Anonymous Celebrity

Sooooooo ... Hi y'all, so YA! I've been away for the last month, and actually, well, I'm still technically AWAY and will be for the next week or so, working on a HUUUUGE project that is just gonna make me sooo much fuckin' money. Even for me, and I mean, shit, it's not like I haven't got enough.

Anyways, remember that hot producer friend of mine from London who stopped over in L.A. (hint, hint: we didn't fuck, that time!) Well, I been spending a 'lil bit a time with him, and he told me 'bout this band before ... the one, you will remember, whose gig I stopped by to see. They're called AQUILA'S KISS (damn, I wanna kiss that goddamn singer)!!

My Darlings, don't tell me I don't tell you who the world's next fuckin' A-Lizters are ... who are the the next Princes to join me in the A-List monarchy where I occupy "Princess of the 21'st Century" status. Well, the band I told y'all to check out are in the FINAL of Jamie Oliver's unsigned band's competition! Yah, they beat like 400,000 other bands to make it to the final 5!!! (An interesting story about Jamie, but I'll tell you next time) ... And go vote for them now, 'cause there's like, a day or less left!

So, this totally hot producer asked me if there was ANYTHING I could do ... and well, since he's HOT, here is my philanthropic act of the day: GO VOTE FOR THEM HERE RIGHT NOW! (it's not that difficult, all you need to do it click "vote". DO NOT vote for any others, either). And listen to their music ... 'cause trust me, ya'll here a lot more of it soon. And I mean SOON. What's in it for her, you're asking? Well, maybe I'll tell you next time about my exploits with MR. STAR-STUDDED PLATINUM PRODUCER ... (hint, look hard at the MYSPACE PAGE of the band AFTER voting, and ya'll find out who he is)!

I love you all, Really ...

Your very sober, very busy, very happy,

Anonymous Celebrity 'x'

I've been thinkin': I'm gonna be tha' FIRST bitch to make ya'll ORGASM while reading a BLOG FUCKIN' POST!

Soooo ... yes, My Darlings, I have left you without my wit, humor, accounts of my cocaine-fueled evenings and sweet, poetic verse for a few days now. I do hope you haven't lost your minds or craved me like a speedball in that period of time ...

... for the truth is, I've been having THE BEST SEX THAT MONEY CAN BUY!

Most of you probably think that aside from sleeping with someone who ya' paying, money don't buy sex?! Well, My Darlings, IT DOES!! All you need is a private plane, a few grams of coke, a bottle of Cristal ... and ya' well on ya' way to the most immense orgasm that money - or love - can buy you!

So ya, I've been seeing random guys and gals for a bit, but no one quite caught my attention like MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER the other night. We were eating out (noooo, NOT THAT TYPE of eating out; we'll get to that later!) at Balthazar, a chic SoHo restaurant that basically ... well ya' gotta be fuckin' A-LIST to eat there. If that's ever you, order the King crab legs and the Sancerre '04 (not the '06!)

So me and MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER sucked on crab legs, sucked on Sancerre, and headed back to my hotel to pack my bags together for my trip back to Los Angeles. Oh, My Darlings, how my heart longed to stay with him ... I don't care, I mean, even if he is outta work, he's the first guy I've felt something for in sooooo fuckin' long. He's the first guy who can touch me and make me shiver all over my body, make me forget reality, forget my fans, FORGET MY FUCKIN' WORK!

I needed him, in the physical, metaphysical, Romantic and literal sense. I NEEDED him on that FUCKIN' gulfstream with me:

ME: (Turning around, suddenly, throwing my arms over his comfortingly broad shoulders, feeling his muscles tense, relax, tense, relax). I need you. I need you now. Not here, not for one last final fuck ... in life, right now. I don't know ... maybe not even forever. But now. PLEASE ... come with me now back to L.A.

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER: (Eyes watery, those beautiful, beautiful soft blue eyes. Mouth just a little open, how I wanted those lips so badly on mine, how I wanted his tongue underneath me making me orgasm AGAIN AND AGAIN!) But ... Baby, I live here.

ME: So what? Come, PLEASE, PLEEEEEEES ... My God, I'm begging - just come!!

