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Saturday, 6 June 2015

How to become famous

I never wanted to be famous, never dreamt to be on the cover of every magazine or social media network. Never wanted to be talked and gossiped about, nor to be easily recognised when I do my grocery shoppings. Let's be honest. I am not a celebrity just because my wish was God's command. The truth is that I am just average...and that's fine. But in my ordinary existence I still tend to reach for the stars, my shinny ones, to achieve excellence if not perfection and to do my best for me and my peeps. And just because this is normality in my reality, I kind of have the desire that other average people, just like me, to understand their status and get the fact that celebrity is not for everybody. It used to be for genius minds, the ones that were able to wake up in the middle of the night with a complicated mathematical formula that changed the whole science. It also used to be for unreal voices, unbelievable talented artists, people with developed  sixth sense, for warriors and worriers. Those were the people everybody wanted to know everything about. Not anymore. These days mediocrity defines celebrity. Let me just justify myself. 

On Saturdays I usually have the "privilege" of watching TV. There are all sorts of famous people least that's what the broadcasters push us to believe. Let's see what's on entertainment channels. I applaud courage and I am thrilled when one decides to change  look and gender if this is what it makes him happy. I really am. But from there to hearing every minute why that person has done it, how he decided what name to adopt, when he had the first sign of wanting a new look is a whole new story. On top of that who cares what every member of the family declares on every single social media network? I am not judgemental, I have a really open mind, but I believe that one doesn't deserve so much attention if he comes from a socialite family. I am the first to stand up for minorities, all sorts of, and I believe in human equality, but again I strongly disagree with making people famous for what they are not. 

But again....if I don't ant to hear more, I can change the TV channel. And I usually do. The History channel.....Hitler...morning to evening. I even call it Hitler channel now because the war is the only subject there. Then there is the Top Gear channel, the one that broadcasts the same shows all over again. And then the cooking one, where I can find out more about what famous chef what caught taking a little bit of illegals or who goes and dines with others than to learn real cooking. On the music channel....buddies, bigger and bigger with every day. Did I mentioned that they are less and less covered? All those beautiful people miming songs that have been perfectly polished in music studios. Most of them cannot sing, but they can dance...kind of and they all have legs up to their fake boobs. I sometimes wonder how and what exactly they got so famous. They are noting like Aretha Franklin, nor like Robert Plant....and they have no chance of. 

But I can switch again. On the Living one there is nothing about living really...except how other famous people sell houses to their famous buyers....who can afford Spain as well as New York. And then there is the Arts channel. I love it, I really do....not so much when so called famous artists show off their not so famous pieces. Let's be honest. These are not masterpieces. No Van Gogh or Degas between them. They are just spots of colors on a canvas or pieces of clay put together without any meaning. And if there is no antonym for masterpiece, I am willing to make one: minorpiece. This is all it is. Then they are those concerts of all sorts of who knows who they are. Just average people like me who became starts because of their belongings to five star families..... or maybe because dating a producer. Again people who cannot ever dream to be as good as the Beatles were, but who were given the opportunity to be more famous than them....if something like this exists!

And then there are our national programs, 4 or 5. I love some of the reporters and talk shows hosts, really talented professionals, who know their jobs very well. But who on earth dresses these amazingly beautiful ladies? I am no designer, but I still know that it is a no no for a  blonde statuesque TV host, with a beautiful white skin, to wear a yellow top and lots of heavy gold costume jewerly. Is like somebody decided to make her look like an egg ... on purpose. Who is the mediocre person who dresses these beautiful ladies and how did she get that job? Cos I am pretty much sure that if one has no clue how to enhance these ladies' beauties, (and believe me when I'm saying they are beautiful!), there are so many fashion designer graduates who can take her/ his job. In a second. Again, I don't judge because I have the taste of Versace...cos I don't. But I believe that the person who decides who wears what on our TV channels is trained more in fashion fiascos than in good taste. And it is a shame because once again we have so many beautiful reporters and they deserve justice.

