This is one celebrity relationship that I thought would last. Sarah Jessica (Square Pegs) Parker and Matthew (Bueller?) Broderick.
I know they’ve moved beyond those roles, but I do love overdosing on the nostalgia of the early days.
Ok, so beyond the fact that I’ve been told several times that I look like SJP. (Makes me curious as to where I’d fall on the continuum of that Maxim Bag-Your-Face List…)
But, since I’m not famous enough yet to know, it also makes me wonder if it’s difficult to balance the public perception of who you are with your true self. And how does that affect your spouse?
What is it really like in the Parker/Broderick household? Is she witty, neurotic, and decked in quirky designer outfits? Or behind the scenes, is SJP like me: all ponytail, flannel pjs, barefoot, and boring?
I think when my hubby first saw me—in a thong, 8-inch platform stilettos, and shaking my ass to “Perfect Gentleman” by Wyclef Jean—he might have thought he was getting a perpetual stripper as a wife. Um… Surprise. Now, I’m all about elastic waistbands and occasional showers. Lucky man. I have no idea why he loves me as much as he does…
But what’s up with Matthew? At 46, is he hitting the mid-life skids? Is it Corvette, chest hair, and gold medallion time? First of all, what self-respecting man can tolerate being called “Matty Cakes” by a drunk and ditzy red-headed youth counselor who passes out in her panties on a bed in someone else’s apartment? Claaaaassy. Matty Cakes, you sure know how to pick ’em. That mindless infidelity sets a great example for your son, little James Wilkie. Sad Matt. Very sad. And totally disrespectful to your wife.
Gavel slammin’ time: I sentence you to 50 upside-the-head whacks with a rolled up National Enquirer.
Maybe I should send Sarah a copy of my memoir, The Break-Up Diet. There’s a great recipe for her on page 134. Ingredients: 1 self-absorbed prick and…
The Break-Up Diet 