Think I'll have a salad for lunch
I don't hate Rebecca Romijn. I actually have a perverse affection for models these days. Seems in the last five years or so, the female cultural ideal has morphed into something far more insidious than the runway paragon of yore. It's all about the hat trick these days: classic beauty AND wicked intelligence AND wild, nascent success. It's why Reese Witherspoon was destined to win the Academy Award regardless of performance and why I've lately had to slog through about 18 thousand magazine profiles of CBS's Lara Logan. Models, even models turned actresses, feel far less threatening by comparison. Give me a ludicrously provocative fashion spread over another breathless profile of a beautiful, flaxen, well-bred, 25-to-30-year-old Manhattan media professional any day.
Still, RR has been a minor splinter in my thumb for years. My best friend's ex-boyfriend's roommate was Rebecca's sister (swear to god, no, really), and so I'd hear a lot of fourth-hand tales about her beauty and her charms and her success (and how very very stupid and weepy John Stamos was). Then, a few years later, my now-hubby worked with her on a TV show for a few months, which led to this conversation one Saturday morning:
"Hey baby, how'd you sleep?"
"Really well, actually."
"Yay, that's great! Did you dream about anything?"
(Silence) "Promise not to get mad?"
(Knowing sigh) "Yes..."
"Well, so I was making out with Rebecca Romijn..."
So when flipping through my latest dumb women's magazine, which contained a profile of the Lettucehead, I must say I enjoyed this passage about her new TV show quite a lot:
"Romijm reveals a flair for physical comedy, including running full tilt into a bus shelter in pursuit of a story. 'There's no way to fake that,' adds [the show's produer]. 'Rebecca's willingness to make fun of herself and play with her image is courageous.'"
That's right, Rebecca -- you run into that bus shelter as much as you need to get the scene right. Courage, Rebecca. Courage and faith.
Still, RR has been a minor splinter in my thumb for years. My best friend's ex-boyfriend's roommate was Rebecca's sister (swear to god, no, really), and so I'd hear a lot of fourth-hand tales about her beauty and her charms and her success (and how very very stupid and weepy John Stamos was). Then, a few years later, my now-hubby worked with her on a TV show for a few months, which led to this conversation one Saturday morning:
"Hey baby, how'd you sleep?"
"Really well, actually."
"Yay, that's great! Did you dream about anything?"
(Silence) "Promise not to get mad?"
(Knowing sigh) "Yes..."
"Well, so I was making out with Rebecca Romijn..."
So when flipping through my latest dumb women's magazine, which contained a profile of the Lettucehead, I must say I enjoyed this passage about her new TV show quite a lot:
"Romijm reveals a flair for physical comedy, including running full tilt into a bus shelter in pursuit of a story. 'There's no way to fake that,' adds [the show's produer]. 'Rebecca's willingness to make fun of herself and play with her image is courageous.'"
That's right, Rebecca -- you run into that bus shelter as much as you need to get the scene right. Courage, Rebecca. Courage and faith.