Random Celebrity Spotting, Redux, and Even More Random Observations

Last night, as I was making my way from the press filing center to my designated spot, I saw Jason Lewis, who is a local radio personality, and with whom the local readers will be familiar.  Man, was he looking chunky!  Also, I saw Normy Boy, who was with his wife, who was dressed like, I am sad to say, a hooker.  Holy hell, does she need to get some clothes that don't make her look like a street walker.  But she was there, so that should appease all of those people who actually think they have a functioning marriage, which I don't think they do.  Christie Todd Whitman, who was in the midst of an intense conversation with someone I assume was a female staffer, whipped right by me, as did the ex-Wonkette, Ana Marie Cox.  Bleh.  She's of medium height, but was sensibly enough, wearing running shoes, which cannot be said about most women at this convention. 

If you're thinking there aren't any Hollywood types here, think again: I saw Joe Pantoliano, better known as the nutcase Ralphie on The Sopranos and Cypher in The Matrix., on the main concourse, about to enter one of the media booths.   He was walking around with a flat cap on backwards, per usual, and was carrying a silver-handled cane, which I'm not sure was for effect, or because he actually needed it.  He was desperately trying to get away from someone who came up to him with the line, "Hey, I'm so and so, and I sent you a screenplay..."  

And, finally, as I was waiting for the elevator to get up to my designated spot, the doors opened and, once again, I saw John Boehner, House Minorty Leader in the back of it---and, again, he was looking uncomfortable.  Twice in one day.  Impressive, eh?  Anyway, they wouldn't let me on the elevator while he was on it, and when the apologetic operator came back down to get me, she asked me who he was.  I told her.  She shrugged and gave me a "whatever" sort of look.  She couldn't have honestly cared less. 

I have two observations to make.  First, I seriously hope the Crackberry people had a promotional party here, because everyone and their mother has one.  And I'm not kidding.  Even the people running around with "guest" badges have their little fists clenched tightly around their little bit of connection to the outside world.  It's crazy.   These people are addicted, I swear to God.  I've seen some iPhones, but nothing compared to the number of Crackberries running around.  Second, there are a lot of news producers running around.  A lot of them happen to be female.  They're all dressed to the nines and are wearing four-inch stillettos.  And they all have the calves of an Everest sherpa.  Honestly, I don't know how they do it.  They run around all day, in those shoes, and they never looked tired, and they never take off their shoes to rub their feet.  Gah.  Hell, I wore nice shoes the first day, and, as a result, one foot was bleeding.  I took them off, and walked around barefoot for the rest of the day, shoes in hand, like I'd just walked off the beach.  They'd rather die, I suspect, than be barefoot.  This crowd is a podiatrist's dream, I tell you.