Fame...do you know who that is? Dark glasses, please!

Who is that man?

This past week I was forced to make a difficult decision regarding my shopping habits.

As much as possible, I have always endeavoured to be humble and down-to-earth - and for that reason - have mixed-and-mingled with locals and tourists alike at retail outlets when I shop for my personal needs.

Notwithstanding, I have also found the daily interaction with others is a rewarding creative experience which fuels up the muse.

In a nutshell?

Quite a few of my posts are based on encounters that come my way throughout the course of the day.

Unfortunately, it has become difficult to blend in with the common "Joe" in recent days since I appear to stick out like a sore thumb wherever I go!

For instance, shortly after I queue up at the cash register to pay for my purchases, customers all around me start to whisper.

Gosh, If I hear - "Do you know who that is?" - one more time - I'll scream!

Well, probably not.

Dave Letterman said it best one night on his talk show.

The popular host was out for dinner a short while ago, and for some inexplicable reason, was overlooked by the waiting staff on duty in the trendy restaurant.

After about an hour of waiting patiently with his date (wife?) a staff member waltzed up to the table and proceeded to quiz Mr. Letterman about his order.

"Would you care for some dessert now, Sir?"

"I haven't had my first course, yet," he responded politely (though boiling with rage underneath the surface no doubt).

In spite of the glaring oversight, Mr. Letterman noted to his studio audience, that he was forced to remain silent instead of complaining (for obvious reasons).

"If I said something it would be all over the tabloids."

Uh-huh!

The caption would read something like this:

"Dave Letterman throws hissy-fit in chic New York restaurant."

In my instant case, I have opted to shop elsewhere in out-of-the-way locales, in view of the growing problem.

Just maybe, I'll come up with a good disguise in the near future, though.

Someone famous (I forget who just now) was also bang on when he (or she) once quipped:

"People spend all their lives struggling to become famous. Then, slip on dark glasses when they achieve the goal, to hide who they are!"

Amen!

http://www.thetattler.biz




Justin Bieber...touts Canada's Health Care system! Greatest country in world!

 

When folks hear that I am from Canada, they shake their heads in disbelief.

"You have free Health care in your country. Why are you residing in the United States?"

True, the benefits in my native land are enviable, without doubt.

Even the "Bieb" - Pop Star Justin Bieber - brags about the country's medical system.

For example, in a recent Rolling Stone interview, Bieber was inclined to plug the Great White North.

"Here (in the U.S.) your whole life you're broke because of medical bills," he uttered up with a tinge of noticeable frustration.

Then, in the blink of a pretty eye, he touted his homeland.

"Canada is the best country in the world."

A naive perspective - but one which rings true - for the most part.

Until you make it in America - you'll remain a nobody essentially - unable to savor the spoils of International success.

Just remind Bieber, so he knows how fortunate he is - and, where his bread is buttered - eh?

Later!

http://www.thetattler.biz



Canada's great bounty!

Sofia Coppola..."Somewhere" within striking distance! Stephen Dorff stars...

Once again, Sofia  Coppola intrigues film buffs with her choice of film projects - and likewise - her tendency to be fascinated by the pitfalls of excess.

The shy daughter of a giant in the film industry (director Francis Ford Coppola) - who conjured up a broad masterful portait of historical Diva Marie Antoinette - recently set her sights on a captivating subject much closer to home.

In "Somewhere", Ms. Coppola focuses her insightful lens on a charismatic actor at the height of his powers of seduction, and in the process takes a behind-the-scenes foray into an old Hollywood cliche.

Will success spoil Rock Hunter?

Although the young director's insightful lens focuses on life in the fast lane and its temptations - obsessions with romantic trysts, luxury Hotels and high-end sports cars - "Somewhere" is also a tale about a man in crisis.

Stephen Dorff was cast to play the A-list actor - which was ironic - when you consider that in real life he never made that grade.

Ms.Coppola is best-known for her screenplay - "Lost in Translation" - which nabbed her an Academy Award a scant few years back.

Hotel scenes for the flick - which premiered in Italy this past week - were shot at the chic Chateau Marmont, a popular hang-out for actors in town.

"I like hotels for settings, they are an impermanent place. A lot of the characters I am interested in are in a moment of transition and it seems fitting that they would be in an impermanent setting," Sofia gushed to one reporter in recent days.

Dorff conjectured that "Somewhere" was all about becoming a man.

In the instance of his character, the transformation comes about when his young daughter turns up on his doorstep, after endless dark nights of the soul have taken their toll.

Coppola piped up at one point that to tell the story from a guy's point of view was a challenge because the emotional life of men was different than hers.

Was the mission accomplished?

You be the Judge.

The feature is slated for release in December.

http://www.thetattler.biz/

Fame...or dillusions of grandeur? Dark glasses keep folks at bay!

Normally, when I go about my business, I attempt to do so humbly and in a down-to-earth fashion as I maneuver my through the teaming masses all about me.

As I have noted previously, because of the high-profile nature of my posts at the Tattler - which run the gamut on a myriad of subjects both tame and controversial in nature - I am occasionally spotted in the crowd.

In fact, over the past few months the searing spotlight has become so intense, that I have found the phenomenon awkward to deal with now and then.

When folks spy me, then turn to friends and whisper.

Do you know who that is?

The experience tends to be a bit un-nerving.

