I know I’ve joined the fad a little later than some (as my brother keeps reminding me), but I’ve become a huge fan of Entourage, the HBO show about the young Hollywood star and his three homies from New York who are kickin’ it in LA. And while I’ve been enjoying the antics of Vinnie, Drama, Turtle and E – so much so, in fact, that from now on I am going to insist on being known on the streets as ‘D’ – I can’t help asking one thing. Can I join somebody’s entourage already?
And where better to star than Vinnie Chase himself? The show’s star-within-the-show, Adrian Grenier, has been in Sydney to promote it, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity for some Entourage-style star tailgating. Because the way romance works in the show is very simple, and very effective. In essence, Vince is so hot and so famous that he constantly gets action, and his three hangers-on get to enjoy second through fourth dibs. Well, I share both E’s corny sentimentality with the ladies and Johnny Drama’s crippling neuroses, and look kind of like a cross between Drama and Turtle (particularly in terms of dodgy facial hair), so I figured it might work just as well if I hung with the real Adrian Grenier, who is almost as famous offscreen as he is on it.
Unfortunately I haven’t succeeded in casually running into Grenier while I was here. Perhaps he isn’t famous enough to get into the celebrity hangs I now have access to as a blogger for smh.com.au? Pity – if his publicist had gotten in touch with mine, I could have taken him to Jackson’s On George and stuff. It could have been sweet.
(Actually, I don’t have a publicist – I just give them my mum’s number and she passes on the messages. Don’t tell Grenier’s people, though.)
I tick all the boxes when it comes to joining Grenier’s onscreen entourage. Well, except for the lack of street smarts from back when I grew up in Queens. But otherwise, I’m ideal. I’m in my early 30s, spend way too much time playing video games and don’t have a proper job. I don’t seem to be able to form lasting bonds with women, but have lots of close male friends dating back to high school who are my primary support network. What more could any major film star want from a shameless hanger-on?
Vinnie and co always seem to go to the top parties, and although I’m woefully behind on that score, I did somehow get into my old fave De Nom the other day. And apparently Paris Hilton drank there briefly on New Year’s Eve. So I guess that pretty much makes me a Hollywood A-lister.
And that’s not all – like Drama, I once appeared briefly in a television series. Although unlike him, I haven’t managed to claw my way back to the top of the heap. Fingers crossed I run into Eddie Burns, eh?
(Sorry if you haven’t followed that subplot yet, but get with the program, people. And I mean the actual program, which is screening on Foxtel now. It’s hilarious – superagent Ari Gold in particular.)
In short, Entourage is a wonderful warts-and-all portrait of a bunch of man-children, not unlike myself. But although they’re probably a dime a dozen in LA, I’ve found that in Sydney, we man-children seem to be in short supply. And it’s left me painfully short of cats to roll with, frankly. Rather than settling down and taking on adult responsibilities, I want to be jumping into my Lincoln convertible and cruising down Sunset with my peeps, and it just isn’t possible – and not only because I don’t currently have a car.
The vast majority of my male friends are in stable, successful relationships – many are even married nowadays. And sure, they say they’ll hang with me like the old days, but compared to a night of snuggling with their better halves indoors, they always seem to choose the latter. (And to be honest, I don’t blame them.) And the swinging singles like me are left twiddling their thumbs when we could be living the high life. Because it’s important to have a posse when you go out to bars. No one likes sitting by themselves in the corner. But if you travel in a pack, when you can’t manage to meet any interesting women, you can pretend you’re having just as much fun with da boys.
The four of them even live together, generally in some swanky mansion or deluxe condo. Which would be perfect, because I share another of the gang’s little neuroses in that I don’t much like to be alone. I’d even be willing to be the gimp who cooks the breakfasts in return for a setup like that. But I know hardly any thirty-somethings who are living in share houses, other than myself who has a paltry one flatmate. What’s the big rush to grow up in this town, anyway?
Maybe it is a Sydney thing. We like to think we’re party HQ, but I’m not so sure. (Not that I’d recognise party HQ if I saw it, to be fair. And if I did, my name wouldn’t be on the door.) This is a bit of a socially conservative town, where people don’t sleep around like Vinnie and his buddies. It’s not considered cool to have six people on the go at the same time in Sydney, but in NYC and Hollywood, that’s considered restrained.
I like to think that in LA, though, my new showbiz pals and I would be kings of the hill. At least if one of them was a major Hollywood movie star. Still, Heath Ledger is, so it can’t be that hard for some Aussie friend of mine, can it?
But back to my main man. I just Googled Grenier, and it seems he did go to De Nom the other night. I must have just missed him. Apparently he got to know this member of the bar staff. And not just that – it seems he’s still in town. Darn it, Grenier, I so could have rolled with you, dawg. I’d even drive you around like Turtle does, if you get me one of those free Maseratis. Get my digits and call me, okay?