My sister has been visiting and since I have not seen her in real life in almost a year, we have had a lot to catch up on. Some really, really important stuff, y’all. After all, when this much time has passed between actual visits, you can’t sit around talking about nonsense like nail polish colors and Thanksgiving shopping lists. You have to dive in and get straight to the heart of what is truly on your mind.
In our case, that pretty much means we are talking Hollywood. And watching a ridiculous amount of TiVo. Hey, all eight episodes of Homeland don’t watch themselves in just 24 hours, you know.
We covered everything from how amazing Argo was (if you have not seen it, run straight to the nearest cinema!) to the shocking split of Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman (seriously, if there was EVER a Hollywood couple destined to be together forever, wasn’t it them??!!). Somehow we segued into what it would be like to be famous. And by somehow, I mean I totally steered the conversation that way by talking about Ryan Gosling being the greatest ever and how it is completely on my 2013 goal sheet for him to save my life.
My sister feels like her success as a famous person would be limited. She described how annoyed she would be if she just wanted to say, run into the grocery store for a can of cream of chicken soup, a can of green beans and some fat-free pudding cups (I could write an entire post just on her weird eating habits alone…which we all know would actually make her PERFECT for Hollywood!), and five people stopped her to say how much they loved her. By person five, she said she would become less effusive and much more brush-off. Bad news if person five turned out to have a blog, huh?
I, on the other hand, feel that I would make an awesome famous person. I feel like I would be incredibly gracious and nice and fun, because I know exactly what it is like to love an actor/actress so much that you actually feel like you know them. Like you just totally *know* you were supposed to be real-life BFFs.
Then my sister felt the need to remind me that I don’t really actually like compliments and in fact, have been known to have a difficult time accepting them. She tried to tell me that my current method of deflecting praise could in fact be seen as rude to a potential fan. And obviously, if I was famous, I would never want to come across as anything but fantastic. Let’s just say I once had an encounter with a very famous actress who I used to think I loved and then her behavior really turned me off. Think less “Pretty” and more “Steely” in demeanor and attitude.
So, you know how when you are trying to get over a phobia, the best way to go about it is to immerse yourself fully in the experience. Like, if you are afraid of snakes, then you go spend the weekend at a snake farm draped in more snakes than Cleopatra and voilà at the end of the weekend, you are either cured of your snake phobia or dead.
Obviously, the real answer for me is to become famous. You know, like maybe on a reality show of some kind where they take
an average, suburban mom blogger me and instantly transform her me into a world famous celebrity. Does she crack under the pressure of trying to take the kids to dance while surrounded by paparazzi and adoring fans? Can she hold up on the red carpet at an awards show? When Ellen invites her on to talk about her latest project, does she go all fan girl or keep her cool under pressure and act like this is just a random Tuesday in her life? Who is not watching this potential train wreck smash hit on NBC/CBS/ABC/OWN?!
I could be given my own personal celebrity handler to coach me through the ropes of fame…it would have to be someone like Tori Spelling who could relate to my desire to be a real mom while balancing all the attention that comes from celebrity. We could have all the shots of us chatting like girlfriends, while I cry about how much harder it is than I ever imagined it would be all those years poring over People Magazine in the
pedicure chair grocery store check-out line. How I will never again judge a celebrity for being seemingly rude to a fan, because who knows, maybe they themselves are just having a rough day.
My celebrity handler could totally coach me on posing for photos that make me look skinny, even without the support of SPANX and all about how no matter how dark the restaurant is, it is certainly better to eat in my sunglasses. Who really cares about seeing your food, when we all know I would only be eating the equivalent of a lettuce leaf and a couple ice cubes. Thank God The Beverly Hills Hotel (where I will no doubt be staying) has amazing room service, since we all know this girl cannot live on salad alone!
The season finale could be a sit-down interview with Oprah and the un-“Pretty” actress from my past. I would find out that the night she was so rude to me was one where her little daughter Mabel Moonwish (this is not her daughter’s real name, although in Hollywood it totally could be!) was really sick with a fever. It turns out even the most famous celebrities can’t be “on” all the time. Oh boy, would I feel like I learned something then, right? Wouldn’t the whole audience, really?
And obviously, at the end of it all, I would become completely able to accept praise in a kind and gracious manner. I could do the final “talking head” (Lisa totally taught me this term while watching The Bachelorette) about how now I was ready to teach my daughters all about compliments because I would lead by example from my own experience starring on “So You Think Are Famous and Can Hang With the Stars Because You Have the X-Factor?”.
The name of the show is just a rough idea. Allison Grodner, I am totally open to changing that, of course.
But really, Hollywood, after all the years I have spent supporting you, isn’t it time *you* gave back to me?