I'm in the process of cleaning up this blog a little. And, while thinking it through, I must apologize. In Memoir Munchies [the blog] there are a whole lot of munchies but very little memoirs. I'm so sorry for that. It's not that I don't have some fun stories to share...I meet interesting people quite regularly, as I'm sure you do, too...but food is just much easier to post up here, especially when I've just devoured a slice of cake and am brushing the crumbs off the keyboard. How could I forget to blog about that cake?
But stories are just as wonderful, and stories--like food--are incredible ways that we can come together as human people and share in tales about life. Some memoirs are personal, while others are someone else's stories. I imagine we'll share joy, sadness, surprise, fear, suspense, and excitement together through these special bits of life.
Let's start with a very short 2 bits. One is my story and one is Mr. Steve Wynn's. And they are embarrassing.
I was 10 and it was "dress as your book report" day. My selection was a short biography of a real-life ballerina. She was the definition of beauty and grace as her story of injuries and oppression as a young orphan in Russia showed the insurmountable odds she faced to reach her dreams. She was known for wearing pink and purple leotards, and I was enamored with her.
On the day to "present" our book reports, in costume and in character, I was ready. My mom had packed a cute pink leotard, tights, ballet shoes, and even a purple sequined tutu from my past pursuit of being a ballerina in kindergarten. I was ecstatic as the kids from the other classes all piled into our classroom to see our presentations. I changed in the book closet quickly, with no mirror. No mirror.
When I heard my name called, I made an appearance, fluttering and jumping around like the beautiful ballering on the cover of my storybook. And then I heard giggling. Inappropriately loud giggling. I started my presentation and told her story, but couldn't stay focused because of the pointing and staring. I looked down and around and was horrified--my bright pink and orange flowered underwear was peaking through my sheer pink leotard. The tutu couldn't hide it either. I was exposed...a fake ballerina-wannabe with crazy underwear. I bolted for the closet, changed clothes, and sobbed. I was mortified...not just about the wardrobe malfunction, but because I didn't do that ballerina's story justice...and my performance was a mockery.
Turns out, people eventually forgot about it. My crush said, "Don't worry about it, Laurel. It wasn't THAT funny." He meant well, but he was 10. And that was the beginning and end of my fake career as a ballerina. Ballet makes your feet ugly anyway.
|What. a. facelift.|
Now for someone else's embarrassing moment...billionaire casino mogul Steve Wynn.
As many know, Wynn is a big-time art collector. He purchased Le Reve (Picasso) for over $48 million back in 1997. In 2006, he was going to sell it to Steven Cohen for about $139 million, which would've been a record! It would be the highest price paid for any piece of art, ever. But...something happened...
Wynn was showing off the piece to a few friends (Nora Ephron and her hubby, Barbara Wawa! and some other bigwigs), and he must've gotten so distracted by Tatiana Sorokko, the supermodel. So distracted that his elbow punched a HOLE into the Picasso.
Needless to say, Steven Cohen cancelled the sale and Wynn was left with a hole-y Picasso. Some critics might argue that it beautified the Picasso. So, after a bargain $90,000 repair, the painting's value decreased to a measly $85 million. Poor little poor Steve-O. Then he sued his insurance company for estimating the painting so low. They settled out of court. I think Mr. Wynn was just licking his wounds after publicly defacing a Picasso in front of Ms. 20/20. Wouldn't you be mortified, too?
|From Art Knowledge News magazine|
So there you have it, the first installment of our memoirs...have one to share? Please do! And remember, we all goof up here and there.
Happy eating and reading!