BOOK NOOK: CELEBRITY sTALKER

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I had a plumbing emergency on Friday that lasted until Tony the Plumber Man arrived on Saturday and made everything better. It turned out to be a minor plumbing problem, but before I knew that, I pictured my little house going up like Old Faithful.

If you know me at all, then you know I am capable of worrying (more than just a bit), expecting the worst (the glass is eternally half empty), and not being able to think about anything other than my worries (I'm so focused).

But during this worry episode, a miracle occurred. A book arrived in the mail Friday afternoon, and it actually distracted me from the plumbing problem. The book is so good and so funny and so sweet and so poignant that I stopped seeing my house as a geyser, and I instead pictured Suzy Soro meeting celebrities, sometimes in chance encounters and sometimes because she was invited to cool parties and dinners because she's a comedian.

The book is called Celebrity sTalker: Stories From a Woman Who Thinks Celebrities Are Dying to Talk to Her. Only They Aren't.

Suzy Soro blogs at Hollywood: Where Hot Comes To Die. I've followed her for quite some time, so I was thrilled when I found out she had written a book. Her blog is great. If you don't follow her, I hereby order you to follow her NOW. Because you are missing out if you aren't a Suzy Soro follower. She will lead you where no other blogger has gone before.

Occasionally, I receive a PERSONAL email from Suzy. She's very nice and always makes me laugh, but I can't help thinking OH MY GOD THIS EMAIL IS FROM SUZY SORO WHO PLAYED THE WOMAN WHO GOT THE LAST CHOCOLATE BABKA ON THAT EPISODE OF SEINFELD.

Okay. I'm over my little fandom thing now, and I can write about the book. Soro tells wonderfully funny stories about running into folks including Angelina Jolie (who was shopping for groceries -- can you believe it?), Brad Pitt, Diana Ross, Oprah, Mick Jagger, Betty White, and the list goes on and on.

What got me hooked, though, is that this book isn't just about meeting celebrities. It's about the ups and downs of Soro's career as an actress and comedian, and how much it means to her to meet these people. It's adorable when she writes about meeting Richard Pryor and having her picture taken with him.

She could count on Phil and Brynn Hartman as friends, and she's loyal to their memories. She refuses to trash Brynn (just in case you've forgotten, Brynn shot and killed Phil and then committed suicide) and explains that people who are in the grip of an addiction don't think clearly. And Brynn was an addict.

But Celebrity sTalker is not a book that will make you feel sad. Here's an example of her great sense of humor and excellent writing as she discusses Malibu:

The supermodels slouching on picnic tables while they have a hearty lunch of an Altoid and a decaf half-caff are interspersed with all the underpaid personal assistants of the rich and famous. Although it's sometimes hard to tell where Rich ends and Poor begins, finding a poor person in Malibu is as rare as finding the Winklevoss twins at Mark Zuckerberg's house. No item in any store in Malibu needs a price tag because it would just prompt the buyer to ask the sales clerk what this "funny little piece of paper" is. If INS ever shows up unexpectedly in Malibu, a lot of pissed-off white people are going to have to learn to load their own dishwashers. 

I'm feeling power mad today, so in addition to telling you to follow Suzy Soro's blog, I hereby order you to buy her book. If you click on the complete title higher up in this post, it will take you to Amazon, where you can get the paperback or buy the e-version for those strange little book reading devices that my kids already told me I won't like and I know they're right because I like to hold a real book in my hands.

And I especially like holding Suzy Soro's book in my hands.

You can also get Celebrity sTalker from Barnes & Noble. It's not expensive, so run along now and make your purchase.

You'll be glad you did.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug