Posts tagged celebrity

4 Notes

The thing about Harrison [Ford] was Harrison could fuck. Nine people a day. It’s a talent, loving nine different people in one day. Warren [Beatty] could only do six.
Eve Babitz in the March 2014 issue of Vanity Fair (amazing piece by Lili Anolik, “All About Eve — and Then Some”)

325 Notes

bbook:

I hate, hate, hate people who come up to you and ask if you remember them, revealing that they slept with you a long time ago. Why would you put yourself in a place of potential humiliation? If the celeb doesn’t remember you it will only make you angry and upset, and make you feel like you weren’t that good of a shag in the first place. Also, didn’t you ever consider the fact that you would never have remembered the celeb either had you not seen his face again and again on TV and in magazines? Wouldn’t it be nicer to gently remind your former shag of where and when you met, subtly and with decorum, and allow you both to have a nice little flashback to why you wanted to get into each other’s pants in the first place?
On His Birthday, The Ten Things Alan Cumming Hates About Celebrity

Imagine Twitter is the devil in his Scottish accent. 

bbook:

I hate, hate, hate people who come up to you and ask if you remember them, revealing that they slept with you a long time ago. Why would you put yourself in a place of potential humiliation? If the celeb doesn’t remember you it will only make you angry and upset, and make you feel like you weren’t that good of a shag in the first place. Also, didn’t you ever consider the fact that you would never have remembered the celeb either had you not seen his face again and again on TV and in magazines? Wouldn’t it be nicer to gently remind your former shag of where and when you met, subtly and with decorum, and allow you both to have a nice little flashback to why you wanted to get into each other’s pants in the first place?

On His Birthday, The Ten Things Alan Cumming Hates About Celebrity

Imagine Twitter is the devil in his Scottish accent. 

5 Notes

Like all these things, there’s a kernel of truth. You just amp up the volume. People think I might be like that, but I don’t really care. The only thing that ultimately matters to me is that I can do my job and that the people in my life know what I’m like and who I am. I would rather that people get me wrong and misunderstand me than know who I am. I’m happy to have people be misinformed so that I have my privacy, even if that means that some people think I’m an asshole.
Steve Coogan on playing himself in The Trip, from an interview with Vanity Fair.

6 Notes

The 12 Best/Worst Celebrity Memoirs

togatherinc:

You see what he did there? The hallmark of any great memoir title is wordplay!

Sometimes a hyphen can really make all the difference.

You see, because not only is Lance out of the band, but also….

Well, I’m certainly not creeped out by all the children on this book’s cover. THAT’S FOR SURE!

You heard the lady. Also, please have a look at the tile of her other book mentioned on the cover.

What exactly are you talking about, Todd Bridges? Read this book to find out!

We get it, Regis. You’re in demand! Or you were around the time “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” came out.

I know we’re not done with the list yet. But, this is the best title.

Literally everyone gets to write a memoir.

Like, literally everyone.

Even people who are made up.

Of all the books featured in this blog post, this is the one I am most likely to read. Having said that, there is no way I am going to read any of the books featured in this blog post.

KILLING WILLIS??

Also the Colonel Sanders one is perfect.

74 Notes

vanityfair:

Like father, like daughter.

Oh all right this is cute I guess.

vanityfair:

Like father, like daughter.

Oh all right this is cute I guess.

85 Notes

None needed.
boobsradley:

If any of you DARES give me context for this I will punch you.

None needed.

boobsradley:

If any of you DARES give me context for this I will punch you.

93 Notes

caissiesthing:

robdelaney:

https://twitter.com/#!/caissie

Sometimes it feels like you’re just crying into a void about something you’re not even sure you have the right to be sad about. But then you realize someone was listening and you feel a little better. Thanks for being my someone sometimes, Rob Delaney.

caissiesthing:

robdelaney:

https://twitter.com/#!/caissie

Sometimes it feels like you’re just crying into a void about something you’re not even sure you have the right to be sad about. But then you realize someone was listening and you feel a little better. Thanks for being my someone sometimes, Rob Delaney.

108 Notes


Hurrah for my pal Mike. Great job, Tyler.


