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Merry Christmas!



Bruce Wilis & Diane Parsons

Welcome to our mini-Christmas Edition and Greetings to All. Two major themes have been running around in my mind this month and, if you'd care at all to become familiar, allow me to elucidate.

Firstly, I've been thinking of ways to use my role as editor of this intelligent and classy e-zine to my advantage. I have felt the tantalizing nip of power. It's my word or the technological highway so to speak. Secondly, in lane two and owing to the time of year, I have been pondering what I want. Like many people who celebrate the commercial aspects of the coming season, I've been thinking about presents.

It is no great stretch that with these two prominent thoughts jogging around the oval track of my mind that they should eventually stumble over one and other. Do you see what I'm getting at? I have lighted upon a wish and I have some power to obtain it.

So, here it is. I want to meet all those really big stars that everyone clamours to see when a movie shoot comes to town. I'm tired of reading in the paper that Arnold Schwartznegger visited my local Bunsmaster and I don't want to hear any more stories about running into Sean Connery at the deli. I don't want to have to wait in the rain to spot someone famous. I want them to come to me. I want big stars to drop by my place on Christmas day with a platter of mini sausage rolls for us to share.

While I often read about trashy public mobs stalking Hollywood stars, I have always felt myself above resorting to such lengths. I fantasize that if I meet Bruce Willis at the mini mart I will smile sweetly and point out that the root beer slushies are particularly good today.

I remember being in Halifax (for those of you south of the border - that's in Canada - you know the country that's loosely related to Queen Elizabeth - not that I'm name dropping or anything) when Sylvester Stallone was visiting. He was staying on his boat and some people used telescopes and zoom lens cameras to spy on him having lunch in the cockpit. Pathetic, I thought. If only poor Sly could come visit us for a real lunch with real people, he would be charmed out of his muscle shirt and Nike shorts with the red stripe on the side (not that I looked at any of the pictures those nosy reporters took!).

Let's get to the bottom line shall we. What I want is to be able to say, in January, when I go back to the office, "Oh that was such a fine holiday, yes. I particularly enjoyed the visit from Kevin Spacey. His canapés were lovely. Too bad he couldn't stay for the evening when Meryl and Demi dropped by. They certainly agreed with me about Dustin's new movie but we had to stop talking about that when he arrived."

So, if any big stars out there are of the mind to grant this poor editor's wish for Christmas, please contact me through The Bean Scoop. I don't want to hear from anyone but really big stars - people who everyone knows. I don't want to be stuck at the water cooler having to explain who you are.

Let me know and I'll put on an extra pot of coffee.

Diane
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