She, of course, had been asking whether or not I wanted the smoked whitefish, and I took advantage—cruel of me, I know. It's just that the whole deli was already a frenzy of celeb-food-chain gossip, which put me right into a bitchy, predatory mood.
See, right after I came in, all the servers were abuzz about Larry King getting into a to-do with his latest blondie wife (they're at Nate 'n Al often, for breakfast). It was the salmon-on-the-side scuttlebutt, I'm tellin' ya. But then that little-fish story quickly got washed away when whisperings of the demise of the big, peroxided tuna-kahuna herself, Anna Nicole Smith, began to stir.Larry who?
Suddenly, The O'Reilly Factor was on my cell and (not fond) memories of being groped by Anna were on my brain. The last time I saw her was when I was interviewing the Texas-born sexpot for her reality gig, The Anna Nicole Show, on E! We had lunch at Le Dome. At one bosomy point, I asked A.N.S. if she got tired of men wanting to touch her enormous ta-tas.
"Yeah," she half-purred-slurred through whatever cocktail of chemicals and alcohol she was guzzling at the time. "Ah...dew."
"Don't you just want to grab some guy's crotch as revenge sometimes?" I asked, half serious, half what-the-hell.
"Yay—uh...," Anna cooed, eyes suddenly more alert than they'd been the entire luncheon. "Can I grab yours?"
I thought, I started it, I have to finish it (as it were). I consented.
And then Anna Nicole Smith spent a good five minutes or so groping, searching, grabbing, prodding and rubbing the outside of my jeans, fruitlessly searching for this fruit's privates, which, for the first time in their existence, post-puberty, had actually retreated as far inside as they possibly could.
(Ask any man for the physiological dynamics of what I'm talkin' about after a cold shower, should you not understand me.)
All said, Ms. Es was a sweet gal surrounded by some folks and hangers-on who did not want the best for her. (Let's stay veddy closely tuned to Anna's moolah, post-autopsy, eh?)
Of course, Anna's detractors would say the same about Smith's intentions for her second husband, right? So, perhaps karma's just a bitch, like it always is.
"'All You Need Is Love,' by the Beatles," she said, looking semi-glam in a black and gold Roberto Cavalli gown. "I think that's just a beautiful thing to live your life by."
Drew not only stars in said flick, she does her own singing with costar Hugh Grant as well. I asked if there were any plans for her to pursue a musical career and make an album, à la Jennifer Lopez and Lindsay Lohan, now that she'd had a taste of singing?
"I would love to," she laughed, "but no one would want to hear it! That's where the problem would come in."
Drew's such a smart girl, isn't she?
Hugh, who also does his own warbling, plays an over-the-hill pop star trying to resuscitate his career. Which, of course, reminded me of one Britney Spears. I asked Hugh if he thought the former pop princess would make a comeback.
"God, I don't know very much about Britney Spears," he pooh-poohed. (What's the matter with you, Hugh? Don't you read the rags like the rest of our celeb-starved population?) "So, I can't give you an answer on that."
Boooring! Where's that Sunset Boulevard cheekiness we all know and love?
But what was a solo Adam Brody doing at the premiere? He ducked in before the flick started sans date.
Is Adam into catchin' chick flicks all by his lonesome, or could he have a crush on newly single Drew and be hopin' to make a move?
I think you two would make a way cute couple!
As to whether he prefers acting or producing better, Tom quipped, "Oh, acting is like going to the beach. Producing is like having to go to work with your dad...you're gonna be sweeping up welding rocks all day long!" Oy vey!
"It was exciting for me," said James, in his hottie Scotty accent, whose daffy role in Starter for 10 is a far cry from the whimsical roles he has chosen in the past (like the talking fawn he played in The Chronicles of Narnia). "I've always wanted to do a romantic comedy."
And speaking of having multiple boink buddies, also on board was Big Love's fit and far from scrappy star Bill Paxton, along with costars Chloe Sevigny and Amanda Seyfried. And when I asked Bill whether he thought monogamy was possible in Hollywood, his hunky-dory reply said it all:"I don't think so," the downer declared. "I think movie stars live for a while, but polygamists and rock stars live forever!" Bloody hope so.