I’ll bet most Entertainment Contributors spend a great deal of their precious time chasing down the elusive interview with one famous star or another. Well, I’m no “Featured Contributor” but I did track down our own little “Lady Gaga” recently. She strolled downstairs this morning, exuding her usual civility and grace. I politely asked her if I could interview her. She snapped her head around and snarled at me. No one said this was going to be easy.
I gave her a little “me” time, and again presented my proposition. If she agreed to be interviewed by me, I would buy her that Porche she had been asking for. She pondered this carrot during her breakfast of yogurt and a spoonful of chocolate frosting, and agreed.
When she finished licking the spoon, she retired to the powder room. Fifteen minutes later I asked her what she was doing. “Lady Gaga is preparing her toilette!” she screamed through the bathroom door. “Sheesh”, I thought, “It’s an interview, not a damn movie shoot.” Finally, Lady Gaga appeared, in full regalia. Shorts that barely could qualify for an article of clothing, a camisole covered by a tank top covered by another tank, and perfect hair and make-up of course, should anyone from American Idol stop by.
She swept past me and my handy note pad, and plopped herself down in the living room. I ga-gaaad on the cloud of perfume and followed, taking the foot rest at her feet for my perch.
Me: “Lady Gaga, can you tell me where you were born?”
Lady Gaga: (looking at me as if I had a boil on my nose)”You know where I was born. You were there, bossing everyone around as usual.” She began examining herself in a hand mirror, checking for imperfections that might have appeared during the night.
Me: Uh, okay. Let”s go another route. What determined your current path in life?”
Lady Gaga: (rolling her eyes and tearing up the living room searching for her new phone that she cannot live without) “I’d say my mother did. Gram! Have you seen my phoooone?” Gram tells her it would be where she left it. Lady Gaga groans and looks under the cushions. “Then there was Nanny, my Dad, Maxi, Gram, Ter, and Cam. Oh and let’s not forget yooooouuuuu.” She was going to be a tough nut to crack. “Gram! Are you sure you didn’t take it? Oh, nevermind. Found it!”
Me: “Could you tell me just how these people influenced you?”
Lady Gaga: (texting her friends to tell them how stupid I am) “Yeah, hold on.” More texting…”Okay,,,no, wait, hold on……………..”
Me: “Why don’t I just get a cup of coffee? I can see you’re very busy.” By this time I had sensed this interview was going nowhere.
Lady Gaga: (completely ignoring me, and mimicking the “Wow! That’s a low price!” commercial, while texting and making fun of the little guy who has just come downstairs) “Eeeewwwww. Are you still here?” He laughs because he thinks insults are funny.
I drag out my e-cig. Lady Gaga immediately freaks out, screams that I’m trying to kill her, and threatens she’s going to tell her mother. The little guy sides with me because he’s a bright kid, and I give him soda when no one’s looking. He tells her she’s an idiot, didn’t she know that my e-cig was fake? He called it my 50 dollar fatty, which he picked up from me a few days ago when he was eavesdropping on a phone conversation I was having. I better speak to him about that.
Lady Gaga: “Are we done? I’m going to Nashville, so I need to pack.”
Me: “You aren’t going anywhere until we finish this interview, so have a seat.”
Lady Gaga: (faking a sudden knee injury) “This is child abuse.”
Me: “So call a cop and tell me how you have been influenced, dammit.” (The little guy bugs his eyes out when I use foul language. He loves it. I tell him they’re going to get stuck like that, and he says, “Cool!”)
Lady Gaga: (contemplating taking a behavioral lesson from the real Lady Gaga, but thinking better of it because she values the good life) “Well, considering all the positive influences in my life, it’s difficult to attribute to one specific person the consistent and powerful support and encouragement I have received in my life to date.” With that, our Lady Gaga swept out of the room.
Me: (wide eyed and open mouthed) “er…uh…” Reality sets in. “What a bunch of BS.” The eldest grandniece comes upstairs.
Me: (in my sweet voice) “Hey, hunny. Can I interview you?