Finally, I have figured out where I have been going wrong.
Now I know why I am not yet rich and famous, why the paparazzi do not swarm my doorstep, why I have to stand in line like ordinary folk, why I am not part of any "It'' circle, clique or cabal.
I am too normal. Who wants to be normal in a country where a new wacko is born every minute and if you can't do magic tricks, like turn $10 million dollars into a box drain, you are nothing and nobody and destined to obscurity forever?
Idiosyncrasies, I have aplenty. But they are usually the result of plain laziness–you think the plaid mixed with floral sprinkled with polka dots is design with an edge? No, it's a style invented because I hate to iron, so whatever is wrinkle free goes on my back. I learned that from Wendy Fitzwilliam when she was a university student–she loved clothes but hated to iron or plan her outfits, so her credo was: whatever you wear, wear with confidence, as if it's made of golden threads.
Still, despite a lot of dedication to the cause of being unique, I just have not crossed over into wackadoo status which is required of all international celebrities. People who grab the headlines and make teenage girls weep hysterically have weird habits, cuckoo guilty pleasures, extra-terrestrial wardrobes and strange deal-breakers on their tour contracts.
Take Rihanna. That chick is hysterical. I don't know who told her what she was wearing for Crop Over celebrations in Barbados was a costume but she was all over the Internet in that beaded string bikini as if she were Queen of the Bands–and then there was a mesh swimsuit with a dead jellyfish on her head that she also seemed to enjoy. Chris Brown was not around so her white-framed dark glasses must have been part of the gear.
But that's the point of being a celebrity. You can wear a banana peel and people would say, "Oh, you look so fab!''
My BFF Beyonce just sent me pictures of her new look–she has cut off all her hair to reveal a short pixie blonde do.
Errr, I don't know how to tell you this, Bey, but the gamine look is already Halle Berry's signature. But if the Queen of Pop wants to shed her hair image, so be it. Do not try this new look at home.
Mary J Blige, who already has the blonde market cornered, fulfills her celebrity requirement of strangeness by demanding a new toilet seat in her dressing room when she is on tour–and her team has to inspect it and make sure it is still in the plastic wrapping.
Then there is Johnny Depp. Know what his guilty pleasure is? Watching reality TV child star Honey Boo Boo. Yes, the same six-year-old beauty pageant veteran who once caused Ken and Barbie to fornicate on American television during a talk show. Depp says he is a little bit frightened of Honey Boo Boo but can't stop watching. Eeeewwww!
Even normal-ish Kate Middleton has some less-than-cute habits. She keeps up with the Kardashians! Who are probably keeping up with her because Kim sent the Duchess a maternity gift and calls herself a fan of the new royal mum. Can you just picture Kate and Kim sharing fashion tips and comparing notes on designer diapers? Double eeeewwww!
Well, it's time to shake off all this ordinariness that has dominated by un-famous life. First, I go blonde. Then, I get my own portable toilet seat, followed by the purchase of the same expensive skin creams made from sturgeon eggs which Angelina Jolie swears by. Tomorrow, I change the spelling of my name from blah Elsa to Ahylsah, and then I shall top things off with a run for political office.
If that does not get me the strangeness I deserve and rocket me to stardom, nothing will. Vote for Ahylsah. She'll re-decorate every box drain in your neighbourhood.
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