Nasty

I just read a book called Nasty by Simon Doonan about his long search to befriend the Beautiful People he saw in magazines and realized the real Beautiful People aren't the rich and famous who lack a sense of humor, but his wacky family and friends. How very Wizard of Oz, as he puts. It is a good book. I was under the impression more rich and famous people would be mentioned, but no, only a vague description of celebrities he met at parties. Though he did say he lived next to Nicholas Cage before he was a star, but that is all he says about him. Oh well, it is fun to read about wacky people.

I had brushes with celebrity when a pyschopath who thought we should be a couple and I disagreed ran a kid over with a pick up truck and the trial of the century began, thus I was catapulted into the media spotlight from being his bullied victim. Every talk show host was calling my house promising everything under the sun and any favorite celebrity I liked to meet, if I would just do an interview. I could not handle repeating the trauma the psychopath inflicted with a camera in my face without having a breakdown. How the celebrities and I became friends I am unsure of, they just kept calling me to see how I was doing after the limelight disappeared and everything went back to normal. All I can say with these brushes of celebrity is that they are guarded like Ft Knox, meaning emotional walls to keep gold diggers at a distance. I asked one friend if she ever stops being the public figure with perfect manners, perfect smile, perfect wardrobe, perfect witty remarks to intrusive questions, and just be herself. That broke down a layer off her emotional wall.

Then I had to deal with their "people" who don't like noncelebrities sending non-name brand Christmas presents or calling with the exspectation of directly speaking to said celebrity. I got hit with "She does not wear Target, she wears Gucci" note with my scarf sent back to me via her manager. After a talk on why I didn't send the promised Christmas gift, I sent her the scarf again and saw it around her coat in a magazine picture. I was touched. As for the phone calls. After talking to one secretary for 20 minutes, I heard a friend yell, "Why didn't tell me she was on the phone!" and my phone calls were put through and messages delivered. Next my phone number got blocked when the celebrities nervously gave me their home phone numbers and college roommates repeatedly called the discovered numbers they found while snooping through my things. I learned to give nicknames when I conversed about them to other people so eavesdroppers wouldn't know whom I was talking about.

When first we meet, there was tons of glitter and fascination on how difficult their lives are from mine. Then the glitter faded and I began to see them as real people like me, except few people around them had the courage to tell them the truth. I had a challenge of teaching them to trust and forgive, things they learned not to do to protect themselves from getting betrayed by gold diggers. I no longer hear from those celebrities. Too much stress waiting for their phone calls and dealing with their people. I let them go. I wonder if they ever think of me. I think of them all the time and hope they are happy. Post later. Bye!