How To Be Famous
Don’t get hugged a lot as a child. Be neglected by a mother who needs her “juice” and her “vitamins” to make it through the day. Spend a lot of time in your room listening to Journey and chanting to yourself, “When I’m famous, when I’m famous….”
Know someone important. Have sex with someone important. I could almost end this how-to here but I’m not going to. Something I’ve realized very recently is that I know “no one.” I know no one even though I have a great group of friends and am surrounded by a wonderful amount of love and support. How is it possible that I still don’t know a single soul? It’s because my close friends are all happy and healthy and have normal jobs like Kindergarten Teacher and Illustrator. Little did I know I was supposed to be seeking out friendships with nightcrawler nightmares. Curses! So here’s how you can avoid the mistake I made. Go to a party and try to find the meanest looking person there. They’ll be on their Blackberry constantly, have a terrible personality, a vague job title, and be surrounded by a large group of people who are clamoring for their attention. Ta-daw! You’ve found someone super famous and important! Now go up to them and say something sort of bitchy or just offer them cocaine. You’ll be in their inner circle immediately!
Accompany them to important events and make sure to get photographed by the paparazzi. Pretend you’re being a good friend by shielding her from the photographers when in reality, you’re just trying to get in the picture. Say things like, “How dare you? Leave my friend alone!” as you’re shoving them out of the frame. Eventually your famous friend will catch on and dump you outside of a club on Sunset Boulevard. TMZ will film the whole thing. (Thank God!)
Sell your story to Us Weekly for $3,000 and a gift card to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Land on the cover with a photo of you looking remorseful in a bikini with a headline that reads, “Our Friendship Was Destroyed By Her Drug Abuse!” In the interview, use words like “downward spiral” and talk about a night in which your famous friend had sex with a bartender in the broom closet of a swanky hotel. “She’s out of control! We’ve all tried to get her help and she won’t listen!”
Your famous friend will send you death threats when the story breaks but you’ll just be like “Byeeeee” as you eat you $40.00 salad at The Ivy with a porn producer. To capitalize on the media attention, decide to make a sex tape with Verne Troyer. Don’t be scared. I know it seems like everyone watching you have sex with a little person could kill your career but this is 2011. The only way to kill your career is to NOT have sex with Mini-Me. Release the tape and call it “Mini- Inside-Me” and watch as the endorsements roll in. Think to yourself, “Wow! America is pretty screwed up!” as you’re cashing those checks. Three years later, you’ll be getting paid $2,000 to tweet “I love this self-tanner! Works like a dream. Order it here!” As the ultimate irony, you’ll start to be embraced by high fashion designers and become the face of Chanel for a sec. Karl Lagerfeld will think, “It’s funny because she had sex with a midget and now she’s selling couture. Genius!”
Become what you’ve always dreamed of. Hide behind an ice sculpture at a party when you see Verne Troyer.
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They say laughter is the best medicine, and six months ago I found myself highly medicated, that is, I remembered how to laugh.
If we are not happy now with ourselves and what we are doing then what the hell makes us think that we will be happy or satisfied later?
I remember the grass tickling my bare legs and the stains on your shirt, and you smirking at my excitement before your tongue swirled pralines and cream into my mouth.
Second semester: I wonder how much coffee it would take to kill someone?