An hour later, and the limo driver is taxiing us BOTH, hand-in-fuckin'-hand, to the gulfstream! Now, for those uninitiated in the types of situations where girls (come ooooooon, I mean, I'm a fuckin' A-List celebrity but underneath that beautiful, sexy, fuck-me demeanor I'm still just a GIRL!) are most turned on, most horny, so fuckin' wet that we feel that we pissed our La Senza panties (that's not an ad, either: it's a HINT HINT if it's ya girlfreind's fuckin' birthday any time soon) ... it is situations such as THESE! It is NOT, contrary to popular belief, watching guys on steroids in G-fuckin'-strings! So My Darlings, you can imagine that my cute lil' white Armani number was positively soaked through by the time we reached the soft, white leather couches of the gulfstream, hand in hand ... his hand making my body shudder nearly in orgasm, his touch making me wanna REACH FOR HIS PANTS and ...

... I guess if you're creative, like I am, and  girl, this type of situation is more amplified than for most girls. I guess if you're imagination can carry you up into the sky, along with your eighty million dollar ten thousand dollar a day on the ground fifty fuckin' thousand bucks an hour in the sky plane, well, WHAT'S A GIRL GONNA DO?? GO TO SLEEP?

But before we join the mile high club here at this blog, there are some important things ya' gotta consider when having sex in the air, and in general, they involve aviation. For those uninitiated, here are the properties of an airplane (you get to know them pretty well when you get your own plane, so listen up):

1. They have highly pressurized cabins, hence exemplifying the impact of explosions, pistons, and muscular contractions (by the way, THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T WANNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK ON A PLANE - actually, it's also why that deep vein thing happens up in the air more often than in say, a car or a train).

2. Altitudes dry things out dramatically. Skiers know this best; the snow is drier, and therefore easier for off-piste trickery in the Alps, than, say, the Sierra Nevada, simply because it's higher up. Frequent fliers also know this; spill one of THESE (no, that's not an ad, I'm just wasting your time) on your pants 30,000 feet above the sea and it's gonna dry up in like, 3 minutes!

3. Airplanes frequently change altitudes during the flight, by around 2000 or 3000 feet. You never feel this on say, American Airlines, 'cause the air pressure up there is denser and the plane is so large the whole thing is generally unrecognizable ... but in a gulfstream, you tend to feel it.

This, when translated into sexual intercourse, means the following:

1. Orgasms are MUCH more intense the higher you fly, and guys squirt about double the amount of cum everywhere that they do on the ground. So if you're giving a blowjob girls, expect a lil' more juice than usual. On the other hand, if your man-of-the moment is cumming all over your clitoris, then there will usually be sufficient lubrication to make you ORGASM LIKE A MERMAID!

2. Things dry out up there ... including our vaginas ... therefore, you need to be a) SERIOUSLY wet, b) see 1), or 3) tell the guy not to thrust his fuckin' cock up you like a horse or a dog, but do it slowly. (BY THE WAY, GUYS ... YES, we girls like it when you fuck us hard, BUT HAVE SOME RESPECT WHEN ENTERING PLEASE. If you still don't get this, think of ya' freinds' house ... you can do all the blow and drink and skunk you want inside, but you take your goddamn shoes off first!)

3. Any change - up or down - in altitude can significantly affect how wet you are, and how intense the orgasm is! Here's the conundrum however: if the plane comes down, ya' gonna stay wet for longer but the orgasm intensity will decrease, and visa versa!

Now, I'm sure you can all see how to join the mile high club and have the best ever experience?? Or you can all see the classic PROBLEM with joinin', right? Right? RIIIIIIIIGHT? (BIG HINT: it's why you should NEVER have sex flying commercial). Nope, ya'll cluless, so let me fill ya' in. Start havin' sex on the GROUND, and aim to get the orgasm by the time you reach around 35,000 feet (for flights less than one hour long this will usually be 22,000 feet by the way, but like, whatever).

So ...

ME: (In my glistening black Jimmy Choo stilettos, white, simple cotton Armani one piece, and the soaked-through turqouise La Senza panties): I NEED YOU IN ME NOW! I NEED IT. Oh my GOD, PLEASE, now!

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER: Baby, we're like, about to take off. Wait a second 'till we're in the air, dont'cha think?

ME: OK, I gotta tell ya' something ... (This I have already told you My Darlings, in 1 through 3 above).

