I went to Target the other day, which proves that even very famous bloggers like me expect more and pay less but sometimes I would just like to save money and live better. It’s pretty confusing.
So anyway I was sauntering down the aisle when someone – a really nice girl – whom I haven’t seen for years called out my name, which is Brian, and said “Brian.” I said “Harriet.” She said ” I love your stuff I read it all the time.” I couldn’t believe it. Someone recognized me and commented on my work in a really positive way. That was wonderful and really special and it was Monday a usually not great day to be world famous blogger with over 15 comments.
I thought about Harriet a lot that night so Tuesday I developed a really a bad drug habit, and then had sex with 16 women who had twittered me. I beat up my son and then fell down the stairs. Today at sex rehabilitation therapy I had a break through and realized what had happened. It just became a burden for me: the people recognizing me in Target, The Twitter Girls Twittering, the Texting Girls texting, the easy highway to scoring free drugs, the two Escalades that ran out of gas, the estate, my elephant, and and my son asking me for a ride to the hospital for his Kidney transplant. It just, like, really started to suck really fast. I mean I can give just so much. Really.
Being a celebrity is just way to hard. The common, not celebrity, people who admire us just put way to much strain on us and live their lives through us. I wish they could just stop being so selfish and think about others just a little. I just broke under that strain. I’m not bitter towards Harriet and the poor people like her who admire us really famous people. I am now going to be careful about talking to any non-celebrity. I really just have to worry about myself now.
So, now that I’m sober and down to having sex with just 6 or 7 women a day I do appreciate the little people but just won’t talk to them. It will be good for all of us. I have to protect myself and my sobriety. I’m even going to send that Sudanese kid who I bought the Kidney from (it was cheaper than the Russian Kidneys and not so overdone) some McFlurry Certificates.
Well back to sober living. I’ve been that way for a day now and if you see me in Target don’t talk to me. Not to be bitter but I do, with all rights, blame the public for my downfall. It’s real cool though that the American Public will probably make more of a star, after my comeback, than I am now and I can become even more removed from real life. I think that would be good to be removed but stay in touch through a phalanx of yes men/women and weak willed toadies who will do stuff for me no matter how much trouble they get in for enabling me. But I am sober now.
See you Harriet you can talk to me through the giant wall of flesh that are the three Methamphetamine addicted body guards I now have to protect me from nice people like you.
I think I’ll go out to the desert and look for arrowheads. It’s great to be sober. I’ll have to have my assistant write to my son. I think he’s out of the coma. I’ll have her send him a McFlurry.