Detail from “Brushes With Fame!” by Steve Willis (scroll down link for bio).
I once dated the guy who held Schwarzenegger’s cigar on that awful Christmas movie, I forget what it’s called. Man was he proud. Bo that is… I don’t think Arnold cared one way or the other…
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Yeh, I worked at this deli in Chi-town where Bob Balaban used to come, nearly every day, I swear. The guy could eat. Pickles. Loved his pickles, had to have two or three with every sammich. And he could eat the biggest one’s we got, lotsa meat, lotsa sauce, that seemed to be his motto. Sammich-wise.
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You ever touch Tom Cruise? Sister’s girlfriend used to do his nails, on the set of one of those Mission Impossible movies, and I guess the guy was cold. Dead o’ summer, this guy’s paw’s as cold as ice, man…
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In the late 70s, I flipped off Madonna. That was back in Bay City, Michigan. It was her, too, Madonna. Cut me off on Euclid Avenue.
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If there’s anyone I’ve ever met with a warm handshake, it’s Philip Seymour Hoffman.
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My wife and I decided we were going to go have brunch in Stillwater, because everyone keeps telling us we should. Oh, it’s so pretty, downtown is pretty, the bridge to Wisconsin’s pretty, the leaves, the rocks, all that. Well, we walk around, impressed I’ll admit, and we get to this little cafe. Looks good, think we’ll have some breakfast. So we go inside, and there’s Jessica Lange sitting there with Sam Whatsisname, the cowboy she’s married to. I elbow Sue and nod and she’s impressed, and we go to order our breakfast–it’s one of those places where you have to place an order, a cafe, not so much a restaurant.
Anyway, the barista flips. I mean he flips. “Don’t you look at Jessica Lange!” he says, none too quietly, I might add. We both give him a look like he’s the nut that he is, and he repeats, almost yelling. “Do not look at Jessica Lange or Sam Shepard. They are members of this community and not here for you to gawk at!”
So I told him we weren’t staring and he starts to bray some more and finally Jessica and Sam stand up and walk out, looking pretty pissed. Now the guy really goes off. “Look what you did! You drove out Jessica!” So Sue and I take off, not before I curse him out.
As we walk out, Jessica Lange’s pulling her coat on and my wife bugs her eyes out at Lange and says “How’s that for staring!” Jessica, I have to admit, looked pretty bummed. Pff… you can keep Stillwater for all I care…
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It was weird. For as much a fan as I am, I never met Walter. Even when he was in town for the Grumpy series. I always just missed him. I’d go into my favorite cafe, and the waitress would nod at an empty coffee cup and say, “That was Walter’s”. Damn. Then I’d go to the convenience store, right in downtown on St. Peter, and there’s be an empty can of cream soda. “Walter’s?” I’d ask. Sure enough. Or in the park, a pal would say, “See that guy?” “What guy?” “That one, with the… hell you missed it! Walter Matthau!” This kept going on and on and on and on, and finally, I just sat down one day in Rice Park and decided to wait until he walked by. Well, I only did that for about an hour or two, ’cause I realized it was pretty stupid.
But you know, it’s like I sense his presence. I look at objects in town and wonder, did Walter touch that?
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I think my sister sold Girl Scout cookies to the Coens. She’s got all her old receipts, I should ask her to look it up.
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