George Clooney & Einstein

December 13, 2011 18:39:05 Posted at December 13, 2011 18:39:05
Lainey Posted by Lainey
Photos:
Grey Wasp/Blue Wasp/Splash

Have I mentioned how much I like George Clooney? I think he’s a total pro. I think he’s charming. I think he’s smart. I would definitely want to hang out with him. All of the above. And this, this is why I hate his shenanigans. The Italian Queens and the Wrestling Girls. The timing of his escorts and his campaigns. Because it’s so unnecessary. Have I mentioned how much I like George Clooney? I think he’s a total pro. I think he’s charming. I think he’s smart. I would definitely want to hang out with him.

Yes.

Exactly.

If you want her to put you in a headlock in the privacy of your own home, by all means giv’er. But bring your parents to the Oscars and walk a carpet by yourself, then, right?

Here’s when it gets really, really frustrating - his article in the new Esquire. It’s Clooney on Clooney and The Meaning of Life, his thoughts on a wide range of subjects including his dog, his friends, his job, his money, his acting. Sometimes he repeats himself - I’ve heard the Obama “Pakistan” story too many times now - but most of it feels fresh and funny, at least to me.

Especially the part about being there for Richard Kind and how it was that he met his dog Einstein. Look at him sitting there with Einstein! Dude, you don’t need the girl for your Oscar. The dog is enough, trust me, the dog is enough.

And then...

Stacy Keibler puts a picture of the dog up on her Twitter taken from the inside of what looks like a private plane. I bash my head into the wall.

WHY do you do this, George?

Click here to read the full Clooney piece in Esquire but do it when you have time to not skim.

Attached - George leaving Sydney today after speaking at a conference there. He also took time to visit with Cate Blanchett, platonically, because she’s happily married but even if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be interested because he doesn’t ever appear to be interested in interesting women anyway.

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