Archive for the ‘Celebrity Gossip’ Category

Anti-Awk

Yes, yes, doubleawk is supposed to be a repository for snark, embarrassment, and other sassy fare, but today I have something far more important to share.  A few weeks ago, my dear friend Morgan Faust (loyal readers and friends will know her as the Mo half of MoPa) went to Sundance with a film she’d edited, 3 Backyards, which ultimately earned best director honors for Eric Mendelsohn in the US Dramatic competition.  And I was made even more gleeful by Morgan’s win than I was by her stories of celebs and swag.  (See, Doubleawk does have a heart).

Morgan and Me. Not pictured: Captain Morgan, but he was obviously there too. And I haven't hung out with him since. But I still love the real Morgan a whole lot.

Morgan herself is an incredible director, and today she’s launched a new website where you can learn more about her work.  Please visit http://www.faust-films.com, and tell your friends to do the same.

And no, I’m not trying to insinuate myself into her next project with bloggy-suck-upage.  I’ve already used our years of friendship to manipulate her into working on a writing project with me.  So there.

Although, I am still hoping she’ll cast me in something….  And maybe someday take me to an awards show….

A girl can dream, right?  Even an awkward one.

Trauma: From the Field

Well, dear readers.  It’s an exciting day here at doubleawk.  We have our first reader-submitted celebrity photograph.  And, in keeping with doubleawk’s kinder, gentler version of paparazzing, it’s devoid of obvious celebrities.  But it does show a television shoot happening today near our reader’s office in San Francisco.  It’s a pic from the set of Trauma, a show that will air on NBC and apparently caused a lot of drama by filming a fake tanker-trailer explosion and a fake old-person-plowing-through-a-pedestrian-market.  Two great tragedies that apparently go great together, in the minds of the show’s producers.

Things appear calmer outside the lobby of 1 Bush Street, where our fearless reader snapped this pic:

Doubleawk, shining the spotlight on the behind the scenes folks from the NBC drama "Trauma."  We're dedicated to challenging the arbitrary bestowal of fame upon only on camera talent.  Or we're too shy to get pictures of the real celebs.

Doubleawk, shining the spotlight on the behind the scenes folks from the NBC drama "Trauma." We're dedicated to challenging the arbitrary bestowal of fame upon only on-camera talent. Or we're too shy to get pictures of the real celebs.

The photo comes to us courtesy of Charles: dear friend from college, real estate development mogul, and now celebrity photog #3 here at doubleawk.  Charles, be warned that the filming of this show might create a fake disaster area near your office.  Plus side?  Maybe you could leave work early.

My research on Trauma yields the following: it’s yet another medical show.  Now, to my knowledge, NBC just finally got rid of a medical show that no one had watched since I was in high school.  Why in God’s name would they invest so heavily in another?  (Obviously, closing San Francisco overpasses so you can stage a controlled tanker explosion isn’t just scary and stupid.  It’s also really freaking expensive.)  The medical drama is an overdone genre as it is.  I hate to bag on the show of a fellow Dartmouth alumna, but Grey’s Anatomy has basically pole-vaulted the shark at this point.  Wedding swaps?  Ghosts?  The afterlife elevator metaphor?  (Which isn’t to say I don’t still watch it online.  It’s just to say that I’m embarrassed to admit it.  But isn’t humiliating myself what doubleawk is really all about?).  Why-oh-why would NBC want to cram its way into this high-budget, overdone market?  Oh, right, because this show is supposed to be different.  It’s not about doctors, or nurses (finally becoming characters in their own right on Nurse Jackie, another show I haven’t seen), but paramedics.  Is this some sort of attempt to reach out to a more working class audience, tired of the problems of neurotic doctors?  Is it a social/cultural phenomenon sprung from the tensions of the healthcare reform debate?  I don’t know.  And I still don’t care.  I won’t be watching it, unless there’s a chance I can see Charles in the background.

Here is Charles, shown "licking [his] lips in anticipation of being in [my] blog."  That's a direct quotation from him.  Good to know that doubleawk has such loyal fans, even if they are fans because they are our dear friends.  Who needs celebrities when we have hottie paps like Charles and John on the loose?

Here is Charles, shown licking his lips in anticipation of being on my blog. That's a direct quotation from him. Good to know that doubleawk has such loyal fans, even if they are fans because they are our dear friends. And who needs celebrities when we can ogle hottie paps like Charles and John?

Even if Charles had managed a picture of an actor, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him/her.    I haven’t heard of any of the people on this show (which doesn’t mean they’re not great actors, just that they’re not celebrities).

There is, however, an actor on the show named Billy Lush, which is a completely awesome name.  Hopefully he plays a down and out alcoholic whose drinking ruins his personal life, but doesn’t stop him from being one heck of an EMT.

So, my faithful followers, the floodgates have opened: send me a picture of a famous person/movie set/site of fame-whore interest as well as a picture of yourself awkwardly lurking around, and I’ll post them here at doubleawk.

Yours in awkwardness,  Leda

Eat Pray Love Stalk

Husband/Investigator John.  He's posing as a neighborhood resident enjoying a stroll and an iced coffee.  Here, he shows us the truth: "I'm watching you, Julia and James and sundry crew members."

Husband/Investigator John. He's posing as a neighborhood resident enjoying a stroll with an iced coffee. Here, he shows us the truth: "I'm watching you, Julia and James and sundry crew members."

My second post as a celebrity stalking blogger and I’ve already dispatched an assistant to do my dirty work.  That’s code for “A major motion picture is filming in my neighborhood, but I’m trapped on a bus to Hartford, so I’ve sent my husband on a mission to collect photographs.”

