Oh my fucking god you would not believe how Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes – o – licious my day was. Never has a day been so Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes – o – riffic. It all started when I threatened to quit my job. Which I do very inefficiently and on a regular basis. I'll like walk up to a lampshade or a bellman and say, "You guys are really gonna get it when I'm gone!" "You don't understand how bad I want a four day work week!" And then I'll walk away. What I need to do is just walk away. Enough. ANYWAY, I told one of the managers that he doesn't understand how close he is to losing me, and he immediately went back to looking up diet information on his computer. Then I ran into him in a hotel hallway after work when I was in streetclothes, which I'm pretty sure is NOT acceptable. At least in my world. Disney workers CANNOT be seen smoking holding on to their Goofy heads. You get the idea. I have standards. Okay we get it. Let's get to the TomKat! So this co-worker/manager (anybody who is younger than me but has power over me gets the term "co-worker/manager") says "Why don't you go across the street and see what's going on?" Across the street I could see barricades set up and papparazzi hanging out. What the fuck. I was going to go to the library and work on some freewriting but FUCK THAT. We got some celebs coming our way. So I walk across the street to go in front of the fancy catering hall that I SWEAR one of these days I will set foot in. They have two various barricaded areas set up where people are penned in like pigs: one for the press, one for the public. I figure, what the fuck. What the fuck do I have to lose. So I crawl into one of the pens. Having no idea who is coming. I'm just standing there like an idiot. "I wike cewebwitieees! Me like pwetty peepow!" Eventually one black guy standing with us asks, "Who are we waiting for?" "Tom Cruise?," one other girl says. I laugh. We have no idea why we're here. I think it would be funny to start telling people Tom Cruise is coming when it's probably just like low level like British celebrities. Then I ask nobody in particular if maybe it is for real Tom Cruise. A girl turns around and sayss "Yeah it's a tribute to Tom Cruise." ALMOST as if on cue, another black car pulls up to drop off more rich doctors and their botoxed wives. This time the driver gets out and yells, "Who y'all waitin' fuh?" in a real dumb ..:NAMESPACE PREFIX = ST1 />Brooklyn accent. "Tom Cruise!" we yell. "It's a tribute to Tom Cruise!" yells the lady who knew it was a tribute. She's been really into the word "tribute" which I feel is a weird choice of words. I have heard of like a tribute to the Beatles or to the Firefighters killed in 9/11, but Tom Cruise? So then the car driver yells out, "A tribute for what?" Real incredulous. "I wasted my gas for that!" Then he gets back into his car and drives away. Which I think a lot of us agreed was great. One girl got offended and was like "You got paid didn't you." Clearly pro-Tom. Around this time a hub-bub breaks out over in the press pen. The men with big cameras standing on stools (yes step stools) standing behind the pen start yelling, "GETTIM OUTTA HEAH! Gettimmm outttTA HEAH!" I look in the press pen and I can see a somewhat retarded looking man with a press badge, a trench coat and a hunchback, with a wussy-looking camera around his neck and no step stool at all trying to get in next to the cool looking press with their hipster sneakers and big ass "I can see Britney's snatch" telescopic lenses. "GETTIM OUTTA HERE!" The hipster papparazi keep yelling. Security tells the pap to settle down. "Go easy!" Eventually the trench-coated man gets comfortable and pulls off his cap, revealing a deeply pathetic 1970s-style combover. So there's an incident which I think we can all pretty much agree can pretty much take the cake as most bizarro disconcerting event of the night.
But wait. We're just getting started.
Now from outside Cipriani you can see that inside Cipriani, there is a huge screen flashing still shots from The Color of Money, Top Gun, Risky Business. Another slide simply states, in fancy lettering, "The Museum of the Moving Image Salutes Tom Cruise."
So now it's like really happening.
