January 14, 2008
On this day, when we would under other circumstances be, say, wailing over Keira Knightley's decision to wear a burlap sack and coconut earmuffs to the Golden Globes, or waxing lustily poetic over how dreamy Mad Men's John Hamm looked in his tux, accepting his award, it is a relief that Courtney and Brown Peldon have popped out of obscurity to both bring us great joy and to reassure us that they are alive, and appearing and directing (respectively) in some play called Publicityville, which has but nine friends on MySpace (one of which, at least, is Charlie Schlatter, whom I loved deeply when I was about eleven, thanks to his shortlived stint in the Ferris Bueller TV series):
And they look pretty cute, in that Generically Styled By Wet Seal's Annual Sale kind of way. You know, the longer I work the desk here at GFY HQ, the more fond I have become of Misses Peldon and Peldon. They just want to make their perfumes, and put on the occasional show in a barn, and if their past shenanigans include prancing around the woods in satin tunics, or short-lived engagements to George McFly, well, we are all only the richer for it. My goal for 2008 is to run into one of them -- at the post office, maybe, or waiting in line to try on $11 tunics at Forever 21 -- and feel the glorious thrill that comes with spying a celebrity a rare few civilians would even recognize. Kind of like the time I sat next to Brandon Davis at the movies. Sure, he was the worst smelling person I'd ever sniffed, but seeing him out in the wild was like the fugger's version of spotting a rare bird sitting in the camellia bush in your front yard - a delicious but easily obtained prize.