The Price of Fame

I spent all of yesterday knowing I had $6 to my name. No, I didn't have an emergency credit card with my daddy's name on it and my Visa was already maxed out...that's probably why I'm a platinum member...

Of course, I started off my day by purchasing a Diet Coke in the midst of a gay breakdown. When the Diet Coke didn't help, I purchased an iced coffee from Starbucks. I was embarrassed to have to order a grande for fear the card would be rejected with the price of a venti.

so then I was down to like...$youdothemath.75

As I arrived at work (you'll remember I'm a full-time employee now and still broke), I felt something funny underneath my shoe. I lifted my foot to see if I had stepped on something. Oh no, it was just a large hole torn in the bottom of my favorite patent leather sneakers. The shoes that had carried me through such beautiful memories (ex. the most unsuccessful NYC showcase in history) were even beginning to fall apart.

If my fashion couldn't hold up, what hope did I have?

I laid my head down at my desk and softly began to sob into my keyboard. My beautiful blonde co-worker (and coincidentally good friend Guppy) spoke to me in her soft, soothing voice and whispered the magic phrase:

"I'm taking you out for a drink."

Gulping down my G&Ts we discussed the balance of happiness and money. Sure money couldn't buy you happiness, but with holes in my designer shoes on my feet and roots that needed some lovin on my head, something had to be done.

As we began to think about our futures, I realized that even when I do reach fame, there's no way to ensure that I won't crash right back down to the rock-bottom, stank-pit life I'm living now....and then it hit me.

I had the most genius idea I've ever had.

I will slowly begin to release nude photos of myself into the public. SURE, some random people who haven't heard of me in years will wonder why me, a nobody, is e-mailing them nude photos of myself...and SURE, some random people will only use those pictures to elaborate upon filthy, filthy fantasies they've been having of me since 8th grade...

but when the time comes and I've won my three Tony's (2 for acting, one for lifetime achievement) and I'm 32 and sitting alone forgotten in Midtown EAST (the horror), I can recontact my list of nude-photo holders and they'll know exactly what to do.

and we'll all benefit.

So reserve your blog space now Perez Hilton because my tush has a future date to re-gain fame. This boy is going from Playbill to Playgirl and skipping right over bankruptcy.

For the rest of you...cross your fingers...you might have a present waiting in your inbox.

Don't forget to check your texts.

Not you mom,

TJB: Making It