Then a black car pulls up and the press starts going wild. Flashes start, the yelling starts. I crane my neck and it's like Brian Dennehy. Or Patton Oswalt. Some fat guy with baby face a skinny lady in an evening dress on his arm. We're all confused. "Who is that?" different people ask. "Is it Brian Dennehy?!" I ask, hoping to be the one who's got the answer. "No," sniffs the woman next to me. "It's not him." Well excuuse me. At least I'm trying here lady. I don't hear you making any guesses.
A couple more black cars pull up dropping off men in tuxes and ladies in cream or black. Some cool old gray-haired guys even come in cabs. Some more black cars. Then finally comes a big fat shiny black SUV. "Here comes the big fish!" I say. Which may very well be the dorkiest thing ever said in a public pig pen device, but whatever. Then the press really start to go ape shit with the flashing of the lights which I don't even get because aren't they just taking a picture of a black truck? Then out of nowhere all these black people come. Or maybe it was just one black family, but either way now there are black people hanging around here holding Tom Cruise pictures and Sharpies and now there are like ITALIAN people from out of nowhere and now at this point no one is paying any attention to the pen idea. Hordes of people who have materialized out of nowhere and who certainly weren't waiting here with us for the past half hour are now gathering outside of the pen area. The rear door of the SUV is opening and at this precise moment there is like a surging of the ground beneath us and suddenly we are all three feet taller than we were before. If you were standing near a barricade you are now standing on top of a barricade. If you were standing on your heels you are now standing on your tippy toes and you are stretching your body more than you ever have in your life. If you are a small child you are now on your daddy's shoulders. Suddenly out of nowhere there are all these people yelling Tom Tom Tom! And holding Tom Cruise pictures. I am getting pushed from behind by a tiny Greek woman who is yelling at me "Do you see anything? Do you see anything?" I am craning my neck doing the best to see what is coming out rear passenger door, and that is when I see a tiny head with shiny dark hair and so that is when I realize that I am spotting with my own two eyes the tiny dwarf head of one Mr. Tom Cruise. Which will have an amazing effect on your mood, I will tell you that. It is like I am no longer thinking or feeling anything. I have no name. I have no bills. I certainly have no full-body venereal disease. I am floating in another dimension. It was like when I was doing nitrous in college but now I'm doing it with Italians and black kids and trench-coated men with wussy cameras and a whole sea of people. This feeling is only amplified when I see a second tiny head with shiny dark hair come out of the car. At this point I'm losing air pretty fast. I can't decide which tiny head to try to find. The countless heads in front of me are now surging higher and higher. I am in a sea of heads but there are only two that count. I decide it's live or die. I climb up on a barricade to get an unobstructed view of the unbelievable TomKat. What's great is that you can tell that Tom is not quickly advancing through the crowd. He is stopping and signing autographs. So you can really get a lot of time looking at him. He is smiling and waving and greeting his fans. Katie is standing there looking at the crowd and showing us the most unbelievable back you have ever seen. But no one has pictures or Sharpies for her. She isn't signing anything. She is standing five feet away from him smiling into the crowd. "Oh my god the poor girl! Nobodies asking her for any autographs!" I report down to my precincts on the ground. "Oh I know!" says one girl.
Okay so here it is: Katie's back is amazingly perfect looking. Muscular but not too muscular looking. I was surprised by how skinny she looked. All scapulae and spine as one friend once put it. Her dress was very low cut in back so it was very much about the back tonight.
Tom has annoying longish hair now and is definitely short.
I was creeped out the whole time. From the moment their tiny heads came out of the SUV.
What was so creepy? The yelling. The car. The flashes. The money. The tiny heads of real people. That Katie Holmes really is that pretty. That these are just two human beings. Ugh. The whole thing. So much to be creeped out about.
And so after all that, here's a press pic from perezhilton from tonight's event. Damn they work fast.
But wait. We're just getting started.
Now from outside Cipriani you can see that inside Cipriani, there is a huge screen flashing still shots from The Color of Money, Top Gun, Risky Business. Another slide simply states, in fancy lettering, "The Museum of the Moving Image Salutes Tom Cruise."
So now it's like really happening.
