Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Show Biz Eating Habits Revealed!

Here's another juicy tidbit from Ms. Gomes' show, which just ended a sold-out three night run at the Sioux City Community Airport Inn & Suites & Suds. Check back soon for more! Enjoy!

"One thing that few people know about me is that I’ve never eaten a vegetable. Not one. Not ever. While some hotheaded “doctors” may raise their eyebrows and say that this is the cause of my several cases of gout, or my Polack’s Knee, or my five month tryst with Transcendentalism, I say pish to them. I’m a renowned superstar, I don’t have to eat green beans if I don’t want to. Geoffrey is always telling me that I should at least nibble on some lettuce, to which I say “Who do I look like? Shelly Duvall? I’m no rabbit.” Well, now that I’ve shared this little tidbit about my eating habits, I thought I’d tell you about the habits of some of my dearest celebrity friends.

Eva Gabor, sister to slapping sensation ZsaZsa Gabor, wouldn’t eat anything that was prepared by a person under five foot six inches. She had been terrified of little people ever since she witnessed a druken dwarf devour the right hind leg of her family dog, Zachary Taylor. Speaking of dogs, Geoffrey’s Basset hound/Lhasa Apso mix Ethel Steinberg only eats dog biscuits in the shape of Mamie Eisenhower’s head.

There was one time about twenty years ago, or maybe it was yesterday, when I was having lunch at the Ivy with French figure skater Suriya Bonaly and the grand duke of comedy, Dr. Ed McMahon, Esq. Now Ed always orders the same thing, a Cobb Salad, hold the salad, with a side of Cuttysark. I always have a lamb steak and a dirty martini bowl. Suriya ordered the crab cakes. It was really a lovely meal. When she finished, though, Suriya had to rush off for some sort of practice, so Ed and I were left alone to have an after lunch drink. Well, by about the third martini bowl, Ed was looking more dashing than Don Knotts singing at Carnegie Hall (which happened once and only once. God bless the Tokyo Philharmonic.)

Ed had the idea that we order a little dessert, have one more drink, and then go pull some pranks on Dick Clark. Dick and Ed have secretly hated each other ever since Dick, at the height of his hashish use, called Ed a “walking blooper” and slept with all three of Ed’s wives (I’m talking about you too, Pia.) This feat, while pretty amazing considering Dick was 98 years old at the time, was the final nail in the friendship’s coffin, which had been rocky ever since Dick pantsed Ed at the Peabody awards in ’72.

Now Ed and I both knew that the best way to really stick it to Dick would be to somehow interfere with his nightly Chinese food delivery (three wontons, two fortune cookies, and three pounds of shrimp lo mein). I had the idea that we pants Suriya Bonaly, but Ed failed to see how that would really zing Dick. Instead he chose to beat the delivery man over the head with a giant check he had in the back seat of his car and, when Dick opened to door, yell “Hey Dickie, looks like there’s a dead Chinaman on your lawn.” (For legal reasons I do have to state that this anecdote was not in any way the inspiration for my 1983 recording, “Hey Linda Ronstadt, I Think You Killed that Hindi Couple.”)

Now Dick, burdened by his one hundred and three years, wasn’t entirely clued into what was going on, so it’s my understanding that he ate the delivery man and tipped the three pounds of shrimp lo mein four dollars.

Isn’t it wild what celebrities eat?

Lucille Ball used to eat cigarette butts she found outside the studio and sneak down to the garbage dump to eat old cans like a common goat. And Desi Arnez? Forget about it. Let’s just say he never met a house cat he didn’t like. Or eat.

Yes, it seems that you really are what you eat in showbiz, although if that’s the case I’m not quite sure why Rosemary Clooney never turned into a giant pack of Sara Lee honey ham. I was discussing this very same issue with my friend, accompanist, and six time ex husband Jimmy Tunes and he turned to me and said “Who knows, Crystal baby, I mean you never saw her without that dress on.”

Of course I couldn’t tell him that he was wrong; that’s a long dark story that only ends with Danny Kaye’s second suicide attempt.

All of this just goes to show that I don’t need to eat vegetables to be a superstar. If anything the vegetables should eat me to become superstars. Which is a horrifying thought. That’s why I pushed Geoffrey down a flight of stairs when I saw him coming up to my apartment with a bag of salad (it’s not, as he claims, because in a drunken stupor I mistook him for Mindy Cohn coming to collect on an old debt.)

Now if you’ll excuse me, one of my stylists is coming over to wrap my turban. I have to look good for court, you know. Someone’s got to convince that jury that Dick Clark isn’t a cannibal…on purpose. "
(C) 2006 Gomes Group Inc.

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