Gwyneth (the Bride of Coldplay), Celebrity, Katrina

What is it about Gwyneth Paltrow that pisses people off? Oops, I meant "The Bride of Coldplay", as some more irreverent media outlets have started referring to her (excellent). TBOC baffles me, to be honest. On one level she comes off as the accessible pal-around jokester, down to earth, even a bit plain, just kinda cool. Then you blink and she's this prep-glammy bitch with a fruit baby and an ego larger than the Atlantic that currently separates her from her former provenance of NYC. (Though wait, I should make it clear that I thought the Apple thing was brilliant. Who cares? There are people named Chastity and Craddock and Wayne, for chrissake. At least Apple is pleasant. Name your babies whatever you want. Like Trilby. Heh.) But I dunno. She does seem a bit smug and self-satisfied... there is an off-putting sense of entitlement about her, even when she's playing fragile. I also find her English accent annoying. Better than most, definitely, but too precise... like those typefaces that try to replicate handwriting but then all the vowels look exactly the same. You know it's fake because those A's are exactly the same. You know she's working too hard because she nails exactly the same things every time... "per-Fect", "An-uh-thing" (hmmm, I will have to wax on about accents in another entry).

Why do we respond to celebrities at all? Sometimes because we sense something in them that we recognize in ourselves. I'm sure I've enjoyed TBOC in movies because it occurred to me on some level that she and I would get along. Yes, yes, you respond to the character, but the actor is inhabiting that character and so therefore you project all your shit onto them like you know them, blah blah blah. I think this happens across the board, consciously and un-, from the stalkers and psychos who then hunt the poor celebs down and swear they are their kindreds... to the average joe who likes what he's seeing but can't identify why... to the elitist who insists she is immune to celebrity but then has seen everything a certain artist has ever done.

I am just kind of rambling now (crazy workday... needed a break), but speaking of names (I was, wasn't I?), I need to document this story before I forget it. I have the misfortune of belonging to the full name Katrina. Yes, like the hurricane (and that woman who is, to this day, still Walking on Sunshine). Though I shun this name (have since the 3rd grade) and Kate is a much better fit, my full name is still printed on things like my debit card. Though the recent hurricane has resulted in many headlines that are funny as hell when taken out of context and applied to me (my favorite was "Flipper the firing dolphin let loose by Katrina", though anything that says "Katrina victims" is good too), it has also resulted in some unforunate behavior. Recently, at the corner deli, the woman behind the counter saw my full name on my debit card and let out a disapproving little half-scream before crossing herself against my evil. The Dominican grannies in line behind me discovered the cause of her upset and clicked their tongues at me. For a minute I honestly thought I was going to be tossed out of the deli. "I had never heard that name before... before YOU KNOW," said the woman behind the counter in ominous tones as she curtly handed me my receipt. If there was ever a time to have meteorological superpowers, that would have been it... They didn't call me Firestarter on the elementary school playground for nothing—I can blaze a mean glare when I need to, and how I would have loved to have given the grannies "the Look" combined with a bit of high wind or flashes of lightening. Ah well.

Damn, this is a random ass blog. But then, I guess that's what it's for. Anyway, ranting has enabled me to procrastinate a while, so... cheers.