Instead of moving on, folks tend to stand transfixed on the spot - as their jaw literally drops - and they take on the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

At this juncture, I generally give a little nod of encouragement - hold myself up as gracefully as possible - and meander on out-of-harm’s way.

Over the weekend, I encountered an unpleasant confrontation, when I struck up a conversation with a fellow traveler on public transportation.

“You look familiar. What do you do,” the hefty young black African woman quizzed.

“Oh, I’m a writer,” I found myself uttering up.

“Really?” she asked wide-eyed.

Uh-huh!

“Do you just like to think you are, or do you make your living doing that,” she probed further.

For moment, it was refreshing to encounter an individual who was unfamiliar with my blog, and the fame recognition that came with it.

So, I was inclined to continue the conversation expecting the interchange to be innocent enough.

But, the woman’s mood quickly changed as I revealed a few facts.

“I have advertisers on my web site and they generates revenue,” I noted.

“They pay for ads,” she continued a tad perplexed.

She was obviously clueless about bloggers like myself, so I made a bold-faced effort to help her along.

“Do you know who Perez Hilton is,” I innocently asked at this juncture.

“Oh yes,” she responded with enthusiasm.

“Well, I’m kind-of-like Perez, but our styles are quite different.”

When I innocently revealed that on occasion I felt like I was an alien from outer space when browsers from the Internet recognized me on the street, she reacted angrily.

“Boy. You're so grandiose,” she accused, as she began to scrutinize me up close.

"What do you mean," I probed further, since her comment didn’t appear to make any sense in view of the way in which I handle my fame.

“No one recognizes you,,” she hissed.

“You’re just imagining it.”

Of course, I nearly laughed out loud, since the notion - in view of my daily experiences out in the public domain - was so wild and preposterous.

“I know who I am,” I found myself responding.

But, the strange encounter reminded me - that no matter how successful or famous an individual becomes  - there will always be someone who is out-of-the-loop.

Just last year, if I am not mistaken, Bob Dylan was thought to be a "bum” by some silly fool who didn’t recognize the musician wandering about his property.

Daily, there are many ironies that underscore the reality of fame (and how fleeting it is).

When a celebrity slips and falls into a prickly cactus bush, there is a posse of paparazzi there, who is at-the-ready to spring into action and capture the star-turn on film.

The same individual may walk into a bank to cash a check, and find themselves  rudely badgered by a cashier, who has no idea who the celebrity is.

In sum, it's a humbling experience, wise to pay heed to.

Otherwise, the “celebrity” will find themselves in an unpleasant exchange in which they end up being criticized for bellowing an old familiar lament to some common Joe in a restaurant or on the street.

“Don’t you know who I am?"

Ouch!

The scenario goes down, alright, but - when it does - it’s usually an unpleasant experience that leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

The jarring conduct of the woman taught me a lesson.

In the public arena, it’s best to slip gracefully among the common masses, with as little contact as possible.

The old-fashioned idea of striking up friendships with strangers by invitation only in accordance with polite society makes more practical sense in a global community that is fast-becoming cold and unfeeling and rife with bad manners and rude conduct.

I am reminded of an old biblical saying:

“Never throw pearls before swine.”

Amen!

http://www.thetattler.biz

Fame...they come out of the woodwork!

 

My favorite piece of architecture in Hog Town!

 

They’re right!

Once you become famous people (scumbags?) come out of the woodwork.

For example, I was just in Pavillions this morning at the automated cashier, when I suddenly spied - what I would have to call a vague acquaintance through social circles in NYC over twenty years ago - lurking a few feet away.

With no groceries in hand, or shopping cart in sight, it suddenly dawned on  me that he was surreptiously observing me.

Indeed, when I noticed his presence, he started to warble one of those fake whistles as he strode across my path in a sly effort to "unexpectedly" run into me.

What a creep.

I hastily moved on.

Just recently, a middle-aged woman contacted me through my facebook e-mail, and noted that because we were relatives we should stay in touch.

I proceeded to ignore her, at which point, she zipped off an e-mail in which she lamented:
“I’m going to put you on my facebook page” in a tone that appeared to scream:

“So there!

Now, there was no doubt in my mind that I hould give this looney-tunes character a wide berth.
A couple of years ago, I managed to connect with a long-lost brother by mail that I was separated from at about age 7, though, which turned out to be a rewarding experience.

So, one summer on a trip to Toronto, we agreed to meet.

Of course, it was fifty years since we last saw each other in person.

Each morning, I would wake up and catch sight of  my brother Wayne trot into the bathroom to wash up - and carefully don a white or blue shirt, jacket, and tie - before heading out the front door.

I was left behind in my PJ's to munch down on cheerios and watch cartoons on the latest amazing invention: the television!

When I strolled up his front walk that fated day, I was immediately taken by the fact, that Wayne was blessed with my mother’s vivid blue eyes.

To this day, I can rustle up an image in my mind, of those remarkable peepers which mesmerized everyone in her presence.
.
At the time of our reunion, my brother was residing on Lamb St.  in the East End of Toronto, in a home he and his wife Mary (since deceased) once shared with her father (a Fire Chief).

It was a difficult time for Wayne because - although the quaint little cottage had been "willed" to his wife - after she passed (13 years of marriage) it was discovered that her father neglected to have the will signed anf witnessed by an attorney.

Fortunately, my brother's in-laws had a heart.

