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I have no idea who she is, but her block is right in front of theater.  She must be pretty well connected to not have been displaced by Julia Roberts' tootsies.  Ash starts imagining that there must be some kind of Silver Mafia, where stars that were huge in the 30s and 40s are hiding out in their mansions in Beverly Hills, shaking their withered liver-spotted fists at the impersonal cineplexes of today, lamenting the commercialized studio system, how old-time glamour has been replaced by the impersonal modern day pluck of Meg Ryan.  That must really suck.  If it was me, I wouldn't live here past the age of 50.  Seems like you can get away with being an over-50 actress easier in New York, 'cause you've got Broadway to still do stuff on.  Here you're just sorta…ungracefully replaced. 


Who'd wanna live here when they've outlived their day, anyway?  It's not like they could coast on their past memories.  Their past memories are being bulldozed to make room for the new Oscar theater on the corner of Highland.  Except for Alice Faye.  Whose hands will live on forever in front of the Chinese, apparently.

We keep going, and going, and Ash simply must stop in every single store, though she does give up by the 30th or so.  It's just like Disney World.  They're all selling the same stuff.  A bunch of them sell red carpet premiere candids of various stars, and while they're not the same shots, they're still the same stars.  So instead of buying a Mickey or Donald or Goofy coffee mug, you can buy a postcard picture of Tom, Bruce, or Leo.  Who WANTS these things?  Tourists, of course.  Blegh.  Stupid, stupid tourists.  In order to maintain the bet, Ashley must buy a few.  She chooses a picture of Rhea Pearlman.  WHY is there a picture of Rhea Pearlman?  I just don't get it.