She gets violently angry at her assistant for telling her that the new Beatle counts when playing punch buggy, and a few minutes later rides her like a bull while lingerie shopping. Oh, but not in a sexual way.
For anyone who�s lived in a soundproofed closet for the last ten years, Anna Nicole was born and bred Texas white trash. (I say that with fondness. Really.) She married billionaire Howard Marshall in 1993, lived off him until his death a few years later, and then entered a bitter and drawn out lawsuit with his youngest son, Pierce, over his remains, and another lawsuit with all of his heirs over, well, all of his money. She lost most of the money and won half of his body. I am happy to report that it had already been cremated when it was distributed.
This past month, E! Entertainment Television premiered the Anna Nicole Show, a �reality� show that seems to do nothing but follow her around and record her sounding like a moron and acting like a twit. I decided to watch this week.
A few minutes before showtime, I took part in the following conversation:
Bettie: Will you think less of me if I watch the Anna Nicole show?
Oslowe: No.
Bettie: Will you watch it with me?
Oslowe: I might. I'll probably laugh and sneer a bit.
Bettie: Right. Cuz I won't.
Oslowe: Oh yeah. I sorta forgot who you were for a second.
We watched, and he sat next to me the whole time, though at one point I caught him trying to crawl under the couch to hide. It was frightening, yes, but also very funny.
So Anna has, it seems, bought a new house. She babbles on for a few minutes about how most people turn a house into a home by bringing in their furniture, but for her it wasn�t a home until she brought her husband (her half of him anyway) home. Then she yells at her lawyer ( a sad little man for whom I can predict nothing but suicide) and her assistant to bring in the goddamn (I�m not sure about the epithet; with the notable exception of whore they were all bleeped out) dishes. At the last second, she tacks on �please,� but I�m not buying it.
So her lawyer drags in her five million dog statues, and a lone purple plush wingback chair. She sits in the chair with her mop-like dog, and then we cut to the Designer�s arrival. His name is Bobby Trendy. He is about ten years younger than me (that would make him 14) and owns a shop that�s actually quite close to my apartment. I really must check it out.
His vocabulary seems to consist solely of the words �leopard� and �luxurious,� which he pronounces with a few too many syllables. He talks her into the ugliest chair I have ever seen � it is ten feet high, all leopard, and very luxurious. I think it was at this point in the show that Oslowe tried to crawl under the sofa. Perhaps he wanted to make sure that the underside was as luxurious as the rest � in other words, not at all.
The high point in the show, as far as I�m concerned, was after Anna brought Howard Half home and set him on top of the bedroom television, which is twice as big as my TV. Her son came home and came into the room to kiss his mom, and as he departed for his own room she called after him, �Homework first, games later.�
She is truly living the American Dream, and I do not envy her in the slightest.
On next week�s show she will get violently angry at her lawyer, presumably (from the previews) for eating more pizza than her. I cannot wait.
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