A way you can get really good abs in film is you get your makeup artist to paint shadows – faux washboard. But if you see me in a movie and I have great abs, it means I have a great body double.
Everybody knows that love goes away.
Everyone said that if you want to be a real actor, go to New York. If you want to sell out, go to LA. And I thought – I want to sell out!
I had a problem with cops pulling me over all the time for speeding. When I was doing Hill Street Blues, the cops said how much they loved the show as they were writing me up; meanwhile my insurance went through the roof.
I have my cards read every time I pass a tarot-reader booth. I would be so embarrassed to have one of those 900 numbers appear on my phone bill, because I don’t know how I would explain it to my business manager. It would almost be like saying, ‘Okay, I’m white trash.’
I have to tell you, I’m not like Demi Moore, where the tears trickle prettily down my cheeks. My whole face screws up and it’s like, ‘Oh please, get a room.’
I met my boyfriend, a pro poker player, at a tournament. He tried to dissuade me because it’s a seedy gritty world. Listen, I’ve played till 4 in the morning. I’ve played with a half million dollars on the table.
I still haven’t made a film that defines who I am.
I won $100,000 in Vegas, which buys furniture for my beach house. That takes nerves. You can’t think if I’m wrong I’ll blow $30,000.
I would rather be loved by somebody who respected me.
If I was like some of the characters I played, I’d probably be dead by now.
If you have Julia Roberts in a movie you’re never really afraid for her because you know she’s not going to die.
My mother had all these maxims – like, classy girls never chew gum, never read comic books, never get their ears pierced, never get their hair dyed.
That Hollywood thing, where everybody hugs and kisses everybody else – I always stiffen. It’s an assumed familiarity. It’s phony.