Saturday, January 15, 2011

The price of fame

Man, things have been getting crazy lately. I left the house yesterday and the paparazzi was out there waiting to get their pictures of me getting into my Lamborghini.
Now I know how Princess Di must have felt. I can't even go to the supermarket anymore. Everyone wants an autograph. I don't mind signing paper, but when these women ask me to sign certain body parts, I have to draw the line. Even us bloggers have to maintain a certain sense of decency. After all, we are role models for a whole generation of youngsters.

Then, there are all the supermodels who keep "accidentally" leaving their phone numbers in places where they know I'll find them. Come on, ladies. I'm on to your tricks.
Would you please show some restraint? I suppose I can give you a few moments of my precious time, but not too much. And the mothers holding up their sick babies and asking me to place my hands on them? WTF. I never claimed to be Billy Graham.
I'm just a local social commentator for Christ's sake.

I do appreciate all the free food the restaurant owners have bestowed upon me, not to mention the fancy clothes the fashion designers pay me to wear. Sometimes they ask me to give their restaurant a plug. Others beg me not to be too harsh on them, knowing that my thoughts have dashed more than a few peoples' hopes and dreams.

In any event, a special thanks to those of you who aren't afraid to admit in public that you read my daily diatribes. I hope 2011 doesn't suck for you as much as 2010 did for me. I got a good feeling about this year, though. Call it blogger's intuition.


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