Axl Rose used to be a nobody. Just a young kid looking for a good time, he started a nothing little rock band, hoping to score some girls and have some fun. Fast forward a few years and he was a huge star, a household name. Women were falling all over themselves for a chance at him. He was filthy rich, gorgeous, on top of the world. But then it all dried up. He blew all his money on drugs and booze, turned into a world class a-hole that no band could get along with. Now where is he? Probably crashing on some hooker's couch, digging through ashtrays in dive bars looking for cigarette butts, trying to remember at least some portion of that decade-long blackout he drifted through in the 80s.
That could be me someday. See, I've been nominated for a Best of Blogs Award. Sounds neat, right? Who wouldn't want to win an award? Well, I've got news for you: This is how it started with Axl Rose. He had his little band, he was having fun playing in the local bars and partying with the local groupies. Life was good. Then he started getting some recognition, playing bigger arenas, winning awards, til eventually he was catapulted to the highest pinnacle of stardom. That's the curse, people--stardom. It made him into a junkie, a drunk, a total prick. In the days since, he has managed to pummel his liver to a fine puree, pick off his brain cells one by one like ducks in a shooting gallery. He probably shoplifts his underwear from Goodwill now.
Is he lucky to at least have lived the glamorous life for the short time he did? Hell no! If stardom had left him alone, he'd probably have led a life of quiet mediocrity, happy enough with his little circle of friends and family. He'd have sang in his local band for a few years, then settled down with a normal job and an average nice girl. He wouldn't be where he is now, which I think we can all assume is curled up in the fetal position next to a Jack in the Box dumpster, sleeping off the fifth of cheap whiskey he drank this morning and waiting for the night shift to throw out the burgers that have sat too long under the heat lamp.
I may be just an average nobody, but I like my life. I have friends, a house, a family. I may not have all the things I want, but I have everything I need. I don't want to end up a sad tale of woe on an episode of True Hollywood Story. I can see it now: It starts innocently enough with a Best of Blogs award. Next thing you know, I'm hobnobbing with Paris Hilton, engaged to Colin Farrell. I'm photographed and interviewed at every twist and turn. Soon, rumors begin circulating that I'm immersing myself too much in the Hollywood club scene. The tabloids publish shocking photos of me passed out topless in the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel after a week-long coke binge with Michael Irvin and Pam Anderson. In an attempt to reclaim my former good-girl image, I enter rehab and write a children's book. But soon enough I'm shooting smack with Scott Weiland and going overboard on plastic surgery procedures. A scandalous home video of my sexual escapades with 50 Cent is released without my permission at about the same time my Beverly Hills mansion goes into foreclosure. Anorexia turns me into a skeletal shell of my former self, and not even a very public romance with Ellen Degeneres can salvage my career. Soon, even OJ won't be seen having dinner with me. My husband and son, abandoned by me long ago when my star was rising, have no sympathy for me now that it's all come crashing down and I've called them begging for forgiveness and a small loan.
Think I'm being dramatic? It can happen. Look at poor Axl. And if it does happen, won't it be kind of neat to be able to say you knew me back when I first started up my silly little blog, back when I was a nobody? They might even interview you for my True Hollywood Story. You can tell them what a shame it is to see how low I've sunk, and how witty and clever I used to be before the prescription painkillers got the best of me. You can tell them how you used to read my blog faithfully, before I became empty and hollow and vain, and pissed away every good thing that came my way, finally ending up a tabloid joke.
If you'd like to ensure that you have that opportunity to say you knew me when, then by all means, vote for me for Most Humorous Blog. I don't know how long voting will remain open, all I know is begins on the 10th of January. And I may not even make it that far--right now I'm just nominated (thanks, Jason, Melissa and Ally) along with lots of bloggers who couldn't possibly be as funny as me. The list will be trimmed down to 10 bloggers in each category before the voting starts. Considering the judges (whose votes will weigh more heavily than those of you mere mortals) are probably not high and drunk like my regular readers, I may not be as funny in their eyes. But as the diplomatic losers are obligated to say, it's an honor just to be nominated. Or something.