Special Tuesday questions, Nicole Richie edition

I miss her.  I’m not too proud to say it.

For a brief moment, she was the object of our collective fascination.  And who could blame us?  There she was on a small screen in our homes, bringing her glamour and her insouciance into our lives.  Like a Diet Coke to balance out a heavy meal, she brought an effervescent sweetness with a hint of alluring artificiality.

In truth, I never saw much of the television program that catapulted her to stardom. Entranced by its sharp take on American bourgeois  life and by the delights of its protagonists, I knew I would become like a hapless viewer beguiled by the Entertainment.  For my own sanity, I tore my eyes away after only a few minutes of watching. It was… difficult.

Thankfully, she was everywhere.  Her elegant style.  The classy company she kept.  One could not escape the crystalline stillness of her gaze from many a glossy magazine cover.  I was comforted.

Alas, even the rarest bloom must drop its petals under the weight of time.  So, too, her fame has faded.  No longer does she perch atop the perilous wave of celebrity.  She swims toward it, to be sure, but sadly its crest now propels others toward the beach of notoriety.  Forlorn she bobs in the bay of infamy past its “sell-by” date.

Yet I miss her.  I do. But hope remains!  If Paula Abdul can have a career renaissance, then so can America’s quondam sweetheart.

So tell me, do you miss her too?  Do you miss Paris Hilton?

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59 thoughts on “Special Tuesday questions, Nicole Richie edition

      • Can I tell my NatGeo story? I’m going to tell my NatGeo story.

        When I was in high school, we’d occasionally rent a house from a priest for vacation. He lived there most of the year so the house was filled with his stuff… including an impressive NatGeo collection. Being a teenage boy and stuck with my family in a house with few TV channels and no internet, I felt I needed to do SOMETHING about the matter. I grabbed a NatGeo and retreated to the basement bathroom to, um, do something. Lo and behold, what did I find? Some sort of pornographic flyer tucked into the pages! I don’t think I really understood what it was… it might have been advertising videos or escorts or toys or maybe all three. I dunno. It had boobs… better boobs than the NatGeo. It did the trick. Though it did make me wonder about that priest.

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      • Before the internet, distribution was a bit problematic.

        We had to rely on the “locate soggy pile of magazines, surreptitiously discarded in the woods” distribution method.

        And we blessed that furtive litterbug with all our young hearts.

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      • See? This is yet another area where the gays have it over us heteros: They can just look in the mirror and more or less see what they’re interested in seeing.

        Though, being a complete and utter narcissist, this particular shortcoming is of little consequence for me.

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      • I really can’t speak with any expertise on this but were I a betting man, I’d bet that this falls into the whole “you can’t tickle yourself” exception for self-interaction.

        And I find it less appalling to theorize about this openly than to say something like “dude, clear this up for us” to those who might be able to. It seems unseemly, somehow.

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      • Well, I like myself now in the mirror. In fact, I have commented in passing that I would date myself, if I happened upon other-me in a bar.

        Of course, given how shy I am, and how shy other-me would likely be, we’d never actually speak. Instead, there would be that cautious glance, briefly exchanged, the hints of a smile — but not too much! don’t take the chance! — the little “oh look a girl-like-me I wonder if she’s a dyke-like-me?” moment.

        But the night would draw on; drinks would be emptied; we would dance, but never near the other; then two cab rides alone.

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      • Speaking for myself, ‘s got it right on this one.

        So imagine, you men who were boys finding the magazines discarded in the woods, my despair at trying to find something remotely gay in those hard-won (!) straight magazines. Sometimes the more raunchy ones would have ads for gay movies in the back. My porn was a tiny ad I squinted at the back of your magazine. ;-)

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      • Tom Selleck is one of the celebrities I’ve seen in the wild. He was in the line behind us to see Cyrano de Bergerac (the French subtitled/Gerard version) in 1990(?) in Santa Monica.

        Dude’s tall.

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  1. No.

    In fact, I actively disdain the current celebrity culture, perhaps partly because I miss what celebrity culture used to be. Growing up in the ’90s I devoured any TV shows, movies, books, etc. on my favorite musicians, writers, directors, actors, etc.

    There was a point when you could turn on MTV and see a band talking about the making of their album. That gave way to a pop star talking about the cars in his garage. And now it’s just non-interesting people milking the fifteen minutes they get for getting knocked up at 16 or their willingness to participate in some scripted reality show.

    I know this sounds hopelessly quaint, but when the likes of Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian are mentioned, I cannot help but ask. “what do they do?”

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  2. This is an April Fool’s joke, right?

    We still lived in L.A. the last time Paris made big news for flashing her pubes while driving drunk. It was a huge story on the local news when she landed in jail.

    I miss Paris about as much as I miss Los Angeles.

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