Thursday, October 16, 2008

An Open Letter to Celebrities

Dear Celebrities,

Despite the fact that the island of Manhattan is crawling with the likes of you we have been able to pass the vast majority of our time on this island blissfully unaware of each other's presence. This week, however, you seem to have made it your mission to stalk me wherever I go.

When I nearly collided with Colin Farrell on 54th Street on Tuesday, I thought nothing of it other than briefly considering turning back to kick his ass for for breaking poor Rosario Dawson's heart a few years ago. Unfortunately, I had a meeting to attend so I left that for another day.

Then yesterday morning I feared that my prior night's bout with insomnia had caused hallucinations when on the the far corner of 43rd Street I saw hyper-annoying fitness personality Richard Simmons emerge from the midst of a group of people who were inexplicably dressed as crash test dummies. Unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky and it turned out to be him. Oblivious to the truck that was patiently waiting for him as he ignored the "Don't Walk" sign, he stood in the middle of the road and shouted "COME ON, CHEER UP EVERYONE! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" at us while we prayed that the "Don't Walk" sign would change. Still oblivious to the emerging pattern, I simply thought about how badly I wanted to punch him in the face.

The proverbial penny didn't drop until I left my company's Fall Sales Meeting yesterday and observed Mark Wahlberg making his way down 49th Street. When I got to the corner I came upon a group of our (male) Associates giggling like schoolgirls because they claimed he said "What's up?" to them - but I now suspect that he'd ingratiating himself to obtain information on my whereabouts.

Apparently, he passed that knowledge on to Elliott Gould who spied me as I walked through Grand Central Station and who, in turn, relayed to Keira Knightley that I was heading downtown. When I saw her that afternoon she was on her cell phone, no doubt passing along my whereabouts to the rest of the celebrity world.

Now I recognize that this signifies that my blog has officially "blown up" - which is no surprise since people have been telling me for years that my blog blows - and given me superstar status, but frankly it's gotten annoying.

My desire for privacy isn't all that dissimilar that which a few of you demonstrated by obtaining restraining orders on me simply because I followed you home spent the night shouting "We're meant to be together!" at your bedroom window. (I'm talking to you Shakira, Halle Berry, Marisa Tomei, and the 20-30 others whom the court-ordered confidentiality agreements prevent me from naming.)

Anyway, all I want is to be left alone to practice my craft. Is that too much to ask? If you feel the need to contact me, do what almost nobody else does - comment on the blog and I'll do my best to respond to you there.

Sincerely your friend,