I do feel like throwing up. I wish I could say ‘Oh listen, everybody! It's the Celine Dion song!’ But I don’t. I just have to sit there, you know, kind of straight-faced with a massive internal eye roll . . . Every time I go into a bar in a hotel where there's a live pianist, or into a restaurant where they’re changing their music according to who walks into the door, it’s thrilling for people to ‘surprise me’ with that song.
Somebody hand me the Kleenex.
Poor, poor Kate. I am sooooooooooo sorry that hearing a wonderfully composed and executed theme song associated with a blockbuster movie that put your name on the map and made you millions upon millions of dollars upsets your little tum-tum. A case of Pepto-Bismol is on the way. Bless your little heart.
(Side note: There are two meanings behind the saying “Bless your little heart” in the South. The first is said with the utmost sincerity and is used to express an extreme amount of sympathy. The second (and my intent) means “Fuck You”. Usually said with a smile.)
So here’s my advice. And I will try to use monosyllabic words when possible so these celebrities can understand. I will attempt to offer up a radically simple solution which, when executed, should free these people from their apparently miserable existences:
Get a new Fucking job!
Leave the acting “biz” and take a gig as a secretary. You’ll then be free to spend your days listening to whatever the hell you want to on your specially designed “Pandora” station.
- No more paparazzi to deal with, because you bitches are always complaining about these people.
- No more red carpets to walk as, for some reason, this requires in an inordinate amount of time, money, energy and other people to execute. You will be, however, free to randomly stick out your leg in an awkward pose at any time you see fit.
- No more interviews giving you the opportunity to stick your bitchy little foot in your mouth. When somebody asks you a question, you won’t be able to Google your answer for time immemorial.
- No more giving a percentage of your earnings to: agents, managers, publicists, stylists and the like. You’ll do what we all do and just give a share to the government.
- It might be a slightly difficult adjustment period going from earning multi-millions of dollars a year to something in the mid-five-figure range.
- Rush hour traffic. Yep – have fun with that one.
- No more personal anything (chefs, nutritionists, housekeepers, trainers, stylists, bodyguards, nannies, hair and makeup people . . . nada). You have to do everything yourself.
- Juggling work, kids, social life . . . . etc. on the significantly lower income and staff help.
By the way, Katie-poo, Celine Dion called and she said to tell you “Fuck you very much”.
But she said it in French so it sounded a lot nicer.