Not to get all possessive, but Tina Fey is mine. No, seriously. Mine. Sure, I share her with the world. Yes, yes – there is her husband and her daughter and her millions of adoring fans. But in my heart of hearts, she exists in my own private universe. I can’t help but feel somewhat proprietorial about her. That sounds creepy. That is creepy. Sometimes I’m a little creepy.
Regardless, you should all be impressed by my big bigheartedness today in sharing her with you all. These gorgeous shots are from the November issue of Harper’s Bazaar. A new Tina Fey cover story is always a reason to rejoice.
And this photo shoot is just, well – look, pretty!
But just as great as the pictures in any Tina Fey cover story is the story itself. Tina gives great copy. Every time she talks I admire and respect and adore and, yes, lust after her more. This interview is no exception.
“You can point any kind of laser at my face, but I don’t think Botox is for me. I think it is bad. People who have too much, they look like their faces are full of candles — a shiny, shiny face.” Festive, though. “Yes, festive. A holiday candle.”
“You will still die. I’ll do grave yoga. Someone can come and stretch me in my grave…That is why L.A. is so bad, because they can take your picture from any side. That is why people in L.A. maintain 360-degree fitness. I don’t have that kind of time.”
On her iconic glasses:
“I don’t wear them very much in real life because I need them to see only far away. And I don’t wear them when I am dressed up, because then I would look like Tootsie.”
On her book:
“It’s full of incredibly angry ranting. Actually, it’s recipes, photographs of doors. And then, more recipes.”
Oh my God, I would kill for a Tina Fey book of recipes. Or photographs of doors. Really, I’ll buy anything Tina is selling. Anytime. Anywhere. Any-damn-thing. See what I was saying? Creepy.
p.s. I am somewhat less creepy about my excitement at the return of “30 Rock” in a week. It’s been a long, dry, Tina-less summer. Finally, Tina will be back in my living room every Thursday night where she belongs. OK, maybe I’m still a little creepy.