Born in Paris on October 22, 1943, Catherine Deneuve is a renowned figure in French cinema. It made sense for her to follow in her parents’ footsteps, given both of them are actors.
Her big break came when she played Geneviève Emery in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in 1964, captivating viewers. She exhibited an amazing ability to strike a balance between strength and tenderness in this performance.
Over the course of her storied career, Deneuve has worked with renowned directors such as Luis Buñuel on Belle de Jour and Roman Polanski on Repulsion, where her portrayal of Séverine achieved legendary status.
Over her sixty-year career, she has won two César Awards for Best Actress: for Le Dernier Métro in 1980 and for Indochine in 1992, which won an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.
Deneuve is still making a name for herself in the movie business, even at her advanced age. Notable performances include The Truth (2019). She is well-known for her support of women’s rights and freedom of expression in addition to her acting career.
My neighbor pelted my car with eggs because he claimed it obstructed the view of his Halloween decorations
When sleep-deprived mom Genevieve discovers her car covered in eggs, she thinks it’s a prank — until her smug neighbor Brad admits he did it because her car was ruining the view of his elaborate Halloween display. Furious but too exhausted to argue, Genevieve vows to teach him a lesson.
I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.
My days had become a blur since the twins were born.
Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.
I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.
Then there was Brad.
The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.
And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.
His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.
It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.
I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.
I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.
At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.
This had Brad written all over it.
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