fredantes

Just got back from the French film festival announcement party, which was held at the house of the French consul in Beverly Hills. Had too much champagne, cigarettes and pastries -- they were so good. It's been years that I go to the consul's house and he still looks at me as if I was there to clean the swimming pool or steal the stereo - he's the only one who doesn't know who I am and won't come to talk to me, which I find pretty amusing - of course it has to do with my "hair cut" and earrings. There was also a well-known writer from Variety who doesn't like me since I pissed him off at the LA film festival last year. The festival looks pretty good this year and I'll probably invite some lucky people I just made a mojto, which will help me digest all these pastries and champagne.
Fin du Journal