should have taught him better manners in the first place, but it's never to late to start, right?

I'm not a big fan of Obama; neither am I opposed to his administration. I'm sort of on the fence. On one hand, he does seem to want a lot of primetime access to the American people. On the other hand, I can't fathom why some Americans were opposed to his speaking to school children. Hasn't every other American president spoken to children at some point? Didn't that right come implicit with the big chair when we voted him in?

Second, when someone wins an award and is in the midst of her acceptance speech, perhaps even the part where sweet-as-sugar Taylor Swift says that winning was the dream of a lifetime, you don't storm the stage, snatch the microphone out of her hand and argue for someone else.

You just don't, Kanye West. And everybody in that auditorium knew it except you.

The place to do that, every bit as tacky and pointless, is back-stage where the press is gathered. "Tell it to the people who care," ie the media. Or blab it at the door of any of the after-parties that crowd the night ahead.

Oh, unless you want to have all the world's attention on you the next day, waiting for an apology and retribution. Unless the point was to hype your appearance on the opening night of Jay Leno's Tonight Show. Wowzer, there is some manipulation of the American public going on these days! Along with a deep understanding of the adage, "Any publicity is good as long as you spell my name right."

We have a lot of growing up to do in this country. Like a lot of Americans whose mindset wasn't incubated in a pool of money or power, I am hoping at some point, those at the "top" (wherever and whatever that means) will start to make some headway on that project.

A Tale of Two Spokesmodels

Gidget the Taco Bell dog is dead at age 15. Before we sound the celebrity mourning bells (is there a star on the Walk of Fame somewhere?), I'd be grateful if anyone can explain to me why the tiny dog with the big fake Mexican accent is less offensive than the Frito Bandito?

You remember Gidget, right? The tiny Chihuahua pooch who touted nachos and Gorditos with a flick of big eyes and oversize ears. She was the spokes-dog with the deep voice for Taco Bell from 1997 to 2000. She suffered a massive stroke earlier this week and was put down at 15, which in case you didn't know it is utterly ancient in spokes-doggy years.

My question is very simple: why is a dog with a heavy accent, a deep, gruff sounding voice and yen for a burrito so much more acceptable than a cartoon character who sings about stealing your chips?

The Frito Bandito was the cartoon spokesperson who hyped corn chips from 1967 to 1971, singing this song:

"Aye, yii, yii, yiiii, I am dee Frito Bandito. I like Frito's Corn Chips. I love them, I do. I want Frito's corn chips. I'll take them, from you."

The Frito Bandito was retired under pressure from the National Mexican-American Anti-Defamation Association and others, who didn't like the stereotype he represented. I don't quibble with the idea that perhaps the Bandito character was out of step with our "melting pot culture" in this country, but if so, why was Gidget not in the doghouse with the same group?

I may be mistaken, but this seems to me to be similar to my questions about rodents. To me, squirrels are merely rodents with fluffy tails.

And pigeons? They're flying rats. Research has shown that parasitic pigeons are a significant cause of "sick buildings" and lost productivity among American office workers.

Aren't Chihuahuas just dogs that Paris Hilton thinks make cute accessories? I think they might also be a good source of protein, but the larger breeds have more meat on them.

Carry on. I'm going to the kitchen for some Fritos. Blogging made me hungry.

More Media Insight

Since one of my friends commented on how much she enjoyed seeing "behind the scenes" of coverage of a big national story, such as Michael Jackson's death, I thought I'd show you some more of the pictures you didn't see.

We'll start with this first one. You see the young man "praying" there at the barricade in front of the dead singer's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Yeah. I first spotted him around 7am on June 27th. He had his head bowed over that guardrail but his eyes weren't actually closed.

Instead, his eyes were darting back and forth to checking to see who was watching him. He was positioned directly behind me, and as I watched a little longer, I could see that this "gentleman" was watching to see which cameras were on, and where he could best position himself to be in their line of sight.

That sounds pretty bad, but guess what happened next? I pointed him out to the BBC and Reuters photographers, and then the BBC cameraman shouts to the Reuters photog, "Hey, make sure you get a shot of that dude who's praying."

Guess what happened next? You got it: "praying dude" snapped his eyes shut and stayed that way off and on for the next two and a half hours. Whenever someone started to shoot, he started to pray. Not exactly sincere, is he? But he did make the LATimes, the TV Guide Channel and a couple of other media outlets. He invested 2.5 hours and got his 15 minutes.

You already saw this next fan. He claimed to be one of Michael Jackson's biggest fans, but apparently can't spell his idol's name correctly.

By the way, when I arrived at the Walk of Fame at 12am Friday night, I noticed a sharp increase in the number and quality of "party dresses." And not just any kind of party dresses. These were the most expensive, short little outfits I'd ever seen down there. Not a sparkly glove in sight.

To give you an idea, usually, the Friday/Saturday night crowds are bar-hopping, but these crowds were mostly on one side of the street: walking up and down in front the barricaded area of "the Walk." Maybe they were there to honor Michael Jackson, but they all seemed to want to get their moment in front of the cameras. Interesting, isn't it?

Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying. I don't want to suggest that Michael Jackson doesn't have his fans. He does. He was a huge influence in the music industry. He has legions of fans. His misfortune was dying in a town that is full of posers. And lots of those turned out to "honor" him and be photographed in doing so. It's stunning to think of the numbers of people who were hoping to be "discovered" at a sidewalk memorial, isn't it?

This photo shows the reporter and photographer in position for a live shot. You can tell the shot is coming up soon because my jacket is on. It was so warm that between shots, my jacket was off and the sun glasses were on.

