I Don't Know What You Know Me From: Confessions of a Co-Star (13 page)

Sometimes after sitting in the same dark room, answering the same questions over and over, I start to go a little nuts. Isn’t that a definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome? I think I read that somewhere, probably a self-help book. Anyway, a few years ago a publicist taught me how to make it fun. I play the junket game! And I am totally victorious at this game. Between each interview, someone from my crew gives me a new word to fit into my answer, any word, and I have to naturally and honestly incorporate it into my answers during that two-minute interview.

I really excelled at this during the junket for
Elizabethtown
. My standout was “alligator.” When asked how I liked working with Susan Sarandon, I remember saying to one journalist that Susan Sarandon and I got along so well we were like two alligators swimming in the Everglades. Alligators in the Everglades? Do they even swim in pairs? I got a full three seconds of silence from my interviewer. That is the one I’m most proud of. It was awesome—and the crew gets a kick out of the game too. “Helicopter” was a really hard one, especially since I don’t do action movies, but I did it. I bet you a movie ticket that I can work any
word into an interview without lying. Susan and I did get along like two alligators. And Jennifer Aniston is as sweet as a lollipop. Katherine Heigl does not ossify dialogue—she brings it to life! So, while you don’t often see my interviews, because I am just a co-star, if you happen to catch one, see if you can pick out my word. I bet you can’t …

THERE IS A FUNNY THING ABOUT BEING SLIGHTLY
recognizable but not immediately able to place. It happens to me every day of my life if I leave the house—someone wants to know how they know me, what I was in, who I am, and generally why I look so familiar. There has to be an answer, and they need to know it right away. I am not complaining. I knew this was a possibility when I started working more and more. And in a lot of ways it’s the best of all worlds. I can go about my business, run errands, get drinks at a bar, floss my teeth in a public restroom, read a book in a park, walk my dog in my jammies, and maybe I have to answer one of these questions, but I still have my privacy. Every once in a while a weird thing happens, though, that is uncomfortable for everyone involved. It’s when neither the fan nor I can figure out what they know me from. It starts out innocently enough: A person is so enthusiastic about getting my identity right and they are excited to meet me, even though they don’t really know why yet. I am feeling flattered and I want to help. The question in these scenarios is usually, “Aren’t you an actress? I know you! What are you in?” I begin with fan profiling (see my
introduction
if you skipped it), but when my first few tries fail, I have to go to phase two and ask what they like, TV, movies, romantic
comedies, indies? The answer will usually be either “Everything” or “I don’t watch TV, and I never go to the movies.” Now the fan is getting a little impatient, and I start to sweat. My fan starts to doubt me, thinks I’m trying to pull one over on them. But wait, he/she stopped me! My fan will try to help: “Well, what’s the last thing you were in?” “Um…[enter last project here]?” I squirm. The fan says with a sigh, “No. I didn’t see that.” I will then list a few other credits. “No. No. Maybe. No.” I make a last-ditch effort, I’m feeling like shit, the fan is irritated, we’re both late, I blurt out something obscure like, “
The TV Set
?” Fan says, deadpan, “Yeah. That’s it. Cool. Well, ’bye. Nice to meet you.” Fan has lied. We both know this is a lie, but we’re both relieved because we both want this interaction to end, we need it to end. I need it to end because I have been forced to list every job I’ve had in the last fifteen years in order to prove something to a total stranger and I have failed, and Fan wants it to end because now I’m not as shiny and exciting anymore. Fan feels duped, and I’m probably not even the person he/she thought I was in the first place. Fan won’t remember me anyway, and I will just re-promise myself I will never engage like that again. Sometimes I get fun questions like if I’m in a punk rock band. Sometimes I get drunk-girl questions like, “You’re … OHMYGOD! You’re her! Are you her?” I try to be nice. I try to answer them with a smile on my face even if I’m holding my bleeding arm in an ER in the middle of the night. Here are a few of the questions most people who walk by me in an airport, shopping mall, restaurant, bar, ER, Starbucks, bathroom, funeral (I could go on here, but you get it), tend to ask. I’ve included my answers since maybe you’re wondering too. In fact, you may have been one of the people to ask me.

