Reasons you will hate me

Famous me.

While I know that bloggers writing about dreams is about as scintillating as an unlubricated colonoscopy, I must share my shameful secret.
I dream about famous people. A lot. And when they appear in my subconscious, they are either desperately in love with me or wanting to be my friend more than anything in the world. Whether this says more about my frightening absorption of trash culture or my cheerily unabashed narcissism I don't know.
Last night I grabbed iconic Australian singer-songwriter Paul Kelly by the balls and whispered sexily into his ear: 'You make the best coffee.' Then I shared a bed with comedy hyuckster Steven Gates from Tripod - he was obsessed with me and wouldn't let me be, dear thing. Then I chewed the fat with Chopper Read , who was utterly charmed by me, in a hotel room at Crown Casino. It was quite a busy evening.
Other celebs who have pestered me in my sleep include Tom Cruise (in love with me), Drew Barrymore (trying to be my best pal), Sadie Frost (wanting to kiss my vagina) and various Beastie Boys.


Naturally I awaken from these dreams presuming that I am somehow 'connected' to these people, as I am quite the psychopathic hose beast. When I was nineteen I posted a paragraph on the World Wide Web (as we quaintly referred to it back then) about me and B-Boy Adam 'MCA' Yauch that was so intimate one of his girlfriends emailed me to find out if he and I were romantically involved. After that, she and I became penpals, which resulted in a few outings with the man himself, including a day trip to Sydney Aquarium and a theatre outing to 'Miss Saigon' the musical. But more of that another time.




Which leads me to my ill thought-out point. I was reading my beloved Q Magazine in the bath last night and stumbled across a story about Jennifer Love-Hewitt obsessing over Snow Patrol . Apparently she emailed the band to request their contribution to a movie soundtrack. It made me wonder how she gets people to take her emails seriously. I get about eighteen emails a day from JESSICA SIMPSON promising me SEXUALLY EXPLICIT content, and adding for effect: 'She said she was hungry, but damn!!!' AVIRL LAVIGNE has emailed a couple of times, although I'm a bit suss on her considering she appears to be having trouble spelling her own name. BRITNEY SPEARS is 'just looking 4 a freind and nothing eles badly', while WENDY O WILLIAMS not only seems to have returned from beyond the grave, but also to have taken an interest in finance, urging me to 'take advantage of low interest rates!'.
Poor Jennifer Love Hewitt, and her 'subject: hey Snow Patrol, I really want your music for my movie, seriously it's me Jennifer I can prove it if you just call me'. Unavailable to her are the jokey subject headings we all utilise in our email existence. No 'fuck you, Gabi' or 're: important document'.
I'd almost feel sorry for her if she wasn't such a vapid mongoloid.

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