“I’d like to thank the Academy ...“ How I’d love to utter those words, draped in Dior and dripping diamonds, standing before an audience of thousands of Tinseltown’s elite, a bank of cameras capturing the moment for millions more. Heck, I’d even be happy to be able to say, “It’s an honor just to be nominated…”
But it’s highly unlikely that either of those scenarios will ever take place.
Other words that, unfortunately, will never pass my lips are:
“Have your people call my people.”
I would love to have people! And I don’t mean just relatives and friends. I mean anonymous people who would do my bidding because I can afford to pay them enormous amounts of money.
“I need some fashion advice. I have no idea what to wear to accept a Pulitzer prize.”
As if that matters! I’d wear a burlap bag if necessary.
“How many blocks does that line stretch? I’m getting writer’s cramp from signing all these books.”
I wish! However, the only people who show up at my book signings are the few friends ‘ve begged, bribed or bullied into coming; except for one stranger who stopped by at a recent signing. He glared and asked, “Are you anybody?” I smiled brightly, holding up my book.. “I’m the author!” “Yeah,” he replied, “But are you anybody?” “No,” I had to admit, smile fading, “I’m nobody.”
“Do you know who I am?!”
Yeah. Nobody. We just established that.
“I can’t decide whether to spend next weekend at my chalet in Chamonix or my manor on Maui.”
Decisions, decisions …
“Is my jet fueled and ready for take-off?”
How else could I travel to Chamonix or Maui on a moment’s notice?
“Hello, Brinks? I’m going to collect my $100 million lottery winnings check, and I need an armed escort to the bank.”
Hey, somebody’s got to win. Isn’t it my turn yet? Maybe I should buy a ticket.
“I think I’ll take the Lamborghini today. I drove the Ferrari yesterday.”
Besides, the Ferrari clashes with my outfit, and I don’t have time to change.
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