Next is a picture of the reporter, in a rare moment of doing what she's supposed to do between live-shots. I'm supposed to sit down and update my information by reading wire copy stories on my pda and maybe do a little writing. Usually, I pace. I pace a lot. I like pacing. I think it should be a national sport. I could be an Olympian. But for this moment, I grabbed a chair, sat, and read.

This is a photograph of a happy and successful crew: two truck operators, a correspondent and a wonderful producer.

By way of explanation, I took no pictures from the first day after the 50 year old singer died. Candid pictures are something that gets done after the writing, tracking, shooting and other set-up are complete and between live shots. The first day's schedule was just too busy. We started at the Holmby Hills rental house at midnight, ran on to the Walk of fame at around 8 am, and then raced to the Los Angeles County Coroner's office by mid-morning. No time for intelligent, hard working and dedicated news crews to shoot pictures until Day Two and beyond.

Michael Jackson Coverage Pictorial...courtesy Ken Koller

Here are a few pictures of the two days I spent working with ABC News to cover the death of Michael Jackson. First, a scene-setter at the late singer's star on the Walk of Fame in Hollywood:


Trust me, you'd be wearing low-heeled, padded insole sandals, too. The pavement was hot and hard and the workday was 12 hours long.

All of these pictures were taken by the photographer friend I mentioned in the previous post. Ken Koller was dispatched to position a local news live truck at the scene. He didn't have anything to do but take the truck to find a parking spot and then keep it from getting towed. So instead of being bored, he walked around and chatted with friends and played with his new Sony digital camera. (I was so jealous. That camera was so tiny, yet took amazingly good pictures. Or rather HE took amazingly good pictures with it.)


The BBC was the second crew to show up at the star that day. (We were there first.) They were quite nice, neighborly and very fun. Although, I will say the "presenter" who was there earlier, Emily Maitlis, was a firecracker. This guy seemed a touch bland after her. But I rather think chili peppers might seem a touch bland after her.


Too many pictures spoil the reporter.


Day Two, Hour 11. Just a little exhaustion setting in.

This was my favorite fan who showed up.

He placed a plasma TV on Michael Jackson's star. Nothing on the screen. No hookup to a video. Just a screen. Right.

Oh, and check on the spelling on his dead idol's last name.

"J-A-C-H-S-O-N." Now THAT is love. Sure it is.

Next to me in this next photo is the lovely and talented Jen Weiss-Watts, just completing her first day ever as a field producer. She was everything needed, plus professionalism and kindness.



This was only Day Two. Doubtless there will be many more days to come in this story, but I'm off to new sights. Ta!

PS: I do feel bad that I only got photos with one producer, but during the first day, we changed locations three times and at the end of it, everyone scattered so fast there was no time for pictures.

Celebritolaramamanianessicity...

I'm just going to say what we've all been thinking for a very long time. It sucks being a celebrity, doesn't it? There. I've said it.

There are rumors out of Hollywood that celebrity participants Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt were evacuated to a hospital after Heidi started throwing up during "punishment" on a reality show. She and her um, husband/fellow spotlight chaser, are currently "starring" in the NBC primetime reality show, "I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!"

Or as I think of it when I think of it, "How Low Will I Go to Get Attention?"

So what happened? The truth of that depends on who you believe. This weekend's grab for attention by the Montag-Pratt duo included multiple attempts to quit the show earlier in the week. To punish them for this, the newlyweds were put in a darkened isolation chamber. Beyond that, the show's producers say the couple had food and water and spent most of their time sleeping. The entire thing was filmed and the couple emerged after several days "in great spirits."

But the couple and their relatives (entourage?) say that bugs were lowered in on them in the dark, there was no food, and when Heidi began throwing up, "She thought she was dying," according to celebrity-sister-in-law, Stephanie Pratt. Heidi Montag-Pratt was later diagnosed with a gastric ulcer.

Ok, but the name of the show is "I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here," right? And the premise is that bad things happen to famous people who then throw temper tantrums, quit the show and stomp off in a somehow entertaining display of poor sportsmanship, right? So... if they tried to quit, then why the punishment? Wasn't that the show's intention all along? Wasn't that where it was headed from the start? Wasn't that not just part of the game, but The Game?

It sucks being a young couple whose relationship beyond its publicity value has been questioned from the start. (You think that picture is annoying? Google their names and click on images. These two never miss a chance to pose.) Being stuck in a darkened room for 3 days with someone you married within the past year sucks. In the face of all that, the bugs seem a little extraneous, don't they?

What I really want to know is why do we pander to people who are so starved for attention? At what point are we going to realize that this is a sickness and we're abusing these poor, emotionally-deprived-as-children people in their endless search for someone to watch them.

In a real life display of... well, absolutely nothing, Kal Penn, the successful, working actor who quit the show "House" in favor of taking a public servants' salary for working in the White House Office of Public Engagement as a liaison to Asian American and Pacific Islander communities has gone off the radar. He's not at the set of "House," nor is he at the White House.

(You remember this story, right? In a moment of overwhelming love for his country, Kal or Kumar, if you know the "Harold and Kumar" movie series, said he was so excited about the prospects for change with the Obama administration that he longed to leave acting and work for that change with President Obama. And President Obama's office took him up on it.)

The White House denies that he's AWOL; they say he simply hasn't started the job yet. And as celebrities do, he had a prior commitment to shoot a movie in India.

That's a place where bugs really can fall through the roof in the dark of night. It sucks being celebrity, doesn't it?