May 29, 2006 12:00:00 Posted at May 29, 2006 12:00:00
Cannes is an absolute madhouse. First of all, the Croisette is packed all the time. And unless you"ve been given official media accreditation, you just never know where on the beach the photo calls will take place. So everyone just ends up running from one end to another trying to get snaps of the stars and even if you do manage to catch them at a good time, like when I stumbled across Charlie Sheen et al for the Platoon revival, the pappies and the crazed megafans end up bumping you out of the way anyway. Believe me, you don"t want to f&ck with either of those. I did this for all of 2 hours. Then my husband decided to remind me I"m actually his wife and that he did not consider celebrity stalking a fun part of his marriage so we hit the beach instead. Beach, beer, and ciggies. It was fabulous. However, just being in Cannes means that you can"t go a day without running in to someone, no matter how inconsequential. Aside from Bruce and Avril on the red carpet, I did manage to see Tara Reidstumbling about with a couple of friends. In person, she is as raggedy skitty as she is in photos. Except worse. I call it the "Overgrown Mall Girl" look. You know Matthew McConnaughey"s hilarious character in Dazed & Confused? The guy who can"t leave high school? In his 20s, still hanging around the football field because being an adult loser obviously pales in comparison to the glory days of his senior year? Well Tara Reid is the female version. And you can find her low classy clones killing time at your local Galleria, worshipped by 16 year olds who don"t know any better. Tara was bleached and puffy, skirt too short, furtively looking about secretly hoping that people would know - and care - who the hell she was but also pretending not to want to be seen. It was really, really sad. My heart went out to her for a minute. Until she turned to the side and I noticed how her tits seemed to make contact with her knees. That"s when I cursed the bitch for making me gag on my Marlie menthol. Yum. And then there was Liz Hurley, making a grand entrance in a white dress, surrounded by a thousand photographers. I had to climb up on a chair to get a good look while J hissed at me under his breath and then dashed away, evidently regretting the day he proposed. Liz also looks exactly as she does in photos. Except in photos you don"t appreciate how stiff she is. I"m telling you, there is no grace to that woman. Everything, everything is practised and posed and painstakingly calculated. She was sucking in the whole time, muscles taut, her arms flexed unnaturally by her side but were almost, just to eliminate any possibility of someone snapping her from an angle where she didn"t look toned. I was completely fascinated and have since developed a newfound appreciation for the witch bump on the end of her nose. Here"s a girl who wants it bad and will do anything to get it. Elizabeth Hurley, my friends, is a working girl through and through. And hey - we middle class folk have to stick together, don"t you think? As for Kiki and the much hyped Marie Antoinette appearance. Um… so…like…I kinda missed it. The sun, it"s so deceiving in France! The wind blows and you feel a cool breeze and you don"t really know how bronzed you"re getting and then you get back to the hotel and all of a sudden you have a killer tan but all the energy is sapped and you"re dehydrated and well… then you just have to take a nap, you know? The best kind of nap. A post-sun nap. The drool and sweat kind of nap. And when you wake up, it"s dark outside, past 10pm and yay! It"s time for dinner because no self respecting person eats dinner before 10pm in France. But my chance to befriend Kiki was gone…which only meant another night of decadent food and drink. So will you forgive me? I didn"t hook up with Kirsten Dunst, y "all. I had a nap instead. But do you recognise the Queen beside me?