Yeah, they do. It’s probably because I want to be one. I want to bring my little golden globes to the Golden Globes. I want to be in on the industry jokes. I want to shamelessly shill my designer friend’s duds and brag about my borrowed baubles.
But most of all, more than anything, I want to tell people what to do and have them listen to me, simply because I’m beautiful. Oh, and really good at pretending.
“It is an honor to be here in a roomful of what I consider to be the most important people on the planet – actors,” this from my new crush, Ricky Gervias, host of the Golden Globes. “They’re just better than ordinary people aren’t they?”
I think celebrities actually believe that – that they’re better than we non-celebs, we plain-belly Sneetches. Oh yeah, they all lock-jaw chuckled at Gervais’s joke, but you know what they were thinking: “Who the hell is this guy and who cares about the BBC? Oh, forgot, this is a foreign press thing, so I’ll laugh a little. Har, har.”
Celebrities don’t piss me off all the time, just sometimes – usually when they’re being themselves, when they’re not pretending.
I love movies. I like TV. I subscribe to “People” and “Vanity Fair” and I make it a point to read as much of the “Enquirer” as possible before I have to load my groceries onto the belt at Wal-Mart. (I mean, come on, who doesn’t love celebrity cellulite?) Does this make me a celebrity hypocrite? Probably, but hey, I’m in good company. After all, celebrities are some of the biggest hypocrites going, so I’m sort of my own little celebrity.
At least I’m not bossing people around from my plexi-glass podium, reminding them to feel guilty that they’re sitting there, all cozy in their living rooms, watching the Golden Globes and forgetting all about the tens of thousands of dead in Haiti. Thank God, Nicole Kidman reminded me to remember what’s going on in Haiti, otherwise it would have completely slipped my mind.
Do I look like an idiot? An amnesiac? How could I possibly forget with all of those “Awareness Ribbons” flapping in my face? I think there were three different color Awareness Ribbons representing Sunday night. Everybody wearing their colors. Could have been an Awareness Rumble.
Awareness Ribbons. I guess the simple act of being aware means you’re a good person. A better person than me – me, sitting on the sofa, drinking wine in my pajamas, no Awareness Ribbon in sight. What if I forgot to remember to be aware? What kind of monster am I? Thank God the presenters kept coming, each in his/her own Awareness Ribbon, to remind me to remember to be aware and what a terrible person I was for forgetting to remember.
Awareness Ribbon. Seems to me more like a guilt shield. Kind of like Wonder Woman’s bullet deflecting bracelets. “Can’t judge me, I’ve got my Awareness Ribbon on. I’m on ghouls. Safe!”
I think it takes more balls not to wear the Awareness Ribbon. Keeps ‘em guessing.
And I don’t need a ribbon upside the head to remind me what’s going on in the world. I know what it’s like out there. I make my charitable contributions, quietly, with no ribbons on. I help out. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I’m watching the award show for the fashion, the Botox, the latest trout lip injections. If I wanted to feel guilty, I’d call my mom.
Some celebrities had so little faith in the audiences’ level of awareness that they went so far as to explain what their Awareness Ribbon meant they were aware of: “You might have seen some of us wearing these ribbons tonight.” Understatement of the evening. “We’re wearing these ribbons to show support for the people of Haiti.”
Oh, right, I almost forgot.
Showing support? What the hell does showing support mean? Showing support just sounds too wimpy to me. Like almost doing something. Kind of like wearing an Awareness Ribbon.
I know I was looking to Mariah Carey’s underwhelming black dress mini-dress to show a little more support for her over-amplified, over-exposed boobs. Can I get an Awareness Ribbon to show support for Mariah’s boobs? Or maybe a ribbon to show that I’m aware that Mariah’s boobs need supporting?
I don’t know, maybe I’m just too cynical or too much of a bitch. But I’m acutely aware of some pretty amazing non-celebrities, some profound plain-bellies. And they are out there, every day, working in some of the most devastating and heart-breaking theaters on earth, giving of themselves day in, day out – their time, their hearts, their souls, their very own blood and sweat and tears and they manage to do it all without a plexi-glass podium, an audience or a ribbon.
It just seems better to me somehow, less tacky shall we say, to be a little less boastful about one’s awareness, one’s charitable heart. After all, true charity is anonymous, isn’t it?
Who knows, maybe someday these celebrities will realize that they don’t need to show off their awareness, their support with a ribbon. Maybe someday the ribbons will be gone from the stars and no one will care who does or who does not have one upon thars.