First up, a memorable quote from "Hairspray" teen idol Zac Efron. "Never been waxed," the up-and-coming star allegedly sniped to a Celebrity News Magazine Show.
Weaned - well - maybe.
Of course, the remark was in reference to his trademark thin eyebrows highlightin' his pretty brow.
Personally, I prefer a pair of eyebrows that wander a little on their own - and on the fluffy side - with an occasional wispy strand fluttering here and there nonchalantly.
In response to his meterioric rise in the business, Shia LaBoef made an intriguing comment.
"Right now, I'm living in the WOW," he exclaimed excitedly.
I guess that's his Hollywood "take" on a Buddhist's spiritual teachings about being in the "NOW".
In essence, the message is crystal clear. Savor the moments from which all events flow.
You never know when they'll come back to bite you in the a**.
Congrats to Shia for exhibiting such wisdom at such a tender age.
Shakespeare put it succinctly when he once penned,
"I've never seen such a young body with such an old head."
One trivia question dared the audience to name the only "Oscar" to win the prized Academy Award.
No, not Oscar Meyer.
Although, the Regency does sell a scrumptious hot dog at the bargain basement price of one buck.
When no takers excitedly yelled at the screen, the answer crawled up for everyone to read on their own.
Oscar Hammerstein II.
Now that William Shatner is known for his priceline.com TV ADS - where consumers bid for cut-rates at Nationwide Hotels, he's in the spotlight once again.
He laughingly notes on screen: I'm "into the slasher genre" now.
Ba-dump!
I learned an interesting bit of trivia about William Shatner this past week that was never revealed before, by the way.
The Canadian Actor has never watched one episode of Star Trek!
The reason?
"Too self-conscious," he lamented to a probing interviewer.
He's afraid to catch a glimpse of his Greek form in that spandex uniform, I guess.
Matt Damon philosophized that if you wanted a job done right, you had to do it yourself.
To what was he referring? Diaper duty.
And he managed that nugget of wisdom without one flush in his face.
Right man for the job, for sure.
After all, he cleaned up at the box office with the last hit sequel, "Bourne Ultimatum".
Posh Spice (the soccer stud's wife) labeled herself a "girly girl".
Since Schwarzenegger has dibs on "girly man", I expect Beckham will have to settle for girly girl's man?
From celebrity polls, Beckam is actually a "man's man", I gather.
By the way, one trivia clip touted the fact that Liza Minnelli was the only child to have two parents (Judy Garland and Vincent Minnelli) win Oscars.
I suppose, it's all in the jeans - er - genes, eh? Just ask Calvin!
And, of course, I'd be remiss if I failed to note the staff at the Regency are pretty on-the-ball, too.
The attentive young ushers not only appear to actually be "interested" in the film industry, but bend over backwards to make sure your night of entertainment, is a memorable one.
One of the wildest spirited nights on the town?
Why, it happens to be "Insomniac Cinema" at Fridays @ 12 midnight.
See 'ya there!
While I was channel surfing, I stumbled across an infomercial of Petula Clark belting out "Downtown" and her other hits of yesteryear.
Suddenly, I was transported into the past to the days of my innocent youth.
In the wee hours of the night - I often plugged in the earphones of my tiny transistor radio (shaped like a hockey puck) - and mouthed the lyrics of catchy tunes made popular by the "British Music Invasion" which Petula was a vital part of.
In those childhood years, I resided outside of Oshawa, on a quaint little street known as Kilmaurs Avenue, next to an old country farm.
A smile comes to my face when I recall the clever rig I devised with a cord to facilitate an on-off switch on the beat-up TV so I could savor classic films on late-night TV, without getting caught.
In the event Gramma heard strains of the ongoing dialog on the boob tube in her room down the hall, I simply had to tug on the rope to turn the set off.
By the time the door swung open, I'd be pretending to be fast asleep, as the old gal peered into the bedroom, perplexed.
Heh, given the opportunity, I could have invented the remote control, eh?
On sun-drenched days, in those boisterous days of my lazy youth, I often trotted over to "Happy Hollow" - a swim hole in the local creek - to splash around with the neighborhood kids and wile away the golden hours.
Occasionally, I would take a detour, though - and head over to the sprawling "Little Buckaroo Ranch" - where a miniature-sized western town was inclined to urge tourists to indulge their fantasies during the summer break.
My first kiss was out back in a field where nigh-high reeds gently rustled in the whispering wind next to an old rustic barn.
The object of my affections was a pretty young girl by the name of Pamela who lived a hop-and-a-skip down the lane.
To this day, her crystal face - and luminous eyes - loom large at will.
Across the street, Mrs. Chamberlain - a God-fearing woman - baked bread for the locals to supplement her income.
Gramma would plop a few coins in my hand, and I'd dash across the dusty road to pick up a couple of loaves fresh out of the oven, before she closed up shop for the day.
Back home, we'd pull off the hot crust and slather it with butter and homemade jam - and quite generally - make pigs of ourselves.
What a gluttonous feast, it was.
The Chamberlains were "Seven Day Adventists".
Some of their religious practices were a bit peculiar to me at the time.
For instance, the children were barred from watching TV, of all silly things.
Worse than that - because of their strict ideas views on war - the towheads were not allowed to play with toy guns in make-believe shoot-outs with the other local boys.
Or, even engage in a raucous game of capture the flag. Rats!
Their spiritual practices puzzled me somewhat, too.
For the duration of my stint in the country, I attended a two-room school house farther out in the sticks, at the edge of town.
If the pipes froze up in the winter (which they were want to do more often than not) or the school bus couldn't barrel through the pristine snow drifting across the highway in a wintry blast - we'd play hookey for the day - go tobogganing, ice-skating, whatever!
You know, when you live in the country, you learn a lot about animals, nature, and things that go bump in the night.
For instance, it struck me as odd when the local farmer erected a slip-shod fence around the pond each winter; after all, it didn't appear to make any sense.
But, one fine morning, I cornered the rancher on the back forty - and after some quizzing - he revealed the reasoning behind it.
"Cows are dumb," he laughed.
"When the pond is frozen, they wander on to the ice and quickly lose their balance. Usually, in the struggle, their hoofs go this way 'n that - at which point they fall down - and end up breaking their legs."
Ah, the memories.
One balmy summer eve - as the crickets chirped in harmony and stars twinkled brightly in the inky black sky - I gazed at the heavens wondering what lay beyond in the great wondrous divide.
Suddenly, without warning, the night air was pierced by the voice of Poppa, hailing me for dinner.
Poppa!
Such a kind old man.
One stormy night, we were caught in the thick soup of a nasty snow storm that blew in from the North, unannounced.
At one point, as Poppa steered the old Studebaker carefully through the blinding blizzard, the vehicle started to skid and slide towards a gutter at the side of the treacherous road.
"I'm sorry, kids," he cried out in distress.
That was Poppa, always thinking of others before himself.
Funny, the memories that cling to the inner recesses of our minds, over the dusty course of the eventful years.
Each moment is a treasure - all the salient ones cherished and strung together - to account for a life that is uniquely our own.
