Now that I live in Los Angeles, I encounter celebrities. Not regularly mind you, but it happens sometimes. Like erectile dysfunction.
Usually when I encounter a celebrity, I don't even realize until I see the paparazzi (p.s. they all look exactly the same to me… is that discrimination to say it out loud?). I then let out an audible sigh.
Almost always, I have the same thought when I see a celebrity and I don’t know from where in the dark recesses of my mind this comes.
"I want to light her hair on fire."
I’m sorry but before that ended terribly and tragically, it’d be pretty funny, right? She’d be whipping her hair all over the place, synthetic extensions curling up and melting. Some girl in the entourage would catch her wet look leggings on fire from the stray ashes. There would be a moment where no one knows whether or not to laugh or cry. A bodyguard would eventually remember to stop staring and extinguish the fire, but until then, it would be like watching a phoenix be reborn--if a phoenix was able to wear Christian Laboutin heels while dealing with its fire hair disaster.
If prominent women in the entertainment industry were able to overcome that, I think I might respect them more.
Until then, I am going to remain at a respectful distance. Not for their benefit and privacy, but merely to keep me out of prison.
p.s. This was entirely fictional (although my strange thought to set a celebrity’s hair on fire was not) and I would never do that. Not to you anyway. I’m entirely aware that this rant derived from jealous insecurities, but you know what? When I’m a celebrity, I welcome you to try and set my hair on fire. I will have learned by then to wear hats. And carry pepper spray.
