Thursday, October 06, 2005
I Am A Celebrity
Ben advised me against this experiment, but I wanted to poke a hole in his theory that if you declare yourself a celebrity, then you are one. On a certain level, his theory makes sense, to the extent that there are any number of celebrities, like Paris Hilton, let's just say, who appear to have become famous for nothing visible to the naked eye. Still, I don't think it's quite that simple. So I hereby declare myself a celebrity. Should we become rich and famous overnight due to our celebrity status, I promise to try to make it up to you in infinity thread count sheets and a coffee maker that doesn't require delicate placement of a spoon in order to function.
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10 comments:
our coffeemaker requires delicate placement of a pastry brush. the first thing i thought of when i read katie was pregnant was that she'll be quickly, quietly removed to some remote locale if she so much as looks glum after that baby's born. my second thought was, "i wonder if betsy knows."
So, my first words yesterday about Tom and Katie were, "oh let's see what happens when Katie gets postpartum and according to the Handbook for Scientologists, she's not allowed any pain medication or to make any noises? during childbirth. Gimme a break, right? And by the way, we have an oven door that requires a spoon to have the door close all the way.
Hutchie, that's so funny about the pastry brush - I feel even closer to you guys now - and also funny about your second thought, because I got an email from kfoz about an hour after the story broke asking HAVE YOU HEARD? So apparently I am either the known expert or at least the curator of all things TomKat.
Angela, seriously? No noises? I don't even know what to say about that. But I feel so a part of now that I know so many people are in the odd utensil meets appliance club.
The passenger side window on my car is broken. Do you think a spoon might fix it?
Also, YOU making money off your celebrity status and then buying me a coffee maker is not the way it works. What happens is I sell the digital photos I have of you not wearing make-up and dressed in sweatpants for a million dollars and then I buy YOU a coffee maker.
If not a spoon, for sure a pastry brush. I don't know why I didn't suggest it yesterday.
Can you see it now? People like you, me, Meno, Sarah Vowell, Salman Rushdie in our sweatpants in Us magazine? Writers! They're just like us! That would be a very interesting day indeed. Especially since I don't even have sweatpants.
I'm going to get you some sweatpants.
I'm going to get you Juicy couture sweatpants. With rhinestones.
Fantastic!
Yes. Our coffeemaker requires the insertion of a chopstick to make the water with batteries fall into the carafe.
Wow, this is turning out to be a completely enlightening window into a necessity being the mother of invention human nature sort of thing. Not only do I feel less alone, but I feel quite glad to know that we aren't all just immediately throwing out our half-broken things and replacing them, which is of course what the man would like us to do. Bring on more stories of spoons, kids!
My coffee grinder died this morning, and I sit like some sulking Job, without a God to curse or bless, only the inert squat black plastic cylinder of the device. And it was a Krups, 'beschisse Maschine verdammt!' -- it is an affront to my mother's heritage that a Krups would break. If it had done so in her presence, she would have frowned at it and ritually prepared the carcass for burial by swabbing it with Lysol. My coffee consumption has diminished considerably, but still, a grinder is a handy thing to have(you can grind peppercorns or other dried seasoning -- if you use it for such a purpose, clean out the grinder afterwards by grinding a slice of white bread -- otherwise, you will have pepper-flavored coffee). I did not try to repair it, although if I had, I would have used a fork(to see if I could depress the 'on' part in the rim of the machine's base) -- not a spoon.
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