Is Madonna as horrible a person as you think she is? Listen to what Tim Ransom has to say about his onetime friend and "Desperately Seeking Susan" costar. Tim had a bit part in the film as the bellhop in Atlantic City who delivers Susan her breakfast -- including a newspaper and tequila -- which earns him a tip that was as big as her flirting. "Don't spend it all in one place," Susan cautions, as she slips the money in his coat pocket. (He won't.) It seems Tim and Madonna were buddy-buddy back in the day -- according to publicist Reid Rosefelt, Madonna "adored" Tim -- but after Reid blogged a heartwarming story about his work on the "Desperately Seeking Susan" movie poster with Herb Ritts, Tim posted the following in the comments section. I could almost feel
my his heart break as I read it:
Ah yes indeed, this brings back the memories. I was cuh-razy for the girl when all this was happening. Followed her around like a puppy on set. Such a shame she turned in to such an awful person.
If it's any consolation Reid, you aren't alone in getting the diss from her. About 10+ years ago, I was invited to spend Christmas Eve at a small gathering at a mutual friends place and she was going to be there. I was truly looking forward to seeing her again as she was always playful on DSS and we had a fun relationship. Having done her first-ever screen test with her, etc. I never imagined she'd pull the 'I don't remember you' routine, but that is exactly what she did, sitting less than 3 feet from me. Completely flummoxed, I tried (pathetically) to remind her that we did her screen-test together, that we had a small scene in the movie, etc., at which point she looked me square in the eye and repeated, VERY pointedly, "I. Don't. Remember. You."
This was the woman who stuck her tongue at me from the stage at Madison Square Garden; the woman whose voice-mail to me I saved for YEARS cause it was so deliciously flirtatious; the woman whom I still have a photo of me giving her a foot-rub on set (which I was on every friggin' day of the shoot) that was now telling me I didn't exist in her memory. It was infuriating as she was so clearly making a conscious choice to not even engage in the conversation. Narcissism paired with a lack of grace running that deep is pretty mind-blowing to witness, especially when directed so personally at you.
It sucked to have fond memories of her and that time poisoned by that night, but what are you gonna do? Suffice it to say that a few years ago when I re-discovered in storage the signed 'Like A Virgin' poster she gave us all on that last day of shooting ("you can be my second husband after therapy" was one of the things she wrote), with great pleasure I listed it on eBay. The tidy sum I received for it went to underwrite a new flat-screen TV that I am enjoying to this very day. Perhaps a little short-sighted of me, but it felt very good to be rid of it and I will never, ever regret getting it out of my home.
Of course she is. No further questions.