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER moved his hand gently - what a great man, with all his strength, moving his hand GENTLY, not like an animal over my panties, parting them, taking them off. With his right hand he cuffed my right wrist to the head of the leather seat, where there's like, a lil' hook for coats and shit. Damn, I could feel my cum on my panties against my wrist, and FUCK, I WANN'ED TO CUM RIGHT THERE! My left hand he forced down with all his strength up against the couch, and undid his pants with the other hand.

One thing I love about MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER is that his cock is the straightest, uncut (that's kinda rare here, like ... it's a European thang, but ya', he's European!) 9-inch rod with the red eye ball I have seen in ages. I could see the blood underneath filling it up, I could feel the weight of the cum in his balls, there against my clitoris. (Another tip guys: WE LOVE IT WHEN YOU RUB OUT CLITORIS WITH YOUR BALLS, SOFTLY, BEFORE YOU ENTER IS, OKAY? We just don't tell ya' this shit, 'cause we think it's so-fuckin'-obvious it's above-the-need-for-explanation. Come oooon, don't ya' tell me it doesn't feel good for you too!)

ME: GET INSIDE ME NOW! PUT IT INSIDE ME!! PLEEEEEES!!

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER did what all great male lovers do: he ignored my begging and continued gently rubbing my clitoris with his heavy, cum-fuckin'-heavy balls.

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER then moved his head down, still chaining me through my tied, wet panties, and his muscular, deep push ... MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER moved his tongue softly over my clitoris, like a flame, like a soft, wet, cold flame, like a warmer and warmer and fuckin' KILLIN' MY CLITORIS FLAME ... MY GOOOOOOOOOD ...

CAPTAIN OVER INTERCOM: We managed to get the flightplan changed slightly, and now we'll be out over Pennsylvania, up over Chicago, round Seattle and straight down from there in around five hours to Los Angeles. (YOU MAY NOT THINK A CHANGE IN FLIGHT PLAN IS SEXY, but oh, IT IS, IT SOOOOO FUCKIN ISS!! It reminds you of your public presence, your risk of being caught, and the limit in time you have left ...)

The plane began to circle the runway as MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER circled my  tongue-wet clit gently again with his huge penis and his huge, soft fingers, moving my cum from my pussy over and over and OOOOVERRR ...

MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER: I 'm gonna fuck ya' in your dress, baby, fuck ya' so fuckin' hard in ya' dress.

And with that, MR. OUT OF WORK EX-BOYBAND MEMBER slowly moved his hard cock in and out, slowly SLOWLY GENTLY OHMYGOD I WANNA CRY IT'S SO DAMN SWEET! In and out, and the plane hit it's 90 mile an hour stride, 120 mile an hour stride, my dress soaking, his hand pressed against my wrist, his other hand circling my hard right nipple, then tugging at my long, beautiful, hair, as the plane hit it's 250 mile an hour stride and we turbo'ed up 15,000 feet I could feel my whole body contract, feel my vagina contract with his cock, with his cum leaking into me ...

... and then MY GOD, MY HEAVENLY, HEAVENLY FATHER, we hit 27,000 feet, and like, I guess you know what happened ...

... it was like a rainfall amid the sunniest, driest, HOTTEST beach day, and MY GOD, MY GOD, MY HEAVENLY FATHER ... you really CAN buy anything you want when you have the money of all the gods in the world combined ...

I love You All, Really ...

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'

So the week has whirred by like the propellers of my gulfstream.

A few of you may remember that I was asked to star in a new Broadway show the other day, which the producers are subsequently planning on making into a movie (and I was asked to star in that too, remember?) Well, I went to see Mr. Jewish Art House Multi-Millionaire Producer at his swanky midtown offices today, to discuss this further. I mean, I know this could be a HUUUUUGE opportunity, not to mention an SUV of freshly varnished Mr. Benjamin Franklins - so what's a girl gonna do but check it out, right?

His office is the kind of plush, modern art-decco establishment that more resembles something out of Gordon Gekko's Penthouse trading floor in the movie Wall Street than it is anything to do with the humble makings of a theater production company. Everyone smokes inside, even though that's like, completely forbidden in New York City. Montechritos, Havana II's, Romeo & Julieta's with the tobacco cut out through the middle and a stash of skunk or weed crushed into the middle of Cuba's finest; the place is brimming with smoke, Martinis, and scotch.

