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I believe I may have embarrassed myself yet again at another blog event/event where bloggers attended/the type of event I shall probably never get invited to attend in the future.

Last night was the official launching of the Krispy Kreme Greenhills branch and since my sister Marielle and I are whores who will do anything for free donuts, we tagged along with our mom. I expected free food, fine wine, free donuts, good company, and a peaceful laid-