Although Mary's two brothers weren’t inclined to allow my brother to take full ownership, they agreed to split the house into three shares - one for Wayne -and one for each surviving sibling.

The brothers  initially allowed for a time of mourning, but, soon began to pressure my brother into selling the property.

I noticed right away that in its current state of disrepair that there would only be low-ball offers.

A bit of renovation - and landscaping - might improve its curbside appeal - and likewise - boost the potential sale price.

But, the “brothers” were anxious to get the property off their hands, and move on.

Needless to say, Wayne was under a lot of stress, and depressed at the thought of relocating.
There were so many fond memories of moments he and his wife shared together in their home that were difficult to shake.

To help ease the pressure, Wayne and I would jump in a used vehicle he had recently purchased, and take day-trips North of Toronto where we explored quaint little towns and rummaged  through yard sales and out-of-the-way  shops.

Ah, we had a common interest in antiques!

My brother was hooked on the horse races, by the way, as were  my mother (deceased) and older brother (deceased).

Wayne was a ballsy gambler, too.

When he was down to a couple of bucks, he’d pick a long shot, and end up a winner.

He must have had horseshoes up his a** or - just maybe - it was the luck of the Irish, eh?

I was also amazed at his good fortune when it came to a bet that required the gambler pick three horses - and their correct placement in each specific race - during the course of the afternoon.

Although I surmised that the odds (mathematics bearing down on the situation) were against him - but time and time again - he hit the jackpot.
Whenever I accompanied my older brother to the track (Woodbine) I usually partook in the exciting Sport of Kings.

Unlike Wayne - who based his bets on track record, blood lines, and the competition in the race - I usually bet on a horse based on the name (especially  if I got a psychic impression it was the way to go).

Wayne (and the staff at the ticket line) were amazed at my constant wins!

Unfortunately, I am a cautious with my bets.

Because I only plunked down $2 or $3 for a - win, place, or show ticket - my winnings never amounted to more than 30 bucks!

But, at least I didn't go home broke with hat in hand.

But the adrenalin rush when your horse dashes across the finish line is exhilarating.

On occasion when we went shopping at second-time-around (vintage?) clothing stores, I'd laugh when Wayne would make a beeline for the wildly-pattered silk short-sleeved Hawaiian shirts which he teamed up with a jaunty hat and stylish shorts.

I can't stand those shirts!

A few weeks ago he remembered my birthday.

So, I may have to venture into Goodwill or Out-of-the-Closet to locate a snazzy addition for his collection, since his birthday is on the horizon (easy to recall 7/11).

He remembered mine in May, which was a total shocker.

I guess I'll toss in a sexy Birthday Card (he adores women) and a racing form to boot!
 
It's kind of comforting to know you're not alone in the world, eh?

 

http://www.thetattler.biz

Celebrity...Sarah Palin & I have something in common! Autograph, please...

Fame!

 

Now, I'm beginning to fully understand what talk show hosts mean, when they probe their celebrity guests as to whether they can still go "out".

Of course, heartthrobs like Justin Bieber get mobbed on sight, heightening the possibility that the pint-sized performer might get crushed in a madcap rush.

Even famous people - of a lesser degree of visability - encounter awkward or unsettling moments when they stray alone into the real world.

Frankly, it wasn't until I roared into Vegas a few days ago, that it dawned on me that the curse of fame had descended upon me, too.

For some inexplicable reason, as quick as a wink, my mug has become instantly recognizable among the masses which startles and amazes me.

I'm not starring in my own night-time drama, after all.

Not yet, at least!

Say, what about a reality show featuring my blog?

Wonders never cease!

But, back to my tale of debauchery and fame.

When I am sitting in traffic these days - a thousand eyes from all vantage points turn in my direction - and I am forced to twiddle my thumbs and act nonchalantly for sanity's sake until the frigging light changes!

In fast-food take-out joints, a sort-of sleeping paralysis takes hold, when  the patrons learn of my identity one by one.

After a man and his wife spied me on the street yesterday, the lady looked back and hesitated.

"Should  I say something," she wondered aloud in a slight whisper.

Needless to say, I moved on.

I wasn't up to a close encounter of the third kind.

One of the funniest incidents occurred at McDonalds over the weekend.

As I noted in a previous post, the Wi-Fi was down at my Hotel, so I dashed out with computer in hand to avail myself of the free access at an outlet just across from the Sahara Hotel.

As this locaton, however, there was only one plug available for patrons.

So, I plunked down - plugged in - and tuned out.

As I was in the midst of polishing a paragraph, I had a burning sensation that someone's eyes were fixed tightly on me.

When I looked up, I was startled to find myself eyeball-to-eyeball with a motorist.

Uh-huh.

Turns out the drive-thru order station was just a few inches beyond my comfy perch on the other side of the picture window.

Without fail, every few minutes or so - when a hungry driver pulled up to order fries and a burger  - the scenario would start up all over again ad nauseam.

On each occasion, I slumped lower and lower in my chair, in a clandestine effort to hide my identity.

Later, I kicked myself.

I suppose I should have crafted a sign in an elegant script and offered up my autograph at $5.00 a pop.

Kidding!

One morning a twenty-something male actually followed me for about three blocks.

But, if he thought he was "tailing" me without my knowledge, he was dead-wrong.

I took a course in private investigations and was taught quite a few cool skills that come in handy to this day.

