Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, April 5, 1995                   TAG: 9504060011
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

IT'S A GOOD THINK I RARELY STRAYED FROM COP REPORTING

I'm sure that telling all will make me feel better about myself and that you will be kind after you know my secret.

(You ladies who are about to turn to the Jumble to avoid being shocked can relax. This has nothing to do with sex. Well, almost nothing.)

I have always wanted to be one of those writers who interview celebrities, after meeting them in little cafes for lunch. (I hope all my old police reporter friends will forgive me.)

You have to admire what these writers do with the language and with their subjects - despite an obsession with what these people eat. And how.

These writers can become quite lyrical about what the subject is wearing and great literature is often the result:

"Earline Osterbergen was stunning in jeans that defined her shape exotically. She wore a T-shirt that revealed she was bra-less as she drank Norwegian coffee in Le Cafe d' Elite on the Rue Reynard."

It's obvious that I'm never going to be that kind of reporter, so I made up the following to show that I know a thing or two about that kind of writing:

"Jenna Lallapaloosa, full-torsoed, well-endowed and darkly sexy, burst into the Cafe de Corsica like a whirlwind with bangs. Her sensuous lips were parted in anticipation of the lasagna she would have for lunch.

"Seated at a window table, and wearing combat boots, sweatshirt and tight L.L. Bean chinos, Jenna said she doesn't care if many of her fans and most of Hollywood believe she is too heavy. 'So whoosa care whatta these people say, eh?' she said in her charming Neopolitan accent.

"But by the time the lasagna came, the famous liquid eyes were sad. 'Sometimes,' she said, toying with her salad, 'I wisha I wassa back in Napoli. As my people say, you laya downa with the dogsa, you getta up with the fleasa.'

"But then the vulnerability was gone and she destroyed the lasagna in minutes. Shortly afterward, she made a hurricane-like exit from the cafe, ignoring the tomato stains on the front of her sweatshirt. This reporter finished his minestrone and wondered why Jenna was such a sloppy eater."

Tell me if you think I could have been a celebrity reporter.

Or send money.

Or call the cops.