If I Were a Celebrity!

Funky self-portrait, soon to be iconic celebutante!

A recent read of fluff on Yahoo! revealed the latest not-so-secret dieting tips from a Sports Illustrated cover model who is also starring in a movie for the first time. Another article dissected the celebrity fragrance market. Finally, I heard from Dave that the aunt of an Olympic gymnast he knows will be walking the red carpet at the MTV Music Awards.

The lesson I guess is that fame is fleeting and in today's world, the PR machine for those in the spotlight is set towards making the famous a threat in as many avenues as possible. Why - maybe it's a money grab, maybe it's trying as much as they can to see what sticks, maybe it's a way to prolong the celebrity's popularity as long as possible.

Successful example of how that works: Beyonce with Destiny's Child begat Beyonce the actress, begat Beyonce the solo artist, begat Beyonce the clothing designer, begat Beyonce the perfume mogul.

Fail example: Snooki the reality star begat Snooki the author begat Snooki the perfume mogul.

So in honor of Labor Day, cue the dream sequencer's foggy fade out and Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver", because if I were a celebrity...

Famous because: confessional blog turns into funny memoir which become "it" chick lit, which becomes summer must-see chick flick. I cameo in movie as wise-cracking pop art street painter.

Noted for: crazy hair, thrift store shopping becomes a craze, adult skating becomes the new "in" exercise.
Woo hoo!: cover of Rolling Stone ("Mom-olution" looking adorably harried with Will at Chuck E. Cheese wearing a Heart concert t-shirt while Dave plays a claw machine in a Rush tee) and Glamour (laughing in couture cobalt blue gown while eating chocolate) the same month.

Celebrity hanger-ons: Madonna, for a while, citing the Michigan connection. Andrew Zimmern, Bizzare Foods host, over love of peppers. Nicki Minaj, on a dare. Rush, for Dave of course but an opportunity to tell Alex Lifeson I've had a lifelong crush on him. The Detroit Tigers. Various figure skaters. Rock stars. You know.

Adding time to my 15 minutes: media discovers my forays into pop art. I get a guest column in Rolling Stone and SPIN on how to be a rocking cool mom, of course getting a few things deliberately wrong. Celebrity hot sauce, featuring tomato, jalapeno and smoke. Celebrity fragrance, a musky jasmine with a hint of green apple. Couple other books on the 80s, rock concerts and sports from the female POV. Will gets a guest spot on Yo Gabba Gabba and the cover of Nick magazine.

Backlash: Widely criticized by frat boy magazines like MAXIM for making the female mid-life crisis funny and popular "want to be the girl with the most cake? Here's your mom jeans, now shut up!" Vogue snarks on flea-market fashion, I make worst-dressed list. Ex-boyfriends hit the tabolids with "that's not how it happened" stories. PR disaster proudly declaring love for the Tigers during a Yankees broadcast on ESPN.

Last gasp: Skating with Celebrities. My celebrity partner is Ryan Bradley, and our broadcast eyeroll and me telling a Real Housewife to get real dooms us to third.

To obscurity! A failed potato chip endorsement contract, I cite fatigue and the wish to spend more time at home with Will and Dave. I'm doomed to guest appearances on WOOD-TV news spots and local celebrity fundraisers.