Oh, Julia Roberts. You ass.
Last night, in NYC, the premiere of Duplicity. It stars Clive Owen and That Woman. The one with the huge mouth and hideous laugh. The one that was so taken with herself when she won an Oscar that she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge (MUCH LESS THANK) Erin Brockovich. You know Erin, right? The woman that Horsey played in a film entitled Erin Brockovich in order to win that gold statue. The one that did the honest-to-goodness work it took to expose corruption and help the families that suffered physically and emotionally because people thought they were dispensable.
I can still see her up on that stage (while watching in the death trap known as the Rodeway Inn in State College), laughing and howling and telling the orchestra conductor that she wasn't going to allow him to play her off stage.
I HATE HER SO MUCH.
Well, a few years back, Jules decided to try her hand at Broadway. She starred in "Three Days of Rain" and, no, I didn't buy a ticket. Even though I adore Paul Rudd. Ugh. Paul deserved so much better. So did Bradley Cooper (who I have since learned to love).
Roger Friedman gave a review of the play that Jules found less then complimentary. Boo hoo. So, when he tried to interview her on the red carpet last night, she was rude like you read about. Because GOD FORBID SOMEONE NOT FALL AT HER FEET AND THINK SHE IS THE GREATEST THING SINCE SLICED BREAD. She likes to hold a grudge. Classy, Jules. Very classy.
Now I know you are thinking, "But aren't you holding a grudge against Julia?" Yes. Yes, I am.
But I don't know Julia. I'll most likely never meet her. And even if I did, I can fake nice with the best of them. Jules, obviously, cannot.
Best of luck with the movie.
HATE!
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