OK, not quite.
Recently I wrote that I thought I should have a reality show. It seems like I’m the only one who doesn’t. I’ve also come to lament the fact that I’m not a celebrity. Everyone is a celebrity, farking everyone.
Really, if these losers can get invited to the White House Correspondent annual gala, what does that tell you about the state of Western civilization? It used to be that you had to at least do something to be famous, even if it really wasn’t much. Have a singing career, or a role in a movie, then maybe they’d talk about you on Page Six. At least sleep with someone famous, you know, like Marla Maples. Nowadays they’ll chase anyone around with a camera, won’t they?
I finally decided I had had it when I read this. I’m tired of being a nobody when I should be a somebody. I’m going to make myself famous. I can do nothing just as well as the next guy, right?
I already have a couple of people in my entourage. My friend Kris has agreed to hold my umbrella for me and her boyfriend is going to be my bodyguard. I put up an ad on Craigslist for a publicist and I’m looking into putting up a post on Wikipedia. I’ve already started an internet rumor about me and Orlando (which of course I’ll deny).
The hardest part is going to the self-hatred. I’m going to have to get in touch with that. But that’s why God made antidepressents, right? Also, I’ll have to be showing up at all the New York hotspots. Celebrities have to do that kind of stuff, but I’m far too lazy. I think I’ll try to convince the world that Staten Island is hip and edgy. At least if people start hanging out here I can be home at a reasonable hour.
If you guys have any ideas that I haven’t thought of please let me know. I’ll be taking applications for my entourage shortly. Oh, and if anyone asks why I’m famous tell them I’m an “internet personality.” OK?