I swear you could be at a mid-day cocktail party, if it wasn't for the soft brimming of the phones and the clickety-click of the Mac Powerbooks everywhere. Naturally, as always, I was showed the door right in, with the limo chug-chugging it's black exhaust up into Gotham City's awesome skyline. (Right here, in the middle of the high-rises, we don't really care that oil prices are ascending at the rate of the next fastest-built six star hotel in Dubai or Shanghai - we keep the cars chugging their shit outside for the Great & Glorious, for the Celebrities such as myself. Sound arrogant? MAN, THIS FUCKING CITY IS ARROGANT. This whole fuckin' SCENE - LIVIN' THIS GODAMN DREAM - is arrogance on oxycontin and xanax and speed!)

Mr. Jewish Art House Multi-Millionaire Producer was dressed, as always, for the occasion: light black fitted Armani suit, no tie, crisp pale cream Brooks Brothers shirt and Gucci lofas. Tres NINETEEN NINETY NINE, mes cheries!

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: (Oh, ya, I almost forgot, chomping on the LARGEST cohiba in the room, as if to create a cheap phallic metaphor for his power, wealth, fame and success ...) Soooooooooo, Sweetie - ya thought over our offer??

A BLONDE FASHION AVENUE PA OF SOME KIND WALKS IN, GIVES HIM SOME GODDAMN PAPERS, INTERRUPTING MY LINE OF THOUGHT. I fucking hate it when that happens.

BLONDE FASHION AVENUE PA: ... And also, I'm sorry sir, I forgot to tell you earlier. That. Umm ... (Intimidated by my fame and fortune, I am sure, she trips over her words). Uhh ... ya, your wife called.

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: Which one? (ROARING with laughter like it's the funniest thing he's heard since, like 1999. By the way, the wife is some 20-something society girl. Ya, she's a fuckin' TROPHY!)

BLONDE FASHION AVENUE PA: Sir? (I gotta laugh now, 'cause this is great; the bimbo fucked up!)

ME: I tell ya what, honey, can you give us ten then tell his ... third, right?

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: Gimme a break, sweetheart, SECOND! SECOND!

ME: ... Second wife that I'd love to come to the party Thursday night?

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: She invited ya? That girl just can't get enough of tha' society thing. I thought the place on Central Park would be enough, but it's just made her more hungry. HUNGRY for enemies, more like ... (At BLONDE FASHION AVENUE PA). It's okay, you can get outta here ...

BLONDE FASHION AVENUE PA: (At me) It's really cool to meet you, by the way!

ME: Can I get some ice water - or do you only have Martinis and gins here?

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: Last I read you weren't so impartial to the occasional alcoholic beverage, mademoiselle?

ME: I'm not, I just like to save it all up for the evening. (Throwing him a wink). Okay, what I'm gonna make outta this whole thing?

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: Ten, fifteen. Maybe more. (In this world you absolutely NEVER use  the extension "million"; you assume everything is million plus. I mean, the gulfstream is ten grand a day to run, for Christ's sake!!)

ME: I like it. How long I gotta do the Broadway thing for? 'Cause like, the reality TV show thing is gonna come round Fall, then I got -

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: Fuck the reality show! Do this!

ME: I can't ... I committed.

MR. JEWISH ART HOUSE MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PRODUCER: (sigh) Ya' gotta do at least two seasons here - sometime next year. We'll give you two for that, I guess. And I'll get ya' a nice place to stay. Ya' can keep the wife company. On second thoughts, you can stay the hell away. You two together would be serious trouble. 

So, I guess I'm doin' it then? And that wraps up the week My Darlings ... whadda whadda whadda week!

I Love You All, Really ...

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'

God, you guys know how to make me cry! I've just received an e-mail from a fan of this blog that really made me think:

I've just finished watching Freaky Friday (yes, pretty old movie but I still love it) and it made me think about you. All I'm trying to say is, you have so much in you - the talent to act and sing, the pretty face and the youth. Don't let all of them go to waste because it would be a real shame. I've always rooted for you and it makes me happy if you're living your life in the right track. I'm not saying you're not and neither am I trying to sound saintly. I, like every of your fans, only want the best for you.

The wind of change is always blowing and change is good but dont let it lead you to the wrong path, =)

Sorry if I sound nag-ish. Just wanted to let you know what's on my mind.

Have a great weekend.

