If I Was a Celebrity...

I don’t know about you, but my favorite part about visiting the grocery store is waiting in the checkout line; this gives me time to peruse the tabloids for the media frenzy about the latest misadventures of the now grown up child stars or horny politicians. It seems that nothing will mess you up more than being the underage star of some lame eighties TV sitcom. Nonetheless, which one of us would turn down Fate’s invitation to become a celebrity and spend our days finding ways to make the front page of the Daily Star? Not me! Now I admit that, already being a blogging buffoon, this isn’t such a stretch for The Captain; the only difference would be that my silly and obscene antics would be real and not imagined. But I thought it would still be loads of fun to go through the exercise of planning my day as if I was Charlie Sheen or MacKenzie Phillips. So here we go, The Captain’s “Day with an Imaginary Celebrity.”

6 AM: Put on one of those Lone Ranger masks without the holes for the eyes, take a valium, and go to bed.

3 PM: Wake Up Call, which means having my hot illegal immigrant housekeeper wake me up by throwing a strike down my custom mahogany bedroom bowling alley wet bar. If that doesn’t work, she has been instructed to get out the forceps and the tequila.

3:30 PM Breakfast of Lucky Charms, skittles, and, to make it healthy, some appled-smoked bacon to get my daily serving of fruit.

5 PM: Place a call on my diamond studded Blackberry to a local T-Shirt shop to order 100 shirts that read: “Unattractive Groupies Need Not Apply.”

6 PM: Call my Personal Assistant to instruct him to set up a play date with Cory Feldman and a Michael Jackson Impersonator.

7 PM: Luncheon with hot E News reporter by the pool. Don’t forget to use my big boy manners.
8:30 PM: Go on Scavenger Hunt in neighborhood ravines looking for one of Charlie Sheen’s Mercedes and discarded prescription meds.

9:00 PM: Game of Spin the Bottle with MacKenzie Phillips, Margot Kidder, Robert Downey, Jr., Winona Ryder, Lindsey Lohan, Dana Plato, and those anorexic blonde twins. Share my scavenger hunt plunder. Prank call Johnny Depp and tell him it’s the 90’s and he doesn’t know what he’s missing!

9:37 PM: Call 911

9:38 PM: Call my lawyer.

10 PM: Order some Chinese, with a side of activated charcoal.

11 PM: Move the party down to the Home Theater Bunker Bar. Tell Lindsay Lohan that Britanny Spears is prettier than she is and duck. Put on Gary Coleman masks and revive Dana Plato. Strategically place shiny trinkets with hidden GPS chips throughout the room so you can track Winona Ryder after she leaves.

12 AM: Private concert with Justin Bieber, which is interrupted after ten minutes when Lohan mistakes him for Spears.

12:26 AM: Call Justin’s Mom.

1:30 AM: Ring for Alfred the Butler (his real name is Steve) and have him bring the Hummer around to get me the f*ck outta here. Just drive Alfred my man!!!!

1:31 AM: Paparazzi on Vespas in hot pursuit.

1:35 AM: Instruct Alfred to push the Batmobile button to release a gazillion Ninja stars from the secret trunk compartment into the Paparazzi’s path.

1:36 AM: Steve instructs me to sit down and shut up.

2 AM: Arrive back home to find Kidder and Plato humping an unconcious Downey, Jr, Phillips in the pantry, nose bloodied after inhaling 3 packets of Margartita mix, Lohan with Sheen in an arm lock, Ryder long gone, and a bill from the ambulance company that transported Spears. No sign of those skinny ass twins other than the 15 empty Oreo packages on the floor. Rush over to stop Phillips from trying to snort the crumbs.

2:30 AM: Go next door to hang with the eight kids who live there – their parents are never home. Spend all night talking about how their Dad’s a Playa and Mom’s a narcissistic publicity hound. Put the kids to bed and headed home – had to pull Kidder out of the pool again.

6 AM: Called the housekeeper – Lolita or Senorita or Margarita or whatever her name is – to come and tuck me in. I sleep, perchance to dream, though my reality is naught but a dream. It’d been a busy day as a Celebrity.

Believe The Captain when he says: Everything you read in the Daily Star is true!

Yours calling Kidder a cab,

The Captain

Friends from the Hood