I have long been fascinated with becoming a celebrity. It wasn’t quite the same when I was a child as it is now, but I wanted to be a member of the rock band Kiss. I would put on concerts in my bedroom singing all their songs using my hairbrush as a microphone.
Apparently my mother thought this was sort of cute so one Christmas she bought me a Kiss outfit. Basically, a black and white striped polo shirt with the Kiss logo on the chest, jeans with a Kiss patch sewn onto the back pockets and a matching belt. Yes, I was a bad ass.
This obsession with rock bands continued as I grew older, but everything changed when my grandfather sent me a set of drums when I turned eight. My poor parents then had to pay $.25 to come to my drum show in the playroom. My favorite song to play along with was James Taylor’s “Handy Man”. Yea, I was killing it with the mellow crowd (this was truly a step up from the Barry Manilow that was playing constantly in our house).
Music was my obsession. My goal was to play on a stage someday with a band. I still love music very much, but my celebrity goal changes more and more as I get older.
Leaving my house is just something I don’t like to do anymore. My middle name is “Hermit”. The thought of spending hours on a tour bus with a bunch of wild men just doesn’t do it for me anymore. The parties, drugs and drinking would probably kill me at my age. My drug of choice these days is “Aleve”.
The only way adventuring out on a tour bus would be acceptable would be if I had a bus of my own and I could go to the Grand Canyon or something. Screw performing on a stage under all those hot lights. I freaking hate to sweat now. Gross.
So I am moving in the direction of being a famous writer. No bus, I can work from home in my pajamas and the most leaving my house I will ever have to do would be for a book tour, which is right up my alley. Hundreds of people lined up for me to autograph their books and pose for a photo sounds pretty cool, as long as they put me up in a swanky hotel.
The Holiday Inn Express is not going to cut it, people. I am talking a baby grand piano in my room (no, I don’t play piano but maybe I will hire someone to play for me all night long), ocean view (for the places I have to go that will not have an ocean (God forbid) there better be a river, stream, lake or a damn drainage ditch under my window) and someone to fetch me milk and cookies, then tuck me in. A kiss on the forehead would be okay as long as the person is majorly attractive.
The one worry I really have about this whole writer thing is when one of my books is actually made into a movie and I must attend a red carpet event. I do not wear dresses. Ever. So if they really wanted me to attend, then I would have to go ultra casual and comfy. I would leave my pajamas at home, but I might be able to get away with wearing those pajama jeans. Put a nice shirt with those things and no one would ever know the difference.
I hope to see you all real soon out in the book signing lines. I suppose that means there will be a book published, but that isn’t a problem. I am positive I can whip out a bestseller in 2-3 days tops. I mean if Tila Tequila, Paris Hilton and Snooki can write a book, then this will be a breeze.