Monthly Archives: March 2012

Glitterati in the Mist

Glitterati in the Mist

 

This story is the stuff of legend among my peers. They’ve heard it many times and I hate to repeat it but also feel it belongs in the annals of history as one of my more humiliating moments.

A friend of mine, who is clearly better connect than I am,  was able to get us into the Elton John post-Oscar party one year. Turns out there is also a party within a party for the select few who are closest to him. We actually had to be on TWO lists held by snotty people with clipboards.

I had not really been out of the house much over the two years or so before this event as I had been held hostage by small twin boys and had experienced something akin to Stockholm syndrome. So, my social skills were lacking unless you needed your diaper changed or some barf cleaned up. These skills had been perfected back in college and came in handy now that I had these two terrorists in my life.

When we arrived we had to walk the paparazzi plank past no less than 50 cameras with the longest lenses I’ve ever seen. Even with all the primping, exfoliating and waxing (twice) I did, not a flashbulb went off. In fact, the disappointment on their faces was just awkward. I’d be paying with ingrown hairs for weeks, you bastards.

We had to be very careful when roaming amongst these special colorful animals. We had to assume the somewhat bored vestige of our fellow partygoers. One spark of giddy recognition and we’d be left to wander the unfriendly night of West Hollywood. You must philosophically squat amongst them, mimicking their actions like Dian Fossey in an evening gown.

Once inside, I was introduced to Sir Elton and was very graciously hugged and kissed… on the mouth. This took me aback, as you may expect. I chalked it up to being gay and European. I find both do things with more panache.

Being surrounded by so many famous people is too much for the normal person to bear, let alone me. I was profoundly uncomfortable and did what any self-respecting human would do – I got good and liquored up. My blood alcohol level and 4-inch heels were a lethal combination. Keep in mind that most of these people are either on their way to rehab or have just gotten out so the sight of me swaying in the wind on my stilts may have made them a bit skittish.

Like all really great ideas when one is tanked, I decided I needed to let Sir know exactly how much I loved him when I was in Junior High and what Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy meant to me. I had been sitting on a low chair just a few feet from him and as I went to get up my dress got caught under one of my heels. This sent me tumbling directly toward Sir and, to break my fall I grabbed for the nearest thing, which happened to be his orange-colored head. A beefy hand caught me a mere centimeter before I would have tumbled fully into Sir’s lap. Sir squealed and gave me a look of such horror you’d think I was bathed in blood. He was promptly herded back to his pack by his wranglers.

Suddenly there was a buzz in the crowd. The herd began to get skittish again. I noticed a very small man in a very bright red suit. An alpha had just arrived. I can’t type his name, it was formerly one thing but now is a symbol that my computer keyboard cannot duplicate…though an elaborate calligraphy set might. He took up residence in a corner in classic defensive position so he could see his enemies approach.

Luckily, his entrance had taken any attention away from me and the intervention I’m sure they were all planning. So much for blending in and studying these creatures in their habitat. I found my colleagues and regrouped.

Now that my cover had been blown, we left and went back to the real world where I had an appropriately undignified end to the evening as I spent it on the soothingly cool tile floor of my friend’s bathroom.

OMG I’m on IMDb

OMG I’m on IMDb

Every now and then I feel compelled to do a Google search on myself. Mostly I want to see if there is another Irene Barnett out there with a more interesting life – there is a nephrologist in Los Angeles who looks to have a much better life than I do. (What the hell is a nephrologist anyway? I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with banging dead people.)

As it happens, the other day when I did this, I came up on IMDb as an “actress”. The first entry was a weird movie I worked on many many years ago with a crazed lunatic of a filmmaker. I bought his “workshop” and flew to Las Vegas with a bunch of other suckers to learn how to be a guerilla filmmaker in the likeness of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. This experience really deserves its own post as I was literally stuck in the middle of Death Valley with a Mormon, a born-again Christian, a stoned sound guy and a crazy ballerina who looked like Gloria Swanson – all at a haunted hotel. I shit you not. If we all walked into a bar it would be a set up for a good joke.

The other entry was much more interesting – evidently I was “East End Girl #1” (that’s right, suck it East End Girl #2) in a TV mini-series called Shoulder to Shoulder in 1974. Evidently, this series dramatized the lives of the Pankhurst women and their role in the Suffragette Movement.  Yeah, I don’t know what any of that means either. Since I was pre-pubescent in 1974 and would most likely have remembered doing a TV mini-series. I wonder if that was the nephrologist working her way through med school.

Whoever played East End Girl #1 must be pissed that I’m getting her credit. But no more pissed than East End Girl #2 who, undoubtedly, had a life strife with disappointment and failure. While I, on the other hand, ride high on my fame and fortune. Suck it East End Girl #1.

I Mock Therefore I Am

I Mock Therefore I Am

So, a blog. I know this is what is done these days….sharing information with the world that you think they are clamoring for but, in reality, only you think is helpful/interesting/humorous/etc.  It always seemed akin to telling someone about your vacation to the Grand Canyon in molecular detail or talking about how your colon is doing – of great import to you but a painful and awkward experience for the recipient. Kind of like sex.

I work at home, alone, so I am thinking this is somewhat like my lunatic ramblings as I shuffle around my house in my slippers talking to my imaginary friends and co-workers. The way I see it, I’m just looking a little less insane to an outsider by purposefully writing it down because, dude, I am a BLOGGER!

A little about myself in case you are in the least bit interested. (If not, feel free to hit that little box with the x and get the hell outta here because you have THINGS to DO!) I’m the youngest of 6 kids, raised in a predominantly Irish Catholic family with a smattering of Chilean. We are a thick-skinned, sarcastic clan with excessive body hair. If we had a family crest it would be emblazoned with the words “I mock therefore I am”.

One of the biggest litmus tests I have when I meet someone, aside from whether or not they LOVE Raising Arizona as much as I do (and if you can quote any of it, I’ll add you to my will), is whether or not they are capable of finding humor in their own crazy ticks, missteps or third nipples. There is nothing that is more of a bore than someone who takes themselves too seriously and can’t stand to be mocked or made fun of.

Along the same lines, I also believe that there is humor and absurdity in pretty much any situation.

And, since this is a blog and I’m supposed to keep it short…..

  • I hate getting into an unmade bed.
  • I can’t stand it when people say “irregardless”. It’s not a freakin’ word.
  • I am one of the only women I know who loves Mystery Science Theater 3000 and consider “Manos, Hands of Fate” to be a modern classic.
  • My hall passes: John Cusack, Paul Rudd and Gregory Peck circa 1953 (I have time travel capabilities in this scenario).
  • My lesbian hall passes: Tina Fey, Zooey Deschanel and Leslie Mann.

There you have it, dear imaginary readers.

Until next time,

Irene