Regards,
Claudine

There is such sincerity, such sincerity in the tone of voice here. Such love. IF ONLY you knew how devoid my life was of love, you would understand what this type of comment means to me. It means the whole world; more than that ... I mean, it doesn't mean more than my gulfstream (here I want to digress for a minute: NOTHING, once you're a celebrity and fucking rich, means as much as your gulfstream. Private air travel is the one thing you value above EVERYTHING ELSE ... and as I said, it is your cocoon from the rest of the world, even parked at Trenton, NJ. Even parked in the middle-a-fuckin'-Manhattan at La Guardia, it somehow saves you, offers you comfort from the shit around you. I mean, you gotta be a billionaire to have one ...) but it does mean more than the screen performances, than the pretty-in-pink bullshit you gotta go through every day.

I slipped off the waggon, and ya', I'm high again. HIIIIIIIIIIIGH AS A FUCKIN' KIIIIITE!! In fact, I never stopped slippin' off the wagon, I just tell that to the producers, the judges, the FUCKIN' PUBLIC 'cause they never get what it is to live the 24/7-JETSET-INthafuckin mix lifestyle that I live. DAMN, THE CRAP!

OK, well I'm writing this from HERE, aboard the private jet and Gooooooood it looks like an ordinary life outside. Tell me My Darlings, DID ANYONE like my poem? Tell me, My Darlings, what does it feel like not to be famous?

I Love You All, Really,

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'

A POEM FOR LOVE

Celebritydome is not matyrdome yet neither is it
society’s gimmick that you my Doll can undermine_
Can use to tear this soul of mine
Through reason, through rancorous rational
– not through all the rhymes that time could chime.

And as my celebrity succeeds your integrity
- Your heart, your soul! I heard you cry aloud! -
As my fame and fortune triumphs your most opportune moment
I see you glare, like a star,
Not like the star I am but like the plane of water far,
Far beyond the mirage of your deepest lairs.

Born in jealousy, empty of triumph.
Now, Knowing in the alignment of your empty tears.

And like a star you hit me, sucked me, blew me up
Like a gimmick any random jack could mimick
Like Magic, You pulled the trigger,
and you leave My body composed, loved, adored
Yet my soul and heart forever disfigured.
Forever at your idle whim disposed.

And I am HERE:

Guessed where yet??? I gotta tell ya, I just looooove THE APPLE!! It's cool, swish, swanky, dirty, melifulous in a kinda avant garde way ... and it smells of goddamn MONEY! This is the place you come to realize your dreams, the place where money smells like sugar cane (in Los Angeles, money smells more like a car exhaust, or that sanitized universal smell of a hotel penthouse bathroom). Here in New York, money smells like LOVE, boys and girls ... New York is a place to get straight, get clean, get wrecked, get rich, get laid, get lucky, get happy! And in one way or another, I'm kinda doing all those things at once! New York is also the kind of place where you can grab a moment - even the briefest moment in time - of sanity, of peace ... that's unlike L.A., too. Art is everywhere, in the most unlikely of places like here:

Speaking of art ... they asked me if I wanna do this new broadway show today. I just don't know ... it's like I have this reality show thing in the works, plus the romcom, plus the album, plus a load of my other sideline ventures (as a celeb sideline ventures are a MUST HAVE, profitable or not, sort of like a lil pooch dog and a Prada bag)!

Anyways, this broadway show ... so yeah, this producer got really aggressive when I told him the above (what i just told you):

PRODUCER: When ARE you going to take yourself seriously, and start becoming a real actress, instead of fucking around with all the bullshit that you've been doing in the last few years. Look at name removed, she totally dried up because she refused to do the Woody Allen two years back ... and now she can't get hired FUCKING ANYWHERE in Hollywood. Baby, Bollywood won't even take ya' if ya' don't start takin' yourself seriously ...

ME: And how the hell does a broadway show make me more credible as an actress?? It's not like I'm gonna be Woody Allen's leadin' lady any time soon, doll -

PRODUCER - Broaaaaaaawdwaaaaay, DOLL, is serious theater. Next to London, it says: (waving his arms in the air like a circus money on speed) HEY WORLD! I CAN ACT!! I'M NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE WHO CAN TURN A TEEN FLICK ONCE A DECADE -

ME: Naaah - broadway says, HEY WORLD, I'M TRYING MY HARDEST TO BE CREDIBLE AS AN ACTRESS -

PRODUCER: Exactly!! Exactly!! And ya' do this, and we'll give ya' 10% of the rights and tha' leadin' part for the Hollywood production -

ME: You mean, there's a movie too?

