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October 08, 2007

Damfuges

Rose Byrne's Press Junket of Tears continues apace:

Maybe she truly hates doing press, or those shoes really hurt, or she just found out that her neighborhood grocery store has decided to stop stocking Kettle Chips, all of which are legitimate reasons to pose with that tortured expression on her face. But to all problems in life there are solutions. For the first, she could remember that she is an actress and is unfortunately contractually obligated to do these things, even if she doesn't like them, and that until she is famous enough to be crotchety and refuse to attend events, she should probably plaster on a smile and dash through the press line to the open bar, where she can complain that she hates this shit to her costars, who will sympathize in a way that her publicist, for example, will not. For the second, she needs to remind herself that she can totally take her shoes off when she gets inside, and hold tight to the vision of her freed tootsies like grim death. And for the last, dude -- I feel you. That would be a tragedy. Salt and vinegar rules my world. That's when you call your people and scream, "I WENT TO THAT STUPID PREMIERE I WANT SOME CHIPS NOW SEND A PA OVER WITH A CRATE! NO! TWO CRATES! AS MANY CRATES AS HE CAN CARRY!"

That's what I would do. Rather than wrap myself in another sort of poorly-washed looking number that does a pale girl no favors at all (but, honestly: I assume the Drab Parade thing is a Stylistic Choice, but did she just move somewhere with really hard water or something? Is her significant other surreptitiously tossing a black sock in with all her whites in a passive-aggressive attempt to derail her career? What is going on here?).

Posted by Jessica at 01:38 PM | Permalink

 

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