Click Here North Star Writers Group
Syndicated Content.
Opinion.
Humor.
Features.
OUR WRITERS ABOUT US  • COLUMNISTS   NEWS/EVENTS  FORUM ORDER FORM RATES MANAGEMENT CONTACT
Political/Op-Ed
Eric Baerren
Lucia de Vernai
Herman Cain
Dan Calabrese
Alan Hurwitz
Paul Ibrahim
David Karki
Llewellyn King
Nathaniel Shockey
Stephen Silver
Candace Talmadge
Jessica Vozel
Feature Page
David J. Pollay - The Happiness Answer
Cindy Droog - The Working Mom
The Laughing Chef
Humor
Mike Ball - What I've Learned So Far
Bob Batz - Senior Moments
D.F. Krause - Business Ridiculous
 
 
 
 
 
Cindy Droog
  Cindy's Column Archive
 

April 9, 2007

Today, My Celebrity Life Begins

 

I am going to follow in the footsteps of Britney Spears and shave my head.

 

I’ve been thinking long and hard about this, and I’ve decided that it is absolutely brilliant. Now, I just need to convince everyone else in my family, company, neighborhood and city to do the same. Consider the advantages. First, you could probably sleep anywhere from 5-45 minutes longer each morning. And sleep is great for stress relief and weight management. Score one for baldness!

 

Second, once the idea caught on, I’d no longer be envious of that girl in my department whose hair is perfectly tousled – daily, mind you – and has that sexy bed-head look. My bed-head is more on the scary end of the spectrum, and I bet yours is, too. In the world of cue balls, no one would care.

 

It might even mean that someday, women – like men – would be judged solely by what is in their head. Not by what is on it.

 

I’ve got some other lifestyle ideas that I’m going to steal from celebrities while I’m at it. Just like Denise Richards, I’m going to whack people and throw their computers off balconies when they try to dip too far into my business. OK, so we don’t actually have balconies in cubicle-land, but next time the office gossip sidles up to my cube, I do have a variety of weapons from which to choose: full water bottle, phone or coffee mug.

 

This might work for in-laws, too. Personally, I don’t have nosey ones, but many of my friends do. And I’m quite sure that throwing one of their prized possessions out of a second-story window would keep them away for at least a week.

 

I’ve also decided to hire a talent agent. It’s hard to imagine that all these years, I’ve been out there, all alone, vying for myself in the cruel corporate world. I’ve been to casting calls (phone interviews), script readings (live interviews), and endlessly assessed by the critics (performance reviews).

 

It would be so much easier to build a long-lasting, solid, trusting relationship with a talent agent. One like Jim Carrey’s, who brought him from a few hundred bucks per appearance to millions – in what most corporate lifers would consider very short time. My talent agent could scour the company for all the coolest projects, and get me on those teams. He could negotiate my salary, vacation, and limit my prime time assignments to a few at a time.

 

Perhaps he could get me a seat at the Academy Awards, but even more useful would be his weekly trips out for my dry cleaning. Because I’m really getting sick of that chore!

 

Finally, I am frequently going to check myself into rehab – whether I need it or not. That’s going to solve everything. The accidental outburst I had during a meeting last week – what did I just say that out loud? Chalk it up to my “problem.” The deadline I missed that put the whole project behind by 15 minutes? All is forgiven, because clearly, I have a “problem.”

 

My mom will have to take care of my son, and all the people I work with will have to send me flowers and presents, and the best part of all? Everyone can tiptoe around me when I come back to work. So, if I don’t want to, I won’t have to talk to them and it won’t even seem rude.

 

I guess if we could all do what the celebrities do, we’d be living the highlife. Of course, when they’re not in rehab, they get to live it in an 11-bedroom, nine-bathroom mansion with their on-again, off-again boyfriends and their pink-clad Chihuahuas.

 

As for me, my version of “living large” is a 3-bedroom home, and only needing to hit my mechanic’s shop four times a year instead my normal six.  He understands that the dent on my hood was because of “my problem” and it should certainly be overlooked – by him, my spouse, friends, parents, coworkers, and of course, the police.

 

All this license, and it all starts with a razor to my skull. And you all thought Britney was an airhead.

 

To offer feedback on this column, click here.

 

© 2007 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

 

Click here to talk to our writers and editors about this column and others in our discussion forum.

 

To e-mail feedback about this column, click here. If you enjoy this writer's work, please contact your local newspapers editors and ask them to carry it.

This is Column # CD039. Request permission to publish here.