Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Hotel Rooms and Bad Movies
When I used to write for Insite, every now and then they would send me on these press junkets where the studio would set me and a bunch of other writers up in a swank hotel for a day or two so we could lob softball questions at pampered actors and directors about whatever new film they were promoting.
Since I was pretty low on the totem pole at Insite, they usually sent me to the junkets no one else wanted to do. The worst was Boys and Girls- a movie so bad I hear Claire Forlani had the part of her brain that remembered starring in it surgically removed. I didn’t mind taking the crappy junkets, mind you, because the way I saw it: suffering through a screening of an abysmal Freddie Prinze Jr. comedy was a small price to pay for a free trip to LA.
I hardly ever talk about the junkets or the people I’ve met on them because it’s impossible to work it into a conversation without sounding like a name-dropping douche nozzle. I hate when people do that. There’s this girl on my LJ friends page who mentioned some celebrity encounter she’d had recently and it just had this ugly, unappealing air of “Hey, look at me! I’m cool and I hang out with celebrities! Don’t you wish you could be me just for one day? I bet you do!”
I don’t want to come across like that, but I really would like to get all this stuff out of my system. That’s why I decided to devote my next few posts to my short-lived career as an entertainment journalist. After that it’s back to the usual meditations on crappy pop music and Lindsey Lohan’s cup size.
Since I was pretty low on the totem pole at Insite, they usually sent me to the junkets no one else wanted to do. The worst was Boys and Girls- a movie so bad I hear Claire Forlani had the part of her brain that remembered starring in it surgically removed. I didn’t mind taking the crappy junkets, mind you, because the way I saw it: suffering through a screening of an abysmal Freddie Prinze Jr. comedy was a small price to pay for a free trip to LA.
I hardly ever talk about the junkets or the people I’ve met on them because it’s impossible to work it into a conversation without sounding like a name-dropping douche nozzle. I hate when people do that. There’s this girl on my LJ friends page who mentioned some celebrity encounter she’d had recently and it just had this ugly, unappealing air of “Hey, look at me! I’m cool and I hang out with celebrities! Don’t you wish you could be me just for one day? I bet you do!”
I don’t want to come across like that, but I really would like to get all this stuff out of my system. That’s why I decided to devote my next few posts to my short-lived career as an entertainment journalist. After that it’s back to the usual meditations on crappy pop music and Lindsey Lohan’s cup size.