PRODUCER: Honey, what d'ya take me for? A dego cocksucker? The SHOW is about launching the movie in a year - getting it a place among the culture scene. Then we'll clean up on the movie ... you'll be the leading lady, and ya'll get 10% of the rights? Ya hot right now, honey, smoke it while ya' still there ...

I told him in the end I'd call him back. I love New York. Unlike the common myth however, it does go to sleep. Between like, 4 and 5 am. But the money, the goddamn MONEY ... THAT RULES!

I Love You All, Really,

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'

This post is about ... well, this blog, and my relationship to and history with Kennysia. Since there is an international audience, I'll have to do some explaining as to who Kennysia is etc.,etc. I'm writing about this because I get SO many questions as to HOW THE HELL I know Kennysia, why I have soooo many Asian readers, and what the hell that means!! They sort of look like this latest one, from my previous post:

Because u keep mentioning kennysia in ur entries, i keep reading and reading ur past entries trying to figure what the f**k does kenny have to do with you ... But because its kennysia u keep mentioning, he is so influential in malaysia and all, and i have come to believe that just maybe u might be an A-list celeb ... i'm just curious why the hardcore selling of Kennysia.

Okay, let's start at the beginning. Those who have followed this blog since it first began, will know that my first post was on January 19, 2006, at some point in the afternoon. I remember doing that post, because I actually began it the night before, and came back to it later the following afternoon to put it up. It seemed fun, exciting, sexual in a way ... in the performance way, I mean.

Anyway, as soon as I published the post, pretty much directly after, someone (I honestly have no idea who) published the post on Digg, Reddit, and a lot of the other various news and blog forums! I'm not sure if you remember, but in those days those sites used to be much simpler in format - there was one page for submissions, and then one front page; there were no categories or any of the fancy shit that fucks them up and renders them pretty much meaningless today. In those days, a lot - I mean a hell of a LOT of attention could be drawn to the smallest, and humblest of things ... like this blog!

It's just my guess, but I think it is there that Kennysia must have first spotted me, because sooner or later I noticed a lot of regular hits coming to this blog, since Kenny had added me to his blogroll. Now, for those who don't know who Kennysia is: in a nutshell, he's Malaysia's biggest blogger. Correct me if I'm wrong, My Asian Darlings, but a piece of information for those from the U.S., Europe or Australia: in Asia, some bloggers are literally like pop stars to us here in the U.S. They really have achieved a national level of fame, in no small quantity. Therefore, it was a quite a big, big deal being picked up by Kenny and added to his blogroll.

The honest truth is, I never in a million years expected this thing to become anywhere near the size it is today. Okay, I may play the act and walk the walk - I've been trained to, all my life, after all - but I always envisaged this blog as some private joke between me, a couple friends, and maybe an old guy or two in the mountains somewhere plugging in late at night. Kenny put me on the platform ... Kenny gave me the crown.

Still Reading? Good ... there is more. I apologize if any of this is a little stream-of-consciousness, but I'm just trying to lay out the story as best I can for all of you.

The story with this blog, and with Kenny, is sort of a bit like my life, when I sit down to think about it. You know, I always wanted success (doesn't everybody?) but I don't think I went out there to get it any cost; I mean, I don't think success - or rather, celebrity - was ever the end goal. Having a good time was, definitely, making friends, maybe ... but most of all, doing something I enjoyed doing, that I found personally rewarding ... that was the juice, the buzz, the point. My point is, throughout my life I have randomly been rewarded with lots of Kennysias ... and I guess that's why I am where I am, really. Does that make sense? For every one of those Kenny's - the actual Kenny included - I owe so much, and am so grateful, you do not know.

Soo ... naturally, I began reading Kenny's blog, writing to him occasionally just to say Hi! He's a very cool guy, an upstanding, classy guy. So, that's where I found out about Xiaxue (a Singaporean bitch who blogs admittedly entertaining material). And that kind of led me into blogging, I guess. It was the Asian blogging scene ... I guess part of me identified with it real well to be honest, since as I say, over in Malaysia and Singapore, and Hong Kong and Japan and Thailand ... star bloggers are NATIONAL STARS, exactly pretty much what I am in my own country (okay, and admittedly the fuckin' world over).

Thanks for reading, guys ... you make blogging a pleasurable pastime.

I Love You All, Really ...

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'