Sunday, May 31, 2009

"I won't quit 'til I'm a star on Broadway..."

Yesterday, we had my sister's baby shower at my mother's house.

My mom's cousin saw the picture of Cheyenne Jackson on my mom's fridge (he should feel very honored, that fridge is reserved for Christmas photos of immediate child relatives only) and asked, "Who is THAT? He is GORGEOUS."

I told her that was my pal, a Broadway actor whom my mom was also very fond of, and, as chance would have it, he would be on television that evening opening the Tony preview concert.

Most of the guests were gone by 7 PM, but my mom told those who lingered that they had to hang around until they could all see Cheyenne on television.

Which we did...even though nobody had any idea who he was, and my Aunt Barbara told everyone that he had also been on All My Children with Susan Lucci a few years ago.

And so we watched the segment...and they all my mother's living room, surrounded by baby swings and blue and brown decorations.

I've always said (well, for the last five years or so), that this guy rates very high on my list of "older brothers I have always wanted"...and as everyone cheered in my mother's living room after his "On Broadway" segment, it looks like he also has a crazy Italian-American extended family that will gladly treat him like one of his own!

Here's the fantastic clip...

Diana Rissetto

Seriously, Mary Camden?

The other day, I read that Jessica Biel feels she is too beautiful to get good acting roles.

And I laughed-out loud.

I think there are some people who would say that I'm, of course, JEALOUS of Jessica Biel.

Of course I'm not.

If a girl is beautiful, I'll say she's beautiful. I'm no slouch myself. Fine, I'm not a supermodel, but I know I'm adorable. (Whatever, that sounds obnoxious, but I hear it enough!)

But this girl really thinks her earth-shattering beauty is the reason she's not winning Oscars?


Now, I'm all for quirky beauty.

I think Adrian Brody is hot...and if you just look at his face, it's probably not one that would normally be called handsome.

And Sarah Jessica Parker? I think she's gorgeous...despite some of the horrible, vicious things I hear people say about her appearance.

Despite Adrian and SJP and other unconventional beauties that find success...I think good looks still do nothing but help you in Hollywood...and Jessica Biel is delusional.

Can you just imagine a casting decision?

"Who do we have lined-up for this role, sir?"

"Well, we have a bunch of young Oscar-winning actresses...we have Kate Winslet, Angelina Jolie, Reese Witherspoon, Nicole Kidman, Catherine Zeta Jones...OH! And we also have that girl that was on Seventh Heaven."



I understand that words get twisted around in interviews...especially in print...but, Jessica Biel, if this is REALLY how you need to snap out of it...because you're showing to be quite unattractive in the way that really matters.

Diana Rissetto

When I was your age, I had to walk five miles in the snow with no shoes...

On Friday, I went by the American Girl Place.

Now, I'm an adult. I guess I've been a legal adult for about nine years...but I haven't forgotten the things I loved when I was a kid (as I just reread Judy Blume's Just As Long As We're Together the other day and it really was just as good as it was years ago).

The American Girl Collection came onto the scene when I was in the 2nd or 3rd grade. I got a Molly doll and books for Christmas. Molly was my favorite, and probably part of the reason my lifelong obsession with the 1940's began.

None of the little girls in my life are old enough for American Girl stuff, so I really had no reason to go by there...but I did.

And I learned that there is a NEW American Girl, a modern one, named Chrissa.

I browsed through Chrissa's introductory book.

This book involves getting nasty text messages and emails. Chrissa, like all American Girls, is nine.

Okay, I remember being a kid and always making sure that I had quarters on me to make a phone call.

I remember occasionally, a classmate didn't have a quarter and had to make a COLLECT CALL (GASP!) I even remember my friend Lauren having to do so to let her mother know she had to stay late after school, so and bursting into tears.

I also remember, at nine-years-old...not really having much of a life.

What exactly DOES a nine-year-old do for fun?

I'd read books.

I was just starting to really write stories.

I'd go to school and see my friends.

I'd say goodbye to my friends.

And sometimes (just sometimes) friends and I would see each other after school.

If we needed to talk to each other (for whatever reasons!), we would have to call each other at home...and risk having to speak to a parent or sibling...and ask if we were home.

We didn't have cellphones.

We didn't have emails.

And we turned-out okay.

I have no idea why nine-year-olds need these things...I don't think ANY kid really needs a cellphone until, perhaps, they start driving. I didn't get a cellphone until I was about 20-years-old and in college, and only then because my mother FORCED me to get one.

If she hadn't done that, I probably would still be carrying around quarters and looking for payphones.

In fact, I carried around my first cellphone for about five years, until the masking tape that held it together was no longer doing its job and I had no choice. (That actually describes my relationship with my first car...I rode it until it fell apart...with me in it...that car was my father's, and the car I remembered us taking family trips in and my dad driving to work I had a pretty strong attachment to it...but, then again...I'm sure my dad would also want me to be safe!)

I always joke that I'm really an 80-year-old in a young body, and it is times like these when I feel it stronger than ever.

Don't rush growing-up, Chrissa...haven't you ever watched Little House on the Prairie? Road to Avonlea? The Baby-Sitters Club! They were modern and cool in their day and they got along fine without cellphones and texting and IMing.

Don't be in such a rush to grow-up...there's no turning back.....................

Diana Rissetto