Then a black car pulls up and the press starts going wild. Flashes start, the yelling starts. I crane my neck and it's like Brian Dennehy. Or Patton Oswalt. Some fat guy with baby face a skinny lady in an evening dress on his arm. We're all confused. "Who is that?" different people ask. "Is it Brian Dennehy?!" I ask, hoping to be the one who's got the answer. "No," sniffs the woman next to me. "It's not him." Well excuuse me. At least I'm trying here lady. I don't hear you making any guesses.
A couple more black cars pull up dropping off men in tuxes and ladies in cream or black. Some cool old gray-haired guys even come in cabs. Some more black cars. Then finally comes a big fat shiny black SUV. "Here comes the big fish!" I say. Which may very well be the dorkiest thing ever said in a public pig pen device, but whatever. Then the press really start to go ape shit with the flashing of the lights which I don't even get because aren't they just taking a picture of a black truck? Then out of nowhere all these black people come. Or maybe it was just one black family, but either way now there are black people hanging around here holding Tom Cruise pictures and Sharpies and now there are like ITALIAN people from out of nowhere and now at this point no one is paying any attention to the pen idea. Hordes of people who have materialized out of nowhere and who certainly weren't waiting here with us for the past half hour are now gathering outside of the pen area. The rear door of the SUV is opening and at this precise moment there is like a surging of the ground beneath us and suddenly we are all three feet taller than we were before. If you were standing near a barricade you are now standing on top of a barricade. If you were standing on your heels you are now standing on your tippy toes and you are stretching your body more than you ever have in your life. If you are a small child you are now on your daddy's shoulders. Suddenly out of nowhere there are all these people yelling Tom Tom Tom! And holding Tom Cruise pictures. I am getting pushed from behind by a tiny Greek woman who is yelling at me "Do you see anything? Do you see anything?" I am craning my neck doing the best to see what is coming out rear passenger door, and that is when I see a tiny head with shiny dark hair and so that is when I realize that I am spotting with my own two eyes the tiny dwarf head of one Mr. Tom Cruise. Which will have an amazing effect on your mood, I will tell you that. It is like I am no longer thinking or feeling anything. I have no name. I have no bills. I certainly have no full-body venereal disease. I am floating in another dimension. It was like when I was doing nitrous in college but now I'm doing it with Italians and black kids and trench-coated men with wussy cameras and a whole sea of people. This feeling is only amplified when I see a second tiny head with shiny dark hair come out of the car. At this point I'm losing air pretty fast. I can't decide which tiny head to try to find. The countless heads in front of me are now surging higher and higher. I am in a sea of heads but there are only two that count. I decide it's live or die. I climb up on a barricade to get an unobstructed view of the unbelievable TomKat. What's great is that you can tell that Tom is not quickly advancing through the crowd. He is stopping and signing autographs. So you can really get a lot of time looking at him. He is smiling and waving and greeting his fans. Katie is standing there looking at the crowd and showing us the most unbelievable back you have ever seen. But no one has pictures or Sharpies for her. She isn't signing anything. She is standing five feet away from him smiling into the crowd. "Oh my god the poor girl! Nobodies asking her for any autographs!" I report down to my precincts on the ground. "Oh I know!" says one girl.
Okay so here it is: Katie's back is amazingly perfect looking. Muscular but not too muscular looking. I was surprised by how skinny she looked. All scapulae and spine as one friend once put it. Her dress was very low cut in back so it was very much about the back tonight.
Tom has annoying longish hair now and is definitely short.
I was creeped out the whole time. From the moment their tiny heads came out of the SUV.
What was so creepy? The yelling. The car. The flashes. The money. The tiny heads of real people. That Katie Holmes really is that pretty. That these are just two human beings. Ugh. The whole thing. So much to be creeped out about.
And so after all that, here's a press pic from perezhilton from tonight's event. Damn they work fast.
KB: Great meeting you at the New Years retreat in Plano, IL. You killed the crowd with your spectacular performance. Good luck with your upcoming show in Times Square later this month. Hope to meet up again.
ReplyDeleteBill
bhurles@yahoo.com