At club Villa again last night, at the invitation (which is pretty much the only way you get in to this club right now) of lovely friends Tina and Stephanie, who are plugged into the LA scene in a way I only vaguely understand but appreciate, since they make our clubbing ways — such as they are — a no-brainer. Tina got our group a table, only to discover at the door that it had been sold out from under us because we were “too late” to claim it. “Too late” seemed to translate as: Lindsay Lohan showed up out of nowhere and she wanted one of the downstairs tables and so why the hell would we waste it on you non-famous folk…?* I recognized Lohan by her hair and her leggings. Jonathon Rhys Myers was there, a sighting which actually delighted me (as opposed to just triggering off that how-do-they-compare-in-real-life curiosity) because MATCH POINT and THE TUDORS are high on my list of favorite pop-culture entertainments of recent years. For some reason I thought he’d be short. He’s not short. At one point he was hanging out with Lohan at one of the much-prized downstairs tables. I can imagine their conversation: “Wait, you mean you’re famous? I’m famous too!… You mean you have addiction issues? I have those issues too!…You mean you like sex…? We have so much in common it’s uncanny!”
Natalie Portman was hanging out with Leo’s posse. She’s blonde now. Leo himself seems to have two modes, at least that I’ve witnessed in clubs: either he’s jumping up and down to the music or lounging around looking silent and serious. I went upstairs and then came back down to find E talking to Leo (Octavius introduced us our last time at Villa) and showing him cell phone photos of the Tesla Roadster, E’s beloved sexy-electric-car company. “You know you want one,” I told Leo. “I do want one,” he said earnestly. “I know you do,” said I, because Leo’s people had talked to the Tesla people way back when about a deal for a car that never materialized (the deal, I mean; the car itself is materializing as we speak). “And you should have one,” I added generously (as if I have anything to do with it). Albeit at the same price as everybody else.
I had a great night that actually had nothing to do with celebrity-spotting (although it does make for fun & easy blogging) and everything to do with great spouse, great friends, my book handed in, yadda yadda. Plus E and I just hit our eighth anniversary, which in Hollywood years is roughly equivalent to five centuries of marriage. And they said it wouldn’t last. (Actually, no one said that, at least to our faces, but I felt the need for dramatic effect). Outside the club, one of Tina’s paparazzi friends offered to take a group photo of us — and then abandoned the task, practically dropping the camera, when Someone Famous emerged from the club and he had to haul ass to get the shot. Earlier today, during my bout of morning procrastination, I saw a picture of a bleary-eyed Myers on perezhilton. I like to think maybe that was the shot.
Later, we were parked curbside by an apartment building talking with Tina and Stephanie; about six of us, all in high spirits, laughing and joking, when Jason suddenly observed that someone had just thrown an egg at us. Which jolted home just how loud and obnoxious we were being so early in the morning; we shushed each other and I scanned the high-up windows with the urge to wave apologetically at the egg-thrower. After all, I’m Canadian. We don’t like to offend, especially when we do offend. But the egg-thrower did not show himself. We talked on in low voices, taking care to be quiet…which means that the next little round of catapulting yolks really wasn’t necessary — “There is egg all over Jason’s car,” Stephanie informed me — and I stopped feeling apologetic. And Jason drove off into the night in his yellow Cadillac smeared with broken shells.
So to recap: in the space of maybe an hour and a half I went from chatting, albeit very briefly, with one of the biggest movie stars in the world to standing on a deserted stretch of sidewalk having eggs thrown at me.
There is a moral in that.
*Later, Tina’s friends were denied at the door — despite their legitimate claims to being part of Tina’s ‘table’ — because Lindsey and Paris had each brought along such a huge entourage that the club, which is quite small, could not legally allow anyone else into the place for a while. Hey, it’s their world. We just visit it. And buy overpriced bottles of alcohol.