(This fucking economy, man. Hollywood is HUNGRY.)
So last night I had the distinct privilege of being Linda's plus-one for the big! red blue carpet! premiere! of Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. (The PR team in charge of the outing: "You have a blog too? That's adorable!")
This is how we do big fancy movie premieres in DC, you guys:
Port-o-potties as far as the eye could see. As we pulled up in our glamorous stretch limo short bus in front of the Air & Space Museum and a huge crowd of people who had apparently not figured out that the celebrities were already inside, I could barely contain my excitement and sudden terror about tripping on the bus steps and falling flat on my face.
I did not fall down, which meant it was now time for the descent into increasingly embarrassing fameball douche behavior.
"Smile, people in crowd who don't have tickets to get in! We're posting these on our MOMMYBLOGS!"
(I cannot lie, though. Linda. Sundry! Seriously just as funny and wicked and potty-mouthed as you imagine, or at least desperately hope. Port-o-potty-mouthed. Between her sailorspeak and my tendency to worry out loud over whether my breasts were leaking, I think we made an AWESOME impression on the Hershey's PR people. By the end of the night we were speaking exclusively in some kind of weird mind-meld twin-speak where we finished each other's increasingly obscure sentences. The fact that she's getting on a plane to fly back across the country right now pretty much symbolizes everything that is wrong and unfair with the world.)
Night at the Museu: Battle of the Smithso!
My shoes. I would have gotten a pedicure, but I figured that's what the celebrities were expecting me to do. And that's precisely when they eat you.
RED BLUE CARPET PRESS LINE JACKASS TIME OMG
Our first movie-star sighting! And it's the Butterscotch Stallion himself! He is short, for a stallion. Could strap on the old feed bag for sure. Toula! Eat something!
(Check out Access Hollywood's coverage and you'll see Linda trying to nonchalantly snap Owen's picture behind him. And to think, my elbow almost had its big break!)
(I am the blindingly reflective white person suppressing a cough in the way, way background at the 1:18 mark in USA Today's coverage, however.)
My camera thinks Owen Wilson should appear in one of those "Talk To Chuck" ads for Charles Schwab.
The back of Robin Williams' (very short) head. The lady in the sequins appears to be conducting an in-depth interview with his shiny jacket.
Ben Stiller. He's blurry because my camera doesn't have enough megapixels to properly focus on someone so tiny.
Ricky Gervais, who despite being considered on the portly side, basically looks like a completely normal and healthy-weighted person in real life. I'm goddamn chubbier than he is. Jason could fit half these people in his pocket. Noah could snap Ben Stiller like a twig.
And yes, if you're sensing that I've developed a bit of a complex about this, you are correct. Now sit down and eat some ham.
I think this was the RENO 911! guys (who wrote the movie), but. You know. MY THUMBS ARE TOO FAT.
Hank Azaria. Looks like a giant in IMAX, is not really. Fact! Was really, really funny, both onscreen and off.
Amy Adams. A reporter friend of mine said she was rude. I nearly tripped right in front of her on my way to my seat; got a vague sense she was horrified at how close the Dirty Normals were premitted to get to her. She's tiny and Disney princess-like and WHATEVER.
I've never in my life been to a movie premiere before -- I didn't know they'd have THREE people introducing the movie (well, one person introducing another person who introduced the person would actually introduce the movie) ("Movie? This is Crowd. The Crowd would like you to begin so they might rip into their gigantic boxes of Hershey's candy without it echoing throughout the theater. Crowd, this is Movie. Movie enjoys long walks on the beach and also thinks you are fat."). And I didn't know that people would applaud like, EVERY name in the opening credits, which did get awkward because some people got a lot of applause and then like, other people only got applause because they brought their mom.
Also everybody went nuts at the first shot of the Air & Space Museum, like OMFG THAT'S WHERE WE ARE RIGHT NOW! HOLY SHIT! EVERYBODY WAVE AND MAYBE THEY'LL PUT US ON THE JUMBOTRON!
Then there was the afterparty. Drinks, canapes (INCLUDING SANDWICHES!) and possibly more celebrities to harrass, but I was pretty over it. It had been hours since I'd blabbed endless on about my children with anybody, so save for one terrifying moment when Linda and I were approached by a couple of clearly very confused teenagers with cameras, that's exactly what we did for the rest of the night.
It's actually really hard to know which camera to look at on the red blue carpet. This is why movies stars are better than us: superior camera-looking talent.
Tonight I'll be back at another IMAX theater, but one more closer to my natural dork habitat: we're seeing STAR TREK again. How many times do you think Amy Adams has seen Star Trek? None, I'll bet. None times.