Entourage

Do I need to get an “entourage” behind me? You never really see it in the glossy trash mags but every time a celeb walks down the red carpet, or frequents a popular eatery, they are surrounded by a mob of important people. The reason they are photo-shopped out of most pictures is because, let’s face it, who wants to see the simple folk, it’s all about the celebrity! (And yes, I plan to rant at some stage the genius of Warhol’s theory of celebrity) So why would you want to be a part of the entourage? I can imagine, depending on the boss, the work would be tiresome, less than glamorously promised by said employer, no doubt there would be a strong requirement to clean up the mess of dim witted actors and models, and, all in all, would be draining on the soul. I do not doubt the necessity of having an entourage; when in Vegas, my boyfriend spotted Justin Timberlake at a restaurant, dinning with friends at a private table not far from his. Timberlake at one stage stood to go to the bathroom; with him came two seven foot security guards who easily weighed 150kg each, who escorted him to the bathroom and back to the table. I joked, when the BF told me he had spotted Timberlake, asking why he didn’t get his number for me. BF’s frank yet true response was: “There was no way I could get anywhere near him to even exchange looks with him, let alone get his number.” If I were Justin, I would never go anywhere without my entourage.
I have written a list of potentials that could fill the role as my entourage. I guess I will need the following people:

Security – I am going with the big Shaq on that one. No one said I couldn’t have something hot to look at whilst feeling a sense of protection? There would need to be one other; probably my favourite wrestler, Randy Orton. So dreamy, so muscley. Perfect if he happens to get snapped with me by the paparazzi. I shall ask them not to edit him out. Having said that, if he is meant to protect me, I hate the thought of losing him to a bullet in the chest whilst in the line of duty. Better audition someone less valuable. Note to self: find ugly people.

Manager – I have a really gorgeous savvy friend of mine who will do this for me. She is amazing; a killer smile and body, however she has the unrelenting personality and intelligence that, if meeting her in an argument, you are sure to lose. Let’s pretend, for fun’s sake, that she isn’t able to get Monday’s off work so I have to hire someone else to come to Hollywood with me. I need someone business smart, ruthless and willing to defend my every stupid decision and every sordid affair, real or made up by the money hungry slappers of the world. I need someone better than CC Babcock, the worst manager/advisor/assistant ever. Poor Mr Sheffield, of the Nanny, was persuaded not to produce a show that “was about a bunch of pussy cats singing in a garbage can” by CC, at the time, the most important person of his life. Good old Andrew Lloyd Webber saw something in Cats; I need me a Drew. I need a Dre, the doctor variety, to bring me out of the wood work to stardom. Speculation on this particular role is tough; let’s hold auditions.

Wanted: one manager willing to sell sole for my fame. Glory: minimal.
Casting Agent: Ari Gold. Enough said.

As I sit here, writing this on a lonely Saturday night, I am watching a marathon of HBO’s Entourage. Currently Turtle is sharing a spliff with Jamie Lynn in a massive hot tub, surrounded in bubbles and champagne. Drama is getting a massage in his trailer between takes on his TV show and Eric is having a drink with Sloan. The scene ends with Vince arriving home to an empty house; the shot fades out on the dark house as he calls out “Hello?” inquisitively to a desolate hallway. I just don’t believe, in the life of a mega movie star, you are ever coming home to an empty house. Surely there would be maids or a cleaner or a freeloader just getting around the place. There seemed to be a constant stream of people getting through the Osborne home in their MTV series. There were always miscellaneous faces that, as a viewer, you could never place their importance or role in the daily life of these celebrities. So how real is Entourage? Does a typical movie star live with several of his buddies the whole time and fucks everything that moves, occasionally working and appearing on talk shows? Does he come home to an empty house at night? Or is life as chaotic, and full of a claustrophobic amount of people like the Osborne’s seem to live with? I have no way of knowing until I am living the life myself. Then I’ll let you know.

I also find it rather amusing that the cast of Entourage were a total fluke. The producers had no intentions of keeping the original cast but kind of got stuck with them. The luckiest thing that ever happened to those guys.

And yes, I am that jealous.