I think it’s really awesome that I’m not a famous actress. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to bring you this message in sweatpants right now.
Who wants a career? Boy, not me! Give me an iced tall skinny vanilla latte and Britney Spears’s “Blackout” and I’m set for a few hours. It’s especially great that I don’t have to spend time reading scripts or meeting with an agent. That gives me more time to catch up on Oprah.
Sometimes I just have to turn off my mobile phone because it rings constantly. Gosh it’s so cumbersome being so successful.
Just yesterday I was picking up my drugs at my local pharmacy when the paps were mobbing me for photos. I was like, “Gentlemen, please, I’m all bloaty and on my lady time right now, no photos.” And they were like, “Almie, just one, please.” I refused, and because I’m so awesome, they dropped to their knees and cried. It was just like when Montgomery Clift got into that motorcycle accident and Elizabeth Taylor ran to his rescue, and like a mother bear defender her cub, screamed at the photographers, “DON’T YOU DARE TAKE HIS PHOTO NOW” and they actually backed off and didn’t! That would never happen today. Not when we have live footage of Heath Ledger’s body being wheeled from his apartment to an ambulance.
But anyway, back to how famous I am. It’s really difficult when all I want to do is be a serious actress and my manager keeps trying to get me to do sequels to blockbuster films where I have to run around in a bikini. I’m like, “Morty, where is my Chinatown?” and he’s like, “Yeah I think they should let Polanski out too” and I’m like, “What?” and he’s like, “What?” and I’m like, “Never mind” and he’s like, “Ok. Now about Night At The Museum 3…”
I’m so sick of arguing with my publicist about how much face time I have to put in. I’m all like, “I only want to do Conan” and she’s like, “What about Ellen, you love Ellen” and I’m like, “Ugh, fine” and she’s like, “And let me pitch you to the Today Show” and I’m like, “Ugh mom stop it!”
I think it’s fantastic that I don’t have a story arch on Mad Men. I totally have the perfect look and voice for the show and I have no problem with not being on it, because it’s so much better to watch it than to actually be on it, I think any actor would agree to that, I mean that’s just a duh.
Oh actors, all they do is complain, right? Just yesterday I was talking to Sean Penn and he was like, “I’m going to–” and I was like, “SHUT THE FUCK UP I HATE YOU SO MUCH YOU STUPID POMPOUS ASSHOLE” and punched him in the mouth. It was a really weak punch but the entire restaurant still applauded.
I think it’s so awesome that my parents aren’t in the industry. I mean imagine if a career was just handed to me, how tacky, right? I love that I have to fight for every single thing. It’s just so awesome to struggle to land meetings while my friend goes from television show to television show because her Godfather is super famous. I’m like, “I feel sorry for you, it must have sucked being on that super popular network show that was handed to you” and she’s like, “Ugh tell me about it” and we laugh.
Really though, I’m not bitter. To imply that I was bitter would be to imply that I still have feelings at this point. I think it’s more like a Patrick Bateman situation, minus the homicidal hobbies aspect:
Today has not been bad: I worked out for two hours before the office; the new Robinson Hirsch restaurant called Finna opened in Chelsea; Evelyn left two messages on my answering machine and another with Jean, letting me know that she’ll be in Boston for most of the week; and best of all, The Patty Winters Show this morning was in two parts.
Just replace “The Patty Winters Show” with “The Oprah Winfrey Show” and “worked out” with “not worked out” and we’re set.
