Monday, December 03, 2007 Baumgart: Rise to stardom By Elisabeth Baumgart inkblots
WHILE eating soggy cereals and watching television one bleary Saturday morning, you come to a ground-breaking realization: you want to become a pop star.
You wish to be on billboards, on the silver screen, on television, in tabloids and magazines. You wish to see your face on cereal boxes and in ridiculous detergent commercials. You, my dear friend, wish to become a famous pop icon.
So you begin your perilous journey to stardom.
You realize that one of the easiest ways to getting there is through singing. Apparently in this century, talented vocal chords are no longer needed. As annoyingly nasal your voice may be, it does not matter, as long as your breasts are the size of dinner plates then everything should be fine.
Breasts do the singing these days anyway.
And if you are a guy with no vocal talent whatsoever, then it is even easier. If you look incredibly drop-dead gorgeous while running in muck, then by all means, you shall be famous. Of course, no need for flashing private parts, chiseled chests and sweat will do.
Upon successful penetration into show business, you soon realize that you are ugly. Apparently your natural beauty is not enough–the public wants fake boobs, fake lips, fake noses, fake hair–they want to see plastic in your system and they want to see it now!
So, you allow yourself to get butchered.
A doctor sucks off whatever fat is left on your scrawny body. He removes a couple of ribs, since you obviously don’t need them. He raises your nose as if it were a tent and puts fat in your rear end. You receive in-flated balloons as your new set of breasts.
Your stardom soars. The new you brings about record sales and you become filthy rich. You begin to say “That’s hot!” in every other sentence.
You begin to date big time actors. You see yourself in tabloids and on gossip TV. And you love every minute of it.
Though you have no acting talent whatsoever, you begin to get the lead roles for movies and TV series. Your acting is horrible but the public still loves you.
Then you begin to lose control and contract a drinking problem. You begin to party every other night and get yourself insanely drunk. You constantly deny having a problem.
The next day, you were caught for driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs. Then you get arrested.
Your life then suddenly spirals downwards as controversies arise. You are an alcoholic. You are an addict. Your acting is horrible. Your singing is horrible. And to top it all off, one of your balloon breasts suddenly deflates and your nose collapses.
You then realize–again with startling clarity– that stardom isn’t so great after all. And Hollywood isn’t all what it seems to be.
