Monday, January 17, 2005
Call me Jennifer.
Jennifer, then. How's everything going?
Well enough, I suppose.
You're going through a bit of a difficult time, I imagine.
Kind of, yeah.
With the whole separation thing.
It's gotta hurt a bit, I would imagine.
Is there something I can help you with, or...?
I hear you moved in with your hairstylist.
Have you been sleeping with your hairstylist?
For God's sake, no.
But you moved in with him.
You don't think that's weird?
Not even a little? I mean, my wife and I separated a few years ago, and I didn't move in with my hairstylist.
Have you looked in the mirror lately?
What are you implying.
That you don't have a hairstylist.
You're dodging my question.
Why do you care who I move in with or not?
Well, I've got a spare room here. You could always come stay with me.
Thanks, but no.
Rent is super cheap.
I'm sure it is.
Does it bother you that everyone is curious about these details of your private life -- your breakup, who you're moving in with, who you might currently be sleeping with?
It's kind of troubling sometimes, sure, but you have to be prepared for that sort of thing in Hollywood. I mean, you have thousands of people watching your every move when things are going well, it's to be expected that even more will put you under the microscope when things turn to shit.
Do you think they hold you to a higher standard because you're celebrities? That, because you somehow managed to escape suburbia and boring 9-to-5 jobs, they think you should be better than this, that you should be impervious things like the end of a marriage?
I think it's the opposite of that, actually. I think that because people expect our lives are so wonderful, that when something terrible like this happens to us, they're secretly thrilled. And they scrutinize each passing moment because they know we're suffering just as much as maybe they have in the past, and they're happy about it.
That's fucked up.
Kind of, yeah. After all, we're all human. We all feel the same joys and the same heartaches. There's no reason to be particularly excited at my heartbreak over anyone else's.
That's a beautiful thing to say. Are you sure you don't want to come and rent one of my spare rooms?
Really, thanks, but I've already moved my stuff into my hairdresser's place.
Remember me if things don't work.