Blog Fame.

Have now been asked on multiple occasions to give “shout outs” to my most fervent admirers.

I am not sure how to go about doing such a thing.  But I know what it means.

I have made it.

Must admit I am not certain where “it” is, but assume it to be a good indication that I am well on my way to becoming Queen of the Internet Machine.

THE POWER!

This also, I feel, grants me – in fact, thrusts upon me the responsibility of acting like a famous person.

Now from what I gather through ardent research, this will involve the constant use of dark sunglasses and weather inappropriate attire.

I must also begin to carry around small creatures in my purse at all times.  Am considering purchasing a particularly plush bag in which to place my cat.

Must also begin to date a man who is older than me by at least a decade (the other option is younger than me by at least a decade, but that doesn’t seem quite desirable or even legal).  This will not be a problem, as with my spectacular Dating Skills I can snag anyone.

And I’ve already chosen my match.

For those of you who know me, you will assume that I am referring to the one and only Enrique Iglesias. 

I must correct you.  Though he and I are madly, passionately in love, there is another.

One other.

Lee Pace will be my Arm Candy, as he has a spectacular last name that is utterly pronounceable by all races.  Furthermore, he is not bad on the eyes, and strikes me as a complete gentleman.  If he misbehaves, I will write him a script, as he seems to be quite talented at following those.

I will also possibly put him in the corner.

Fortunately, I already have the insane-religion-that-no-one-understands part down.*

Now on to my entourage. 

I’ve decided I cannot possibly have anyone prettier than me amongst my disciples, so I will request that they all wear masks.

Disobedience will be met with the harshest consequences.

They will be banned.

These masks will be especially important in hiding the true identities of my companions, for I fear that one has already begun the ride on the Fame Train in her own right.

She was on Kirksville television.

Now, if I were to receive any application with such a background in performance on it from any other applicant, they would immediately be shunned.

Yet this particular entourage member is indispensible, as she is my fellow Awkward Party Attender.

At some point in our lives, we missed the stage when everyone learns how to be regular, socially viable members of society.

Instead, we stand in the corner at parties (frequently shoved behind potted plants, doorways, or obese gentlemen), and whisper worriedly to ourselves about our poorly planned outfits.

We emerge from these shadows only in severe cases of Dancing Fever, when we hit the dance floor and immediately begin to jerk our bodies about in the manner of someone being tased.

Another entourage member will not be surprised to hear that I fully intend on demanding at least two restrooms be within a fifteen foot radius at all times, neither trapped behind tricky locked doors.

And we shall keep our secret love affair away from the press.  Can’t upset my Lee.

I will, of course, have many more admirers.  I certainly hope they plan on sending me love letters.  And chocolate.  And candy hearts.

I think I’ll be able to adjust well to this life of fame.

*Last night I attempted to explain my religion to my host mother.  I don’t actually know any useful words for describing things of a religious nature though, so I ended up just shouting, “Jesus! God! Devil! Birth! Death! Life! JESUS!” and gesturing wildly with my hands. 

She now thinks I am a Satanist.

Things did not exactly go according to plan.

Gone are the days of feigned normalcy.

I. Am. Famous!