Jenny I've Got Your Number
Yet again saw the surprisingly petite Jennifer Connelly at Sweet Melissa's in Park Slope this afternoon. She was with her two boys - older one named Kai, younger one named Stellan, which I know because I was totally eavesdropping.
Miss J got a phone call that she was really excited about and proceeded to try and make plans to get together with the person on the other end of the horn. "I'm not going to the Academy Awards," she said. "I'll be in London." Later she told her eldest son that pull-ups are harder than push-ups. Good to know.
She and her person Paul Bettany live in the building directly behind me. (Of course, they have the entire building; I live in a mouse hole.) I saw her and her youngest son Halloween shopping at one of the local toy stores last October (which is weird because I also saw her the same day I saw Yoko Ono Halloween shopping the year before - obviously my life is charmed) and her son kept showing me those rubber monster grippy toys that you squeeze and goo comes out. Every time he did it I crinkled up my nose and said, "Ewww!" and he laughed. Jennifer Connelly laughed too and looked at me and nodded. Clearly, we were on the road to being BFFs.
That night Sarah Kelly came over to help me and my neighbors hand out Halloween candy. It's apparently one of the few blocks in the neighborhood on which you can still go trick-or-treating. We waited and waited and waited for the Connelly-Bettany crew to come and get some candy but they never showed. It kind of pissed me off. What? They're too good to go trick-or-treating like all the other annoying Park Slope Parents™ and their precious mini-clones? How about a trick, Hollyweird!
I should totally try and get a babysitting gig. Whip those Slopebrity richie gits into shape. I just need to find an in. One that's not like, "Oh my god, remember when you were in 'Labyrinth' with David Bowie? That was awesome!" I imagine hanging out at her place while Paul's on location for some action flick called "Firebomb" or "The Smackdown" or something. Even though I'd theoretically be the babysitter, we'd get the minority nanny to take the kids and me and Jenny would hang out on the parlor floor, listening to records, talking about Anna Nicole (we love her!) and Britney (we hope she gets the help she needs!), and doing each other's hair. Jen probably doesn't know how to do Nubian Jewess hair, though, so I'll just do hers. My girl grew up in the Catskills. Are there black people up in there? Jews, I think. But not many blacks. So she could do half of my hair.