THERE ARE A LOT OF PERKS WHEN YOU
’
RE AN ACTOR
. Free food at work was my second favorite in the beginning, but my first, I have to admit, was the weird stuff. Like seeing celebrities at 5:00 a.m. in no makeup, finding out what they ate and what size shoes they wore, and admittedly the weirdest was listening to them pee. It didn’t happen often, and I don’t have a fetish or anything, maybe I shouldn’t even call it a perk, but there is something so humanizing about bodily functions. I think it’s what really levels the playing field. I have peed next to several
very
A-list celebrities, and every time I hear the tinkle of celebrity pee, I giggle. I have no idea why. They have to pee—I know that—but you know how when you were a kid, it was really jarring to see your teachers outside school, or walking to their car, or crying? That’s what it’s like. In fact, that’s how I feel about celebrities doing anything normal—not “stars, they’re just like us” normal stuff, but
really
normal stuff, like peeing, getting blood drawn, having cramps, dropping their house keys seven times when walking from their car to their front door, forgetting to change out of their slippers
before leaving the house for the day, having a really ratty bathrobe that they never, ever wash, etc., etc. Another aspect of celebrity life that I also envision is that they are so busy and have no free time ever. That they must always be at a fabulous party or rushing from an airport to a photo shoot and then to a fabulous party while sending hundreds of e-mails/texts/tweets from two different smart phones. I imagine that their homes are meticulously organized, that their dogs don’t fight, that they have never had a squirrel die inside the walls of their house which attracted every fly in Southern California, that they have great hair all the time, and that their washing machines don’t break down mid-load the night before a trip.

But what I also wonder—as I stress out about missing a recording session for
Archer
, the animated show I do a voice on for FX, or figure out when I’m flying up to Oakland for a recording session at Pixar, or panic about how I’m going to find time to write this book, while I shoot a video for my Web series,
Reluctantly Healthy
, pack for a month in New Orleans, get another job, read all the scripts that have been e-mailed to me—is if maybe I
am
busier than a real celebrity. I can’t afford a full-time assistant to organize my life, I don’t have a chef cooking meals for me and my family, I barely have time to work out or walk my dog (OK, fine, I do a have a dog walker. I mean, I’m not going to shortchange my dog Buckley, come on). And don’t even get me started on trying to see my friends and still have a social life with my husband and stepkids. It’s a lot to keep straight!

Whenever I begin this rant to my friends, though, I think of
Runner’s World
. Have you heard of that magazine? I used to have a subscription back when I ran (or had time to run), and I was always inspired by the articles it printed about the people training for races. Sometimes it was for a marathon, sometimes just a 5K, but no matter what, these men and women not only
inspired me but reminded me to shut up and stop complaining. I read an article once about a single mother of five (did you catch that? SINGLE MOTHER OF FIVE!) who worked full-time and trained for and ran a marathon!! What the …??!! How did she do that? How did she manage to still feed her offspring? And work? And sleep? And do laundry? And run? She must have a superpower. I think there should be a section of those rag mags called “normal people, they’re better than us!” Because trust me, it’s not as hard to get to work on time if someone is picking you up and driving you there.

Another celebrity lifestyle question I always had was, how did they travel? I knew they did, because there are photos of their bikini-clad bodies everywhere, and I assume they all don’t fly on private jets, it’s so bad for the environment, and since they all drive Priuses, I know they care. Well, either way, I was right. Traveling is different for celebrities and civilian mega-rich people. Did you know there are people you can hire at airports called greeters? I don’t know how much they cost (I’m sure it’s not cheap), but they have been provided for me a few times in the past. Their whole job is to meet your car when you get dropped off! Before you ever reach the greeter, a town car is hired to pick you up and drive you to or from the airport. Well, most of the time. Sometimes (or maybe it’s just me) you’re driven by a PA, or production assistant. I was once driven from the airport to my hotel by a PA in a pickup truck covered in dog hair and slobber. On that day I realized why professional drivers get hired. I didn’t say anything to production, though. I have dogs and didn’t care that much, but I cannot imagine someone like Sir Ben Kingsley having his suitcase thrown in the cab of that truck and having to make small talk about the particular breed of herding dog whose fleece was everywhere and the constant sinus infections the dog is plagued with in the winter months (turns out it wasn’t all slobber). Anyway,
the airport greeter gets your boarding passes for you, walks you through security, gets you settled in the lounge, then, when it’s time to board, walks you to your gate. If you have one of these people, you literally can be sleepwalking through the airport and still get on your flight (I have seen this happen). I had never heard of this magical greeter person until a studio hired one for me. I felt so fancy! The only problem is it’s just like flying first class for work: you get used to it, and then it sucks when you’re back in coach and crammed next to the one person who packed a tuna salad sandwich. Sigh … Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I think yes, especially if you get free drinks during the love.