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So … here goes. My first post. Ever. Ever … ever! This is exciting. I’m a celebrity and I’m anonymous, and I get to tell you all about the life of being a celebrity while remaining totally, uncontrollably, utterly anonymous! So how did it happen? I hear you ask. Who are you anyway? Are you really a … celebrity? Or just one of those Z-listed afternoon talk show hosts who got a ninth place in 2004 Idol?

The answer is … I’m a celebrity. An “A” list. A Hollywood-list star dammit! HUGE! HUUUUUUUUUGGGEEEEE! Hear that? You KNOW ME! In fact, about 25% of you have probably known me all your life. You’ve never known a life without me. (And I have a Hollywood-acquired ego to go with it but I also have a sweet side too which I’m sure you’ll see). Why do I tell you this if I’m remaining anonymous? Well … that’s where this story starts …

Two days ago, at about ten thirty in the morning, in a major American city (you don’t think I’m going to actually tell you which one do you – I’m anonymous, remember?!) I went to see my psychiatrist (OK, shrink, if you prefer) as usual. All aranged, nothing out of the ordinary, just a usual shrink visit. I’m accustomed to seeing a shrink (I’ve seen one since I was eight … piece of advice – if you want to become famous, get one, fast. It’s the FIRST thing you should think about doing. Because you’re REALLY going to need it). And I’m moaning and moaning and moaning (celebrities are never this honest, but I get to be, because I’m anonymous) about how life sucks and about how I wish I had more fulfilment – I don’t have a steady boyfriend (OK, that part you can know – I’m a GIRRRRRL) – and I’m sooooooo tired of all the parties and the fake “Yoooooo look soooooooo greatttttttss tonight’s”, “Did Donna giiiiiiveee you that dreesssssss???????” Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ughrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

And my shrink says: look, write a diary (she’s always saying, look, write a diary, each time as if it were the first most original idea she had ever had). And I said – as I ALWAYS do – I don’t WANT to write a diary dammit!!!!! No ones going to fucking read it! And I crave attention! It’s why I’m so fucking good at what I do! (Adult content, sorry ‘bout that, but just for the record, in “real life” I swear a lot more than that. I swear all-the-fucking-time, except when I’m-on-fucking-public-because-my-fucking-PR-Guru (A WHOLE LOT MORE ON HER TOO) says-I-can’t-fucking’say-the-word-F-U-C-K. Well here, it feels good, soooooooo good to say it in public: F-U-C-K. Ugh. FUCK that feels so good!)

Breathe. Breathe … breathe … OK, better. And so, my shrink suggests, with a twinkle in her eye; that twinkle that tells me I-have-an-idea-you-don’t, a twinkle I LOVE but which comes far too infrequently because it’s the whole reason I go to therapy in the first place: write a Blog. The following is a transcript of what followed):

ME: What? What’ a blug?

SHRINK: An online journal, an …

ME: Oh yeah … I know, like “blog”. Isn’t that for geeks?

SHRINK: It’s for anyone …

ME: Well, I’m not anyone. Jesus, name removed, what are you THINKING? THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD’S GONNA READ IT if I write a Blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s hardly a personal diary then …

SHRINK (laughing): Write it, as an anonymous celebrity. Don’t tell anyone who you are, just write it. (Pause … very long pause, the sort of pause that takes place before you French kiss your first boy/girl for the first time but when your lips are so close and your eyes are so wet and hungry that you know you’re going to). Write about your life. I’ll set it up for you. And you can just write.

ME: (After an even longer pause) OK, OK, I like the idea. I’ll set it up though. (I am eager to prove I am able to handle such feats of technological significance).But what could I say? I mean, everyone will know who I am if I say, last night, when I was smooching with name removed and secretly fantasising over last weeks sex with name removed … isn’t it a bit obvious?

SHRINK: So remove the names.

ME: Okayyyyy … so … when I went to xyz party with abc and went home with efg … that doesn’t sound too exciting.

SHRINK: NO! Don’t just write what you did. Write what you feel. It’s more important. And more interesting. No one wants to know what you did – they can read all that in the Post.

ME: Every fucking day they can!