I’m incredibly interested to read Mike’s book, not just because I love a good tell-all and I’m truly — sometimes debilitatingly— nosy, but because I genuinely want to know the details (plus I’m a sucker for any tale of New York in the ’80s, ’90s…or any decade, really).

It’s a little weird, because a part of me feels like I’ll be reading his diary; but I know it’s intended for the public, so it can’t be that secret, right? Now that I know Mike as a person, and I’m not merely a distanced fan, it’s a little difficult to process the painful, sad stuff — I feel protective, a little angry, that these things happened. If I were just an avid listener but didn’t actually know the guy I’d probably eat it up, wide-eyed, like all manner of juicy celebrity gossip. But this is different.

Of course, I couldn’t be more pleased about the way everything has turned out for him.
(Also, I’m pretty sure I was at that party.)

bbook:


I met Mike Doughty through a friend over the summer; he actually walked  into a party while one of his songs was playing over the speakers. It  was a surreal New York moment, and I recognized him immediately as being  the lead singer of the now-defunct Soul Coughing, a band that I had  listened to in college (even though they broke up a year before my  freshman year). Our mutual friend had told me that Mike wasn’t a Soul  Coughing fan. “You should read his book when it comes out,” she told me,  “and you’ll understand why.” 

After seeing him at another party toward the end of last year, I asked Mike for a copy of The Book of Drugs.  He obliged, and I tore through it in a matter of days. It’s a  refreshingly genuine rock ‘n’ roll memoir, with the typical rise and  fall of a rock star you might find as the plot of a musical biopic  (complete with the requisite cameos from other musicians — in this case  Jeff Buckley, Ani DiFranco, and, surprisingly, Redman). But it’s also a  poetic look at the music industry in the late ’90s, a seemingly  mythical time before the rise of .mp3s and iPods. It’s also impossible  not to cheer for Doughty, who was outnumbered by a group of older,  antagonistic musicians who all but took over the band that he created. I  was very excited to sit down with him at Birch Coffee and chat about his memoir, life after Soul Coughing, and the stigma of being a singer-songwriter.

Mike Doughty on ‘The Book of Drugs’

Hurrah for my pal Mike. Great job, Tyler.

I’m incredibly interested to read Mike’s book, not just because I love a good tell-all and I’m truly — sometimes debilitatingly— nosy, but because I genuinely want to know the details (plus I’m a sucker for any tale of New York in the ’80s, ’90s…or any decade, really).

It’s a little weird, because a part of me feels like I’ll be reading his diary; but I know it’s intended for the public, so it can’t be that secret, right? Now that I know Mike as a person, and I’m not merely a distanced fan, it’s a little difficult to process the painful, sad stuff — I feel protective, a little angry, that these things happened. If I were just an avid listener but didn’t actually know the guy I’d probably eat it up, wide-eyed, like all manner of juicy celebrity gossip. But this is different.

Of course, I couldn’t be more pleased about the way everything has turned out for him.

(Also, I’m pretty sure I was at that party.)

bbook:

I met Mike Doughty through a friend over the summer; he actually walked into a party while one of his songs was playing over the speakers. It was a surreal New York moment, and I recognized him immediately as being the lead singer of the now-defunct Soul Coughing, a band that I had listened to in college (even though they broke up a year before my freshman year). Our mutual friend had told me that Mike wasn’t a Soul Coughing fan. “You should read his book when it comes out,” she told me, “and you’ll understand why.”

After seeing him at another party toward the end of last year, I asked Mike for a copy of The Book of Drugs. He obliged, and I tore through it in a matter of days. It’s a refreshingly genuine rock ‘n’ roll memoir, with the typical rise and fall of a rock star you might find as the plot of a musical biopic (complete with the requisite cameos from other musicians — in this case Jeff Buckley, Ani DiFranco, and, surprisingly, Redman). But it’s also a poetic look at the music industry in the late ’90s, a seemingly mythical time before the rise of .mp3s and iPods. It’s also impossible not to cheer for Doughty, who was outnumbered by a group of older, antagonistic musicians who all but took over the band that he created. I was very excited to sit down with him at Birch Coffee and chat about his memoir, life after Soul Coughing, and the stigma of being a singer-songwriter.