It is particularly disconcerting when I am lost in thought (reflecting on the right turn of a phrase for a post perhaps ) and it suddenly becomes painfully obvious - that I am being scrutinized from all-manner of folks from myriad walks of life within a twenty-or-thirty-foot perimeter (and then some).

OMG!

Did I appear to be talking to myself?

I have noticed these days that a few Latinos stare at me, probably because I gave the nod to the Nevada Governor, to sign into law the controversial Immigration Reform Bill.

You betcha.

Sarah Palin and I finally have one thing in common.

We're both on the Latino "hit" list.

Sometimes the behavior of some folks astounds me.

For example, I was on a shuttle bus provided by a Hotel one fine day, when I stood up and started to exit the bus.

I suddenly noticed  a woman - in a seat just forward - waiting for me to pass by first.

"Go ahead, Miss," I instructed politely.

A curious scenario also unfolds when I approach an open door around the same time others are about to enter it, too.

The strangers suddenly acquiesce (slow down) to allow me to go first.

I scoff at the notion that I deserve preferential treatment for some inexplicable reason.

I'll let you in on a secret, though.

The whole experience is quite exhausting.


Because I am constantly in the public eye, I am forced to maintain an energy level on par with my image, which can be a pretty draining charade to keep up in spite of the fact I am a robust man physically, mentally, and spiritually.


At times, I feel like I am walking in a dream world, when the madding crowd gazes on.

There is a thin line between reality and illusion, after all.


I try to stay grounded and down-to-earth for survival's sake.


With the knowledge that God appears in the humblest of places, of course!

Bellweather trends!

http://www.thetattler.biz/

San Francisco...prying eyes! A get-a-way not that for blogger!

I didn't even have to rent a billboard!

With my heart set on a quiet get-a-way - I steered my SUV north on Hwy 101 - in the direction of the lofty climbs of the romantic city by the bay (San Francisco).

Unlike LA LA LAND - where a mushroom cloud of nasty smog hovers overhead daily - fresh prevailing winds off the ocean breeze in - and in the process - effect therapeutic healing properties.

Within hours, my sinuses dried up, and I was able to breathe contentedly once again!

In Frisco, getting around the picturesque downtown core is a snap, too.

On the first starry night in town - I parked the car, tossed the ignition keys on a dresser in my hotel suite, and proceeded to piece together an ambitious game-plan designed to track down the rich  historical remains of the unique city's golden past.

But, reality sunk in, when I ventured out for a steaming hot cup of Java & morning snack at the crack of dawn the following day.

Within minutes of biting into my scrumptous bagel slathered with high-protein gobs of peanut butter, I suddenly felt like that there were a thousand eyes on me!

As I turned and gazed up from my cozy perch at the side counter running the length of a sparkling-clean picture window that framed the bustling world floating by, I spied a handful of tourists, businessmen, and locals staring at me transfixed!

OMG!

Surprisingly, my mug appeared to be just as recognizable to strangers on the streets of San Francisco, as it is in my own neck-of-the-wood.

In fact, over the next few days, I was literally astounded by the reactions I encountered everywhere where I turned!

If I walked down a bustling street in the business district, for instance, passers-by zeroed in on me like flies on sh**.

Within seconds, they were nudging their pals in the ribs, or straining to alert their companions (with mouths awkwardly twisted half-closed in a surreptitious effort to conceal their whispers) that I was in their midst.

They reminded me of ventriloguists!

Some came to halt on the sidewalk, acted like they were checking their pocket for something, then proceeded to gaze after me as I headed down the street (as I pretended that I wasn't aware of the riot of emotions unfolding all around me).

In retail stores - faces froze, clerks chatted in hushed tones, and shoppers magically became glued to the polished parquette floors beneath their feet now burdensome dead-weights.

In clothing stores, stylists paid keen attention to the outfits on display that I scrutizined, and appeared to take mental notes.

In diners and variety stores, customers in line ahead of me, tended to step aside to allow me to go first.

Of course, I pooh-poohed the notion that I should get special treatment, and instructed those thoughtful few to "go ahead" as I ushered up a little bow of thanks (a gesture of respect Buddha-style).

On the one occasion that I drove to one location, I suddenly realized - too late - that I couldn't turn right on a red light on the downtown street.

To prevent myself from jutting out in front of traffic and pedestrians with the right-of-way, I put the gear in reverse, and backed up a few feet out of harm's way.

Wouldn't 'ya know it, passers-by spotted me in the driver's seat right away, and proceded to poke their friends and business associates as they gave me the old hairy eyeball.

I expect that in spite of the fact I have a perfect driving record (amazing considering how many years I have been behind the wheel of about eight different vehicles I have owned at one time or another) folks will be tittering (twittering, too) that I'm a dizzy driver.

Honest, I'm not.

But, don't worry, when the big bucks start rolling in, I'll hire a swanky limo to chauffeur me around!

Frankly, these days I am a bit overwhelmed by the instant fame, if you can call it that.

It's as if a major network has been broadcasting my photo over the airwaves - 24/7 - that's how recognizable I have become (the thought of which even stuns me).

If you want to become famous on sight, there are two ways to accomplish it.

Get on the nightly news or pen a high-profile controversial blog!

Why the nightly news?

Because I have experienced that phenomenon first hand.