SHRINK: (Concentrating, wary not let me get off-track) So … you gonna do it?

ME: Hmmmm. Sure. Why the fuck not. Name removed (PR GURU – let’s think up a name for her together shall we: e-mail me/post comments on suggestions – p.s. I don’t like her) will throw a major fit but OKAY, I’ll do it. Done, done, done. What should I call it?

SHRINK: Anonymous Celebrity.

ME: Hmmmmm … (She said that so quickly and matter-of-factly I suspect she had thought the whole thing up before I got here). But what if no one believes it? What if they say … this isn’t a celebrity … blah, blah, blah. Or what if someone finds out it’s me?

SHRINK: You’re always the one saying you want more excitement. More of a challenge. I’m just trying to help.

ME: (After very much consideration) You’re right. I’ll do it. Let’s see where it goes.

And that’s where this blog began. That’s why I’m anonymous. But I’ve been thinking. I mean, I really want something to come out of this. Something good. So here are the rules:

1. DO NOT ask me what I do/who I am/what I look like/where I live. I obviously won’t tell you. I may disclose more as this takes off, but just let me do that at my own pace, OKAY? But DO feel free to ask how to become famous, tips for places/parties to get seen, how to pick up agents/managers/sponsors (for any industry). These are questions I will answer gladly.
2. DO ask me how I feel and DO be nice. I get enough shit from the media without more shit from people and not enough shit about HOW AM I? (Not the kind of party-going “Ohhhhhhh, how arrrrrreeeeee yooooooooo?” but a real “I care about you and want to know how you are”).
3. Since the one thing you know about me is that I am a lady, treat me like a lady.
4. Ok, this isn’t a RULE more than me being fair and giving you another bit of crucial info – because I DO want you to enjoy this: I’m in my twenties.

OK, Can’t really think of any more rules. Now, how about we start to get to know one another? I thought for the first post everyone could respond (by e-mail or in the comments section) about how they feel about life/what they want to be (secretly), that kind of stuff. In turn, I will tell you how I feel right here, right now. I will tell you what I tell my shrink. You, my darlings, ARE my new shrinks!

I feel … exhausted. Not depressed exactly, but that moment close to depressed that I guess you feel when you’ve been lacking in any kind of real, meaningful purpose for some time. Thing is, I’m content. But it’s just that. I’m not over-the-moon or anything, just content. And I don’t like being content. Work has been treating me tough. I feel exhausted every day I get home, every morning I get up. Every time I have to go to another party I feel that sense of further exhaustion, wearing me down, making me tireder, making me more stupefied by the first principles of humanity.

I need recognition. I know this sounds selfish/egoistic/megalomaniac from a girl who is known by more than 1 billion people (last official press count) but it’s true. I really, really, really, really, really, really REALLY need someone just to tell me how well I’m doing. We ALL need that … (come one, we all need that).

Last night I put on my top and my panties (sex sells, so I guess I’ll give you some) and you know what I did after I brushed my teeth? I held onto my teddy bear (it’s life size). And right there, there in my bedroom, in my bed, then, looking into the teddy’s little snout, cuddling its fur close to me, I wanted to make love to it, such was the emotional longing to be recognized. I wanted to BE MADE LOVE TO, I have four quite brilliant lovers I could call right now, but NONE of them make me feel fucking recognized. So I got up, lit a cigarette (I smoke in private – here’s another bit of inside information: EVERY FUCKING CELEBRITY SMOKES. YOU DON’T SEE IT, BUT THEY DO) and went out onto my balcony. Then I had a glass of wine and admired the view (I have one of the most amazing views in the world) and went to sleep.

That’s me. That’s my life. This is how I feel. This is how I fall asleep when my phone’s not ringing and waking me up at random hours every morning. So I want this blog to give me a sense of recognition I guess. I want it to make the teddy bear become the first boy I ever feel in love with, bring him into my life, and open up the world to make it the exciting, exhilarating, fulfilling place it was when I first started out. I have always been rich enough, I don’t have to complain about money. But emotions … emotions are my hardest problem in life. I battle them, I fight them. I wrestle them.

And I must go for now. I love you all, really.

Your Anonymous Celebrity ‘x’