More Hollyweird

Remember my niece Jennifer? The lizard-mommy? The youngster who is all set to take Hollywood by storm?

Well… she has not achieved fame and fortune yet, but she did send us some of her digital head-shots.

I do not have her permission to post pictures of her, not to mention I refuse to be responsible for the massive hit on the U.S. economy that would result when every male in 12 states drops everything to go haunt Hollywood looking for her.

But I will offer a tantalizing glimpse. Check out these unenhanced (no makeup, no Photoshop, and no contact lenses) peepers:

As I said to my sister… where did we get such a beautiful baby? None of US looks like that!

Sorry

I’ve been asked to post a picture of my niece Jennifer, who aspires to be the next great young movie star in Hollywood.

First of all, I don’t have her permission.

But perhaps even more importantly… if I did post a picture, all of the males reading this blog who fall between the ages of 8 and 80 or thereabouts would immediately drop everything and head for La-La-Land to haunt the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And I refuse to be responsible for the resulting hit on the U.S. economy. Not to mention, all that extra weight suddenly descending on southern California would finally tip the San Andreas Fault and drop us into the ocean.

So no, I will not be posting a picture of Jennifer. But I will give you a hint. She has long dark hair, green eyes, and drives a black car. 😉

Adventures In Hollyweird

(Note: Full names are withheld to protect the identities of the suspects.)

My niece Jennifer (the lizard mommy) moved to Hollywood last June, partly to go to school but also in hopes of pursuing a career in “the business.”

She needs a blog of her own to tell all her adventures, but since she doesn’t have one, I will have to (sigh) make the sacrifice and blog them here.

Last June, Jennifer’s mother (my sister) and I went down on a weekend to help her move. On our last day in town we went for a late lunch at one of the chi-chi sidewalk-dining restaurants on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, the kind of place where limos pull up and get valet-parked. (Yes, they let people like us eat there too; my plastic is as good as anybody else’s.)

Two tables away from us, a man with hair that made Donald Trump’s look good was reading and marking a script. (I’m not kidding about the hair. He looked like somebody chopped off The Donald’s mop, put both it and this guy’s head in a blender, then glued the hair back on crooked.)

Then two guys sat down at the table right next to us, and proceeded to conduct an obvious business meeting. One guy was giving instructions to the other guy, who took copious notes. The next thing I know, the note-taking guy taps me on the shoulder. I look over. He points across the table to Jennifer, and says, “She should be a movie star.”