I know I've come clean about not being a celebrity, but I can't help myself. I long for the spotlight. I want everyone to think about me all the time. I, I, I, I, I.
So far this week, I have made the following efforts to increase my celebrity factor:
- Started a rumour about my relationship with a male former co-worker, hoping to gain Hilton-level fame. ("Glen and I are no longer friends. He knows why.") Result: Nobody believed me. One person asked who Paris Hilton is.
- Ordered a mocha, no whip, extra foam, and drank it in a coffee shop near the window, hoping to end up in a Stars: They're Just Like Us! photo spread. Result: There were no cameras anywhere in sight. I was recognised, but Amy is not a member of the paparazzi, as far as I know.
- Flashed my appendectomy scar, hoping to cash in on the trend Britney Spears set (I don't have a C-section scar). Result: Part of my abdomen is frostbitten. Nobody noticed: they were all hurrying to get out of the cold.
- Allowed myself to be seen in public with a variety of lawyers, hoping to start a rumour that I had been arrested like Nicole Richie. Result: People assumed that I was working.
- Did not drink any alcohol, hoping that my sobriety would be noticed and commented on, leading to comparisons with Lindsay Lohan. Result: Nobody noticed: they were all drunk.