I am not sure what is a recipe for becoming famous, but I know that it has nothing to do with talent, geniality, skills or knowledge. Not these days. One just have to get somehow on TV. No matter how. Through a reality show for example. Once there,  mime a song, use a stunt for a complicated dance, scribble something or saw a cotton sac... all depends on what are one wants to be famous in. Leave the rest on the TV broad shoulders! :)

Monday, 1 June 2015

The Devil wears....Hendrix

I listen to music all the time. All sorts of songs, different genres depending on my mood. I wake up early in the morning and my IPod starts doing what it does best: entertain me. But it's not just that I surround myself with music. It's more than that. I know music and I love music. I really do. You wouldn't expect that from a blondie, would you? I know so much music that I make my own my head. Every day a new one, depending on my mood, my work or just my pinkness. Weekends are different though because I am off and I can really enjoy the playlists my blonde brain develops. Let me just explain myself. 

Last Saturday was a kind of free day. I just had to get to the local market to help a little bit with my organic products sale. So I woke up early in an exceptional mood....and my playlist started "I'm in the mood" (John Lee Hooker). But my great state of happiness didn't last too much because my dear puppy Hendrix woke up too. "Black Dog" (Led Zeppelin). He started the day with a he usually does. I already knew the remedy: stretching his ass for a half an hour would do it. "Big balls" (AC/DC). Relaxed and happy, Hendrix played on the deck....for a second or two, then started bothering my 14 years old senior dog, Max. Nothing major, justbiting his ears, pushing him down the deck stairs, pulling his tail. "TNT" (AC/DC...again). Poor Max tried really hard to make me aware, but with age he lost his voice and hearing too. I somehow got between Hendrix and his victim and yelled on Hendrix.....but couldn't hear myself because my puppy's voice was always louder than mine....and everybody else's. "Voices" (Ozzy Osbourne). I looked at the clock and realised that, in order to get in time to the market, I needed to quickly feed the dogs...those two and Neo, another one that stayed nicely in the kennel...not that he chose to...a chain stopped him reach me. But nothing was ever able to stop him barking. Anyway, I somehow fed the dogs, except Hendrix of course. He needed to be breastfed...kind of. Hendrix doesn't know how to eat, but he would gladly take food from my hand. "Naughty Boy" (Sam Smith). Once everybody happy, I ran to the shower, then quickly buttered some bread. Then I turned for a second....and turned back just in time to catch Hendrix swallowing my sandwiches. "Hungry Like The Wolf" (Duran Duran). So I made myself other sandwiches and hide them in the pantry. 

Just about to leave the house when I realised that I haven't fed the chickens...6 of them. So I ran to their area, threw some grains, came back in the house and changed my shoes because the grass was wet...and too long. "Changes" (Tupac). Oops, the birds had no water, so back in the garden and another shoes change. In the meantime, Hendrix decided to get intellectual and write an essay on only God knows what....but he got bored.....after destroying my special pen...and another one. "Pieces" (Ella Henderson). I sent Hendrix outside and just about to leave (again) when I remembered that I haven't fed my 16 years old blind cat, Mr King. I somehow found him, fed him, and put him together with my other cat, the wild Miss Lily. "In Good Company" (Kiss). Then I tried very hard to remember where I hidden my sandwiches. I finally found them.  "Mad Wold" (Gary Jules). I put my hat on...and took it off because Hendrix got to it earlier and made some crafty holes in it. Changed it for a red beret and with my keys in my hand left the house. Or wanted to, because Hendrix was faster than me and jumped over his fence....three times in  row. "Trouble" (Ray Lamontagne). I checked the fence. It was broken, so the only thing to do was to take Hendrix with me....which he knew it would happen if he tried really hard to make my morning hell. I found his leash and with Hendrix pulling me hard I got to my car. I pushed his ass in it and started the engine....while Hendrix tried very hard to get into the driver's seat. I mean mine. Maybe he wanted to drive...for a change. "Drive My Car" (Beatles). 

Anyway, the rest of my Saturday was just great. With Hendrix trying to make it ever greater....his style. So my playlist went on and on with "Redemption Song" (Bob Marley) ....  in my head. That and "Cry" (Janis Joplin). Did I mention "Chain of Fools" (Aretha Franklin)? But let me say it loud: Hendrix colors my days and I love him....just because I have "Sympathy For The Devil" (Rolling Stones). :)

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