Years ago, I was strolling down Santa Monica Boulevard, when I was witness to a drive-by shooting (a rare occurence in WeHo, believe me).

Shortly after the incident, I was chatting with a friend about what I witnessed, when a reporter from a local TV station approached me.

"You saw what happened?"

When I responded in the affirmative, he asked if I would agree to talk on camera about the incident.

"Sure, what the heck!"

Within minutes, the interview wrapped up, and I headed home to tuck in for the evening.

The next morning, when I pulled up to a pump at a gas station to fill up my tank, two Sheriff's driving by in a squad card gave me a thumbs up!

At first, I was startled by the gesture.

What the?

I looked over my shoulder to determine if they were waving to someone else behind me.

At this juncture, they laughed.

"We saw you on the news last night. Good job!"

Throughout the morning, everywhere I went, people would smile and blurt out:

"Heh, you're the guy from the news!"

Gosh, overnight, I had become a celebrity.

Why?

Because I was on the news, natch!

Apparently, CNN picked up the story, and it was being broadcast on the Network every thirty minutes or so throughout the evening.

Oy veh!

My current fame?

Well, it's decidedly more intense - so much so -  that I'm afraid to pick my nose in public or walk out the door unshaved or without running a brush through my curly locks first.

Ubiquitous dark glasses don't help.

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!

http://www.thetattler.biz

http://www.facebook.com/julianayrs

Fame...quote!

 

When you're relatively unknown

People don't give you the time of day

When you become famous, however

They're all over you like flies on sh**

Julian Ayrs

The Daily Planet

Collection of Poems

http://www.thetattler.biz/

Fame...my 19th nervous breakdown! Dark glasses won't do...

Jaded Beverly Hills elite phased by celebrity!

Oh, it is getting a little intense being so recognizable.

On Saturday, I was on my way up Canon Drive to try out a gym, when the oddest thing happened.

It was like a scene out of a movie, actually.

As I approached a handful of outdoor cafes I felt like I was walking a gauntlet.

All eyes of the guests supping at a smattering of outdoor cafes on the tony strip appeared to be on me - and if they weren't - a companion or two would change all that in about two-seconds flat when they whispered under their breath:

"Do you know WHO that is?"

One well-coiffed socialite's jawed dropped just as a fork flew out of her bejewelled hand and clattered onto her lunch plate with such ear-piercing intensity that it silenced everyone within the perimeter for a second or two.

It was kind of like a domino effect!

As I passed a table - a multitude of prying eyes followed me on as I strolled by -  then  the whole phenomenon would start up again at the next table (then the next).

Frankly, in jaded Beverly Hills, I barely expected a glance!

Later, driving down Sunset, I happened to turn and look out the window and ended up eyeball-to-eyeball with a gaggle of tourists in an open tour bus in the next lane half-turned in their seats trying to get a gander up-close and personal.

But, I really felt like a soap star when I was on vacation in San Francisco recently.

Just as I stepped out of Walgreen's, I heard a little to yelp to my left and turned to check out the commotion.

At this juncture - a lady standing on the street with two friends - suddenly threw their hands to her face and gushed in a high-pitched voice.

"Oh my God, it IS him!"

Should I run?

 Were they going to tear my humble threads off of my trim bod?

Unfortunately, some encounters are not so light-hearted or zaney.

The folks who just freeze on the spot when they catch sight of me - and stare - frighten me a little
.
The fellow who stood about twenty feet away - and jotted down  information on my license plate as I was filling my gas tank up at Arco - was a little disconcerting to encounter, for instance.

A stalker - out to locate my address - perhaps?

Some people give me a sly smile as they walk by on the street.

Maybe, they're recalling a funny post that made them laugh?

Speaking of posts, as I sit here at Whole Foods on lunch break -  putting finishing touches on this one - a petite young blond in the next chair keeps get closer and closer.

When I turned the laptop a little to the right to prevent her snooping, she chirped:

"Don't worry. I can't read your screen."

If she gets any closer, she'll be perched in my lap!

Right about now, as my privacy shrinks, I am inclined to offer up some advice.

Take a picture, ask for an autograph, whatever.

Then, move on, please!

Don't stand there in the street looking like you've got a piece of poop in your pants.
 
Or, go slightly off-kilter, as your eyes suddenly glaze over.
 
At that point, I imagine you're just about ready to pull out an axe  and hack me to death.

On a talk show once, Paul Newman laughed about an bizarre encounter with a man in the men's room at a Hotel.

Apparently, Mr. Newman was standing at the urinal taking a whiz, when a fan next to him  asked for his autograph out-of-the-blue.

The charismatic star with the remarkable blue eyes joked that he toyed with the idea of half-turning and peeing on the guy's leg!
 
Clerks in grocery stores and at cafes are the worst!
 
Pretty soon, I am going to have to order online, or starve to death.
 
Too intense!
 
Who was it who once said:
 
"Actors (and public figures) spend a lifetime trying to become famous. When they've acommplished that remarkable feat, they toss on dark sunglasses so people won't know who they are."
 
The nature of the beast, I guess.

http://www.julianayrs.com

Lady Gaga...Fame Monster POP SHOP POP-UP STORE release party! Tiger Heat @ Avalon tonight (Dec. 3rd)...

Join TIGERHEAT for an exclusive L.A. Premiere!

