I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

The red carpet

The rich and famous have multiple excuses to walk the red carpet. Whether it’s for a movie premiere, or an awards ceremony, they’re always there, making their presence known.

There’s something in the air whenever the red carpet comes out. Magic. Your favourite celebrity exits their limo, stops for autographs, poses for photographers, and answers questions from reporters. All the while, their designer-clad feet never touch the harsh concrete because they’re resting on a plush ground.

Only celebrities (and their handlers) are able to do this. It’s an exclusive club, and very few people are asked to join - segregation of the new millennium.

The only way to sidestep this form of exclusivity is to create your own club. And, I've found a place that allows anyone to join.


While walking through one of my favourite department stores, I am bombarded by the perfume aisle. Rows upon rows of women (and a few men), waiting for someone to pass by, spritzing them in the eye with the newest scent, and while temporarily blinding a consumer, extolling the virtues of a light top note of gardenia and a bottom note of exotic water lily.

Before this happens, I make a right and a left and cut through the cosmetics section to avoid them. Right there, there’s a red carpet, 100 feet long, stretching from where I stand to the entrance of the mall. A personal invitation to join the exclusive club.

Within seconds, I am walking the red carpet.

Strutting with confidence - direct eye contact, shoulders back, arms at my sides, a slight bounce in my step, and a bit of attitude - all attention is on me. My clothes are the latest designer looks. Pausing every 10 feet, I strike a pose for the photographers in the stands to take my photo. People scream out my name as I wave to them. The perennially perky Mary Hart asks me how I feel at this moment, and I tell her, Incredible.

As I approach the end, my dream dissipates into the air like the scent of perfume a few feet away.

With one last turn, I look back at the start of the carpet and wish this time could last longer. It doesn’t. I have to move on. My time on the red carpet ends as I walk into the mall.

Note: After posting this, I realized this is my year-and-a-half blogoversary. Scary, huh? I'm sorry for torturing my eight readers for such a long time.


Blogger savante said...

HIlarious darlin! Glad you had your chance on the red carpet to celebrate your blogoversary! :P


August 10, 2006 5:31 am  
Blogger Kevin said...

Umm, I think that's just for wiping your feet. That's why it says WELCOME on it. I have one at my front door too.

Happy Bloggoversary.

August 10, 2006 8:39 am  
Blogger tornwordo said...

I'm trying to imagine you striking a pose...... Happy year and a half doll!

August 10, 2006 9:02 am  
Anonymous aaron said...

I've mocked-up something so you can be on the red carpet all the time:


August 10, 2006 11:29 am  
Blogger Steven said...

Savante: Thank you.

Six: The one I use to wipe my feet is gray (hides the dirt better).

Torn: Does sucking in your stomach count as striking a pose?


If blogger wasn't being such a bitch to me, I'd post the photo.

Please, check the link for a good laugh (or a moderate chuckle).

August 10, 2006 11:54 am  
Blogger Katrocket said...

Hi - Aaron's Flickr link brought me here. You're hilarious- You write comedy so well! I've really enjoyed your blog so I'll be back to read more ...

August 10, 2006 12:15 pm  
Blogger Kevin said...

No, I prefer red. That way I can wipe the blood from my feet of all the little people I've trampled to achieve such great heights before entering my mansion.

August 10, 2006 3:08 pm  
Blogger Lewis said...

I can almost hear the crowds, the cheering, the roar, and the laughter....you are too much!
Love those shoes.....

April 09, 2007 5:14 pm  
Blogger Eric said...

Happy Blogoverserarium! Here's to many more.

April 10, 2007 9:06 am  

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