Stars in Cafes

In response to a comment about the Dancing Ladies entry- yes that was Emily Mortimer at my local cafe! I checked around a bit and read that she did indeed move to my part of Brooklyn in 2006.

She looks so much like herself on screen that I kept second-guessing my keen sense of celebrity identification. That reminds me of a similar situation with Henry Fonda's character in the movie "Lady Eve." When Eve, a con artist that he met on a cruise liner, showed up at his house, he didn't believe it was her because she looked exactly the same:

If she came here with her hair dyed yellow and eyebrows different or something...But she didn't dye her hair and she didn't pretend she'd never seen me before which is the first thing that anybody'd do. She says I look familiar...If she didn't look so exactly like the other girl, I might be suspicious, but you don't understand psychology. If you wanted to pretend you were somebody else, you'd glue a muff on your chin and the dog wouldn't even bark at ya.
(I grabbed this quote from http://www.filmsite.org.)

If this teaches me anything, it is to trust my celebrity spotting instincts. Although I would much prefer some kind of useful instinct, like somehow knowing how to unlock a safe, deliver a baby, revive a cardiac patient, disarm an armed attacker, hear sharks from 3 miles away, smell E-Coli in picnic baskets, etc.

No Fake Smiles from Brown

My husband and I were away last weekend, aiming at a relaxing break to forget our worries when his home country hit the news. Apparently a sleeper cell decided to appoint themselves the Gordon Brown Welcome Wagon. This group of bungling terrorists decided to mark the beginning of his term with failed car bombs in London and a quick crash into the Glasgow Airport. After the authorities issued a few reports assuring us that their plans turned into a failure, we found the energy for some explicative-filled tirades against the would-be killers before calming down for some quiet reflection.

As I slowly sunburned in very odd places—like the middle of my forehead and my right big toe, I wondered if we were living in a Luis Bunuel film. Will this be known as the era that we filled our days with meaningless escapades and preoccupations so as to avoid the thought of random death? Good lord! Is this why I keep seeing idiot starlets on real news channels—because none of us can stand to hear the painful truth?

P.M. Brown seemed to deal with the situation quite well and you can see his response in this video on nytimes.com. He was everything you would expect in a British politician. He was quick to get to the point, left off the fake smiles, and didn't include meaningless touchy-feeling-happy-clappy phrases to make the public feel better. I already like him more than Tony Blair.