The GAGA FAME MONSTER POP SHOP POP-UP STORE

Thursday December 3rd @ Tiger Heat @ Avalon!

Get all things GAGA.

Available tonight:

* Fame Monster releases
* T-Shirts
* Hoodies
* Accessories
* Heartbeats by Lady GaGa.

Nab a free limited edition lithograph with any purchase @

The GAGA POP SHOP!

Exclusive to TIGERHEAT @ the FAME MONSTER CD Release Party.

TONIGHT

* Live Performance from Prima J
* $2 Drink Specials

Tigerbeat @ Avalon
1735 Vine Street
Hollywood, CA

http://www.julianayrs.com

Bloggers...abandoning blogs according to New York Times! Misleading info...

I would be remiss if I did not respond to the New York Times article just recently in which a reporter asserted that bloggers were abandoning their sites in droves. (06/07/09)

For starters, some of the reporter's statements were terribly misleading.

According to the journalist, one source - Technorati (the largest blog site in the world) - alleged that blogs were sitting idle and not being updated on a regular basis.

Although that bold-faced statement warranted a follow-up interview with at least a blogger or two to confirm the facts - the reporter was inclined to accept Technorati's observations as true.

In this instant case, the lack of journalistic ethic on the part of the writer, has left egg on the face of the New York Times staff.

The truth of the matter is that Technorati has been experiencing quite a few ongoing glitches at their site which account for the reason a handful of bloggers may have been reluctant to follow through in recent days.

For example, when I first signed up with Technorati, my blog posts at google's Blogspot (The Tattler) and WordPress (Pop Culture) were pinged on a daily basic; consequently, my material was always current and up-to-date.

So, time-sensitive notices about local and National events - and spur of-the-moment news flashes - were published quickly enough for readers to act upon them.

However, in recent weeks Technorati has been experiencing a number of technical problems which they have not been very quick to fix in spite of their professional obligation to do so.

Specifically, it should be noted in my own instant case, that although I wrote daily posts for weeks-on-end - on more than one occasion - Technorati falsely reported that no new posts had been published for days!

On those occasions did Technorati staff incorrectly assume I abandoned my blogs, too?

No wonder their data is out-of-whack!

Notwithstanding the aforementioned, once the flaws in the Technorati software came to my attention, I began to ping the posts daily since the automated system was not reliable from the get-go.

In spite of that dedicated effort on my part to ensure readers would receive all updated posts in a timely fashion, Technorati still managed to prevent material posting in a timely manner (sometimes for durations of twelve or thirteen days).

To make matters worse, Technorati's site crashes often, which adds to the frustration.

When a blogger attempts to log in, a bizarre message - The Monster got loose - may flash across the screen and instruct the individual to try back later (without any explanation).

Also, I can't count the number of times I have logged in to my account and received the startling message that my blog (The Tattler) didn't exist!

Duh!

As to the other issues raised by the New York Times?

The reporter asserted in the article that bloggers were abandoning their blogs because they were frustrated by the fact their arduous efforts were not panning out in spite of the fact they busted their butts - with the ultimate aim - of being "discovered".

For instance, the reporter surmised that because book deals (bloggers were eagerly anticipating) were not forthcoming - and fame did not come knocking on their door with a promise of untold overnight - that disenchanted bloggers were opting to jump ship.

If that was/is the case for many - who are now seeking recognition elsewhere because of their failed attempts on the Internet - the truth of the matter is that a multitude of artists over the years (in a myriad of fields of creative expression) have similarly offered up their talents in a non-paying capacity with the express hope they would be catapulted into the spotlight.

For example, comics have often signed up for open-mike night at celebrated nightclubs, with the express hope that a talent scout in the audience might recognize their talent - and ultimately - land 'em gainful employment.

Actors have also been known to perform on stage in equity-waiver theatres - to specifically showcase their talent - in order to land a starring role in a major production on Broadway or in a feature film.

All things considered, it appears that the New York Times really screwed up on this one!

Took a blustery blogger to set the record straight, eh?

http://www.julianayrs.com/

Fame...quote!

The other day when I cruised into the drive-thru bumper-to-bumper at the fast-food joint - Jack-in-the-box - the perky little server started to hand my order over to me, when her eyes suddenly went wide.

"Don't I know you?" she asked, with an incredulous tone in her voice, as her body slipped into a frozen mode behind the counter.

Yup, I'm familiar with that creeping paralysis wherever I go these days!

Within seconds, the hapless employee recognized me.

What good fortune to have crossed paths with a celebrity!

When I jokingly mentioned the incident to a friend, his response was priceless.

"If they recognize you at take-out at Jack-in-the-box you must be famous."

http://www.julianayrs.com

AFI Dallas...Britney Spears electrifies nightlife; celebrity brings out ugly side; Father of year is...

Britney breezes into dust bowl!

 

As the AFI shuttle bus turned the corner, we were suddenly swept up into a thong of trussed up teens heading off to the American Airlines Stadium to catch the Britney Spears concert.

In fact, Dallas fans felt so privileged to have the charismatic star in their midst, that all stops were pulled out in a bold-faced effort to sidle up and bask a little in the glow of her celebrated light.

A ticket - whether it be for a whopping $2000 in the front-row-seat - or tagged at a paltry $150 up in the boondocks - was definitely an entree into an exclusive social set many were pining for if only for one night.

Unfortunately, a few ugly personality traits reared their head, as the scenario unfolded before me.

Ah, fame and celebrity bring out the worst in people.

For example, one AFI photographer, had been quite congenial and buddy-buddy with his fellow paparazzi (even inclined to glad-hand all the AFI staff and guests when he made his round through the Festival lounges and red carpet events each day) up 'til last evening.

When he caught wind of a chi-chi party Ms. Spears may be attending, he surreptitiously slipped out a back door so he could crash it on the sly with the specific intention of getting a jump on exclusive publicity stills.

Tsk! Tsk!

In contrast, one local sportscaster landed the glorious honor of "Father of the year in" in my eyes, when he generously gave up his ticket to ensure his 14 year-old-daughter could party it up in the Fox Network suite (center row at the high-energy concert) with her best friend as when Britney strutted her stuff on the welcoming Dallas stage.

Moi?

Well, there wasn't any intense desire to follow the madding crowd.

After all, at a party hosted by CineVegas last year, I was able to mix-and-mingle with Ms. Spears when she quietly slipped in unnoticed by fans and the paparazzi.

The classy sophisticated party-goers in attendance barely batted-an-eye and left the - at times, harried pop chanteuse - alone.

Some people have impeccable manners, you know!

http://www.thetattler.biz

Perez Hilton...wants to get laid! Sweat off brow makes site sizzle!

Double-dose of eye-popping Hilton...


Well - since the madding masses who surf to Perez Hilton's highly-touted website probably don't peruse the local gay rags for juicy tidbits about the gossip maven - I thought I'd pass on a few of the breezy comments he offered up this week in a light-hearted probe.

Not surprisingly - the top dog on the Celebrity Internet Circuit noted he painstakingly babies his site daily - to which he attributes its remarkable success.

Well, happy to hear he doesn't loll around on his butt - wagging the dog - as they say.

"Not like the others," he sighed - as if to say - lazy b**tards.

In fact, Hilton swears he edits and updates his site into the wee hours of dawn, alongside his numero uno confidante, his sister.

Well, gossip turns on an ear.

I expect, from his sizzling Internet vantage point, flashy updates are a must!

Who wants to peruse old Perez gossip?

When it comes to aesthetics, I'm a bit of a fuss budget that way, too.

If I spy a scintillating pic or two that I've painstakingly chosen for the great unveil - running amok on the page or off-balance - I pounce on the offending snafu for a quick resolution to the problem.

Until I fitz a bit, the text may be inclined to boggle my visual sensibilities, too.

I'm constantly flipping back and forth from edit bay to the publishing queue, striving for dazzling perfection!

I guess Perez and I are both - um - anal that way.

While we're on the subject of anal.

When asked why he lost so much weight, Perez quipped - without batting a mascara-highlighted eyelid - that it was elementary, dear boy.

"I wanted to get laid."

Judging by the publicity still that ran with the interview - he's either on the verge of nabbing that elusive toss in-the-hay - or is at least "this-close" to a fat "cigar".

After all, there's something about muscle tone that turns a head, 'ya know?

On occasion when I've let myself go - it didn't take long to fathom from the glazed-over eyes of disenchanted toy boys - that a sagging bod doesn't make it out of the "hook-up" starter's gate from the get-go.

Tone up a tad - and flex a bit of muscle under a tight "T" - and you'll have 'em eating out of your - um - hand in two seconds flat.

In West Hollywood, anyway.

Yeah, dudes are pretty visual!

I expect Perez has to sign a pact, though.

Before he hits the sack, guess he'll have to square away with potential fortune-hunters.

And, understandably, any savvy studly bedfellow will want to negotiate privacy issues before they're inclined to play "tango" between the sheets to ensure Perez won't reveal intimate details of a tryst in the event a nasty break-up busts up all over the Internet terrain.

Meow!

By the way, the gossip-meister noted that Madonna was tops in his books.

Why?

She shot a tailor-made video for Perez to upload to his dizzyingly popular website where millions cruise his titillating bylines for scrumptious scoops on their fave celebrities daily.

In his close-out comments, Perez beamed that the sweat off his brow paid off.

The boy from the wrong side of the tracks is a mover & a shaker in far-reaching social circles - in spite of the fact some nags in the gay community allege - he sold out.

Tsk!

How ever so?

In recent days, Perez cast off his wild fashion excesses to go upscale, and attend a a classy formal affair at the White House by chauffered limousine.

Did he kiss a lilttle a**?

Nothing wrong with toeing the line in polite society, if you ask me.

Show some respect and you'll get it back in spades.

Or, in pork, at least!

Perez exclaimed in the let-it-all-hang-out interview, that he epitomized the "American Dream".

To those on the end of his poison keyboard, he's an American nighmare, though.

What's next?

Splashy endorsements with a lot of zeroes in the checks?

Underwear ads? Hair products?

A webbie TV sitcom?

Ah, that's it.

Welcome to the Perez Hilton streaming video extravaganza.

Back in a nano-second after a word from our sponsor.

Spyware!

Blogging...fame! Oddballs come out of woodwork...

A few months ago, I noted that blogging foisted me reluctantly into the spotlight.

I never expected the phenomenon; after all, my profile shot is quite miniscule compared to the rest of the content on my blog site.

Unlike many post-it folks - my blog is not a vanity site - where I am inclined to splash a rash of publicity stills of moi across poorly-designed pages screaming out the obvious.

Me! Me! Me!

In view of the fact quite a few bloggers use monikers on the Internet, and cruise anonymously about the World-Wide-Web, maybe my modus operandi jars web surfer sensibilities a tad.

Golly, it's him in the flesh. He's a real person!

Of course, from the offset, I was keen to the fact that there were thousands of blogs out there vying for public consumption.


For this reason, I always endeavoured to offer up informative posts on topical subjects, a bit of social commentary, political news, and - oh my God - a dollop of celebrity dirt!!!

On occasion I walk the line - get a little outrageous - and the sh** hits the fan.

Maybe that's why people stare.

Dude, he said what?

Uh-huh.

A psychic foretold I'd be famous one day for "telling it like it is".

Well, maybe, that prediction has come to pass.

Yeah, the truth is hard to swallow, for some.

Maybe that's why all the eyes are focused on me now.

The other night, for instance, I waltzed into a movie theatre to catch a flick.

When I strode into the lobby - all the theatre-goers went silent - and acted like there was an elephant in the room.

On occasion when I stroll through The Abbey, too, jaws drop.

One night, I overheard a woman with her back to me, wonder aloud:

"What is everyone staring - "

At that moment, she half-turned and spied me over her shoulder strolling by.


Her voice trailed off - at which point - a dazed expression swept across her face.

At CVS when I stop in for a pomegranate Tea late at night - it's the only really good thirst quencher I know of in a pinch - the staff fumble around and make fools of themselves.

When I stroll up to the counter to pay, they totally lose it!

I want to utter up a tired old expression.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

The paparazzi wised up to that scenario a long time ago.

If I pop into the Internet Cafe to check e-mail, curious onlookers glance at my screen, ad nauseam.

Are they seeking lay-out tips or trying to get a scoop on my next sizzling post?

Meanwhile, I pretend not to notice the bizarre behaviour.

Now, it makes sense to me why celebrities react so negatively to fans and strangers when they're are out on-the-town for a respite from it all.

If a handful become recluses, it's easy to fathom why.

At times, the way people act, 'ya feel like you're from another planet.

Britney Spears must go through he** when she ventures out.

The creepy part has started, too.

Gawkers - with stalker tendencies - tend to lurk around when I am quietly having a light snack out-of-doors.

And, a strange character with an eerie light in his eye, pays too much attention when I occasionally dash down to the library for a book or two.

I hate to be rude, but judging from his odd-ball demeanor, it appears to be a better bet to take a wide berth.

On occasion, pedestrians and shoppers stop dead in their tracks, when I alight from my car.

There he is, they seem to be saying to themselves.

How can I capitalize on this chance encounter?

Lately, I've entered a new phase of my fame, too.

I used to hear people whisper behind my back:

"Do you know who that is?"

Then, there was a new line of query after that, for about a month or two.

"Do you know how old he is?"

At that juncture, curious spectators tended to surreptitiously inch forward a bit, to scrutinize for tell-tale signs of a nip 'n tuck here and there.

Nope, I haven't had any work done.

Not yet!

I expect that phrase three of my ten minutes of fame is on the rocky horizon.

When I'm in line at Starbucks, or Gelson's, I expect I'll hear astonished musings in an entirely different vein.

"Is he still alive?"

Yup, over my dead body!!!

Belmont Cafe...trendy eatery with surprise guests! West Hollywood.

The Belmont Cafe - at 747 N. La Cienega - is one of those chic little boites just a hop-and-a-skip away from trendy Melrose Avenue.



Usually - there is a swirl of social activity out front - as glittering celebs and a handful of the tony elite purr up in their pricey top-of-the-line autos where a sharp brigade of smartly-attired Valets are ready to do their bidding.


Not to be outdone - a hair's breath away - a pack of hungry photographers jockey for position. If the professional snappers are lucky, they'll snag a candid shot of an A-list actor as he alights from his vehicle or returns later a bit tipsy.

Last evening as I strolled through the gauntlet on the bustling street in front of the upscale eatery, by chance, I happened to gaze up.

Ha! I spied a hilarious sign that would cause Jay Leno to chortle, for sure.

It read,

"We have crabs."

Golly!

Remind me not to sit on the toilet seat in their mensroom in the future, please!

Starbucks...scary customer interrupts morning tea!

If you're like me, you mingle among the regular folks as you do your errands throughout the day.

Generally, when I cross paths with other pedestrians, store clerks, cashiers - the like - I try to be courteous.

But, on occasion, you happen across some wacko and there is bound to be a misunderstanding or two.

Like this morning, for instance.

Shortly after I slipped into Starbucks for my morning cup of tea, a strange man called out my name so loud, the other patrons were inclined to turn his way.

As I attempted to stroll to a table to avoid the stranger, he proceeded to follow me!

And, when I sat down and tried to peruse my newspaper, he hovered above me and tried to engage in a conversation with little regard for my privacy.

At this juncture, I was forced to inform him I wasn't interested in his company.

Instead of turning away, he proceeded to engage in a number of strange head games; in fact, he started to act like we were old friends, or something.

Egads!

So, I found myself quoting a line oft used by the wise and glamorous old-time film star Greta Garbo,

"I just want to be left alone"

It did the trick.

Thank you, Greta! Now I understand.

Sometimes a direct approach is the best course of action to follow.

Lord Byron once said,
"What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little."