In Hollywood, 30 is old, 40 is over the hill and 50 is rigor mortis.
The 911 Demi Moore overdose call is bouncing around the internet like a laser beam in a cut crystal vase. And the most telling part is how the caller - who identifies herself as a friend -repeatedly dodges the 911 operator's request for Demi's age. The guy becomes so exasperated, he finally says "roughly!" Demi's friend was so, so, so, so , so concerned about revealing what is public knowledge - she's 49. And so what?
Just a few days prior, there was a similar 911 call for Heather Locklear, age 50, who was taken to a hospital after reportedly taking prescription drugs and alcohol.
Both these women are really wealthy. Sick rich. Demi has blown through three marriages. The first was to an unknown singer, the second to Bruce Willis (who can blame her for that?) and most recently, to the cloyingly adolescent, goof-ball chapeau-wearing, Nikon - hustling Tweeter-in-Chief, Ashton Kutcher. Gee, a woman marries a male (note, I did not say man) 16 years her junior and within six short years, he dumps her. What a surprise!
Heather has a similar romantic resume, with a penchant for rockers - first Tommy Lee of Motley Crue and then Richie Sambora of Bon Jovi. Most recently she was engaged to Melrose Place actor and singer Jack Wagner. But it seems that romance has tanked as well.
Here's the rub. Women of their financial stature have legions of servants. Their assistants have assistants. Meanwhile, untold women their age, and younger and older are dumped by spouses, widowed, given bad biopsies - you name it - and they soldier on, working jobs, raising kids, caring for older parents. They don't implode and overdose and cry exhaustion because they just don't have that luxury. Or maybe, since they've not spent their lives being pursued, fawned-over, flattered and catered to, non-celeb women have developed a spine, resiliency and a character asset unknown in Celebland — stoicism.
Here's an idea for a new reality show. How about Cinderella on rewind? Let's grab a few Hiltons, Kardashians, Moores and Locklears and embed them in a world without firewalls — no publicists, maids, chauffeurs, personal shoppers, chefs, agents, managers or bodyguards - in other words, planet earth - and see how they fare. Maybe immersion therapy would be the making of them.
Anybody call into the job lately complaining of "exhaustion?"
Didn't think so.