Last night Greg and I rolled up to the premiere of Mr. and Mrs. Smith at the Fox Theatre in Westwood. We didn't have tickets. But Greg had connections, and soon enough we were being ushered down the red carpet. That part was alright. Angelina and Adam Brody were talking to some fans. David Hasselhoff was talking on his cell phone. Some chick from Desperate Houswives was posing for the camz in the most ridiculous over the top way ev. Basically, it was hilarious. But also fun. I was wearing my high wedges which by default make me strut and also jeans and and a wife beater and a black blazer and unwashed hair. It's not what you wear but how you wear it. F.Y.I.

So we walked down the carpet which was like, whatever, because no one is looking at you if they haven't seen you in US Weekly. In the theatre all the seats are markedwith peeps' names except for the first five rows which are for the nobodies, which in Hollywood apparantly means the visual effects supervisor for the film that was sitting beside us and the two industry producers in front. Oh, and also Carrie Fisher, who is a nut, btw. She was raving around flailing her arms and wondering why the FUCK she was in the front effing row. Didn't even recognize her--none of us did--but I saw her eyes and was like aww man, I think that's Princess Lea. She be crazy.

The movie was fun. People clapped a lot. That was nice. And then like, half the people dipped as soon as it was over, which surprised me. I figured if ANYONE stayed for the credits, it'd be that crowd, but whatever. Also, as we left, there was more trash (from the free popcorn and drinks--millionaires don't need to be paying $10 for popcorn, sheesh.)

After we went to the after party, which was hott. There were two bars made of ice and booze aplenty and delicious macaroni and cheese and strawberries and sushi and other meat things. I talked to a woman who was there on a blind date with a man whose son works at Regency. Also, an agent from UTA. Also, a few aspiring screenwriters/actors/people in H.wood. Also, Adam Brody. Holla. Was talking to these kids because they were the only ones in jeans therefore I thought they would be cool? They were aight. But also friends of Adam Brody who came over and introduced himself. He's pretty. And charming. But after a few min his agent or manager or whatevvv came over and was like, "This is ridicious, Adam is the only actor in this movie who is still here. This is unacceptable. We have to leave NOW."

I spent most of the time wandering around the party listening to people's conversations and feeling superior for not being so vapid. I'm not an insider and I'm not out here to try to be an insider. Yes, I'm interning at this place in the biz, but really, that's just to have something to do and learn some things. Everyone at that party wanted something--you could tell. It wasn't a relaxed atmosphere. These people were working.

I thought a lot about celebrity, too, since there were familiar faces all over. I read People. I know all about Ben and Jen and Nick and Jessica and all things, really. But everyone does. It is part of pop culture. Yes, there are people who might not know that Meg Ryan left Dennis Quaid for Russell Crowe, but hello, this is part of the fabric of American culture, and even though I don't actually know these people or actually care who or what they are doing, I would say that to really know what's going on in all things you need to know this stuff. It's not important, but it's part of our society. Deal.

But back to the afterparty. Brad and Angelina entered, did a once-through and left. As soon as each came in they were surrounded by people yielding digicams and others trying to talk to them and congratulate them, I guess. And these were industry people, not the teenieboppers outside who were crying at the sight of them earlier in the evening. Others were whispering that they are apparantly together now. Blah. I know that is the life they chose, blahblahblah, but jesus, they are just people. Once Brad Pitt is standing two feet away from you, he's just a dude. Next.