The aforementioned major motion picture is Eat, Pray, Love, based on the memoir by Elizabeth Gilbert that I haven’t read.  It stars Julia Roberts.  And you can turn that IMDB rumor into a trumor: James Franco does indeed costar.  That’s right, my intrepid reporter/husband snapped a photo of Mr. Franco heading down Atlantic Avenue to his trailer.  Mr. Franco and I have something in common; we are both students at creative writing MFA programs in New York.  Of course, it wasn’t enough for him to outdo me in the looks, fame, and wealth department.  He’s also showing me up by attending two schools, whereas I only go to one.  And I haven’t even started yet.  Oh well, I guess I won’t be chatting him up about the writing life at a local coffee shop anytime soon.  Sorry, James.  I’m on location for my job, too, in Vermont.  Actually, on a bus.

James Franco

See that dark-haired head on the right? The guy walking with the skinny girl? John assures me that it's James Franco, and I believe him. This blog seems to specialize in tiny, distant pictures of celebrities. You might say we're a new, unobtrusive breed of paparazzi.

So above is the photo John took of James Franco, after walking five feet behind him for quite a while, but waiting until he crossed the street to take James’s picture.  John didn’t see the point in taking a picture of his butt, but I bet there are plenty of people who would be quite pleased to see a picture of his butt (James’s, not John’s, although let me tell you, John has a really great butt.  It’s just not famous.  Yet.)  As you can see, the photo was taken at 164 Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn–the border of Cobble Hill/Brooklyn Heights, aka, a view I can see from my bedroom window.  Maybe, just maybe, immediately after this photo was taken, James Franco looked up and tried to peep into my room.  It would serve me right.  But the joke is on him, because 1) I just got new blinds.  And 2) I’m still on a bus to Hartford.  Looks like only one of us will have our privacy violated today, James.

We actually learned about the shoot yesterday, when embarking on a failed mission to sneak onto public tennis courts without a permit (we wound up driving to Long Island to play tennis.  Ridiculous, especially when you consider how much I suck at tennis.)

The telltale shooting (film, not violent) signs were in full force: trucks with film equipment, important looking people talking on cell phones, nosy neighbors (like me!) congregating on the sidewalk, and no parking signs everywhere.  And I mean everywhere!  They stretch several blocks on Clinton, Atlantic, and Pacific.  Guess we won’t be moving our car ever again.  And by ever again, I mean Tuesday when the street-sweepers come.

We spotted burly men bringing film equipment into 172 Pacific Street, which is this adorable white house with a red door and beautiful windows–one of the places we fantasize about owning if we had a bazillion more dollars.  And of course, we felt a smug pride that some film director shared our tastes.  We were remarking on how obviously totally awesome our neighborhood is because this is the second shoot this week, when we passed by two men.

Before I continue with this story, it’s important for you to know that on my way to play tennis yesterday, I looked like this, except that I wasn’t even trying to make the Julia Roberts face that John coached out of me here:

Me, trying to make a Julia Roberts face while wearing an ugly tennis outfit.  Also pictured: badonka a donk.  I think it's the shorts, though.  Note to Julia: I'm sure your ass doesn't look like this, and mine normally doesn't either.

Me, trying to make a Julia Roberts face while wearing an ugly tennis outfit. Also pictured: badonka a donk. I think it's the shorts, though. Note to Julia: I'm sure your ass doesn't look like this, and mine normally doesn't either.

“Hi, Julia.”  One of them said.  I choked out some sort of confused, nervous giggling sound.  But I’ve gotten slightly bolder in my two forays into celebrity stalking, so I asked them what was shooting.

“Eat, Pray, Love,” They said.  “With Julia Roberts.”  Score double.  A huge, major movie being shot in the nabe (God, everytime I use that word it sounds like a body part, so that shot in the nabe sounds like a hideous sex crime!  Sorry!), and an allusion to my having some sort of celeb like qualities.  Probably the glasses.  But I’m going to pretend it was the confident, sexy charm.

Today I had hoped to spot some real celebrities before embarking on my work trip, but ran out of time and thus sent John to do so.   So far he’s been better with the info than the evidence (He’s too polite to shove his iPhone in people’s faces).  He was able to confirm that the actors’ trailers are located on Atlantic Avenue, between Clinton and Court.  Even more exciting, he actually spotted Julia and walked right past her, but claimed he was “too close” to comfortably take a picture.  Sounds like I should have trained my staff a bit more thoroughly before leaving town.  (Trained my staff can also sound dirty if you want it to).

He did, however, snag a photo of the real paparazzi, waiting around for one of these stars to show up.

Here are the real paparazzi, as photographed by John.  I enjoy the meta-ness of photographing the photographers.  Or paparazzing the paparazzi.  Maybe I can make a blogging career out of that!

Here are the real paparazzi, as photographed by John. I enjoy the meta-ness of photographing the photographers. Or paparazzing the paparazzi. Maybe I can make a blogging career out of that!

Such waiting is a lot easier to do if you live nearby, so you can run upstairs and pee, or change your outfit to blend in on set and maybe get cast as an extra (see my post on Gossip Girl).

And here’s a photo confirming the filming, so it doesn’t just sound like I made this whole thing up in a desperate effort to drum up blog material.

Nothing captures the excitement of a film shoot like no parking signs.

Nothing captures the excitement of a film shoot like no parking signs.

But stay tuned, faithful reader.  If John snaps a pic of Julia, you’ll be the first to know.  Actually, I will.  But I promise to share it with you right away.

Until then, I’ll try to absorb some of the self-helpy message of the film: I already ate pancakes this morning, I’m praying for a great picture of Julia, and I’m loving my life as a  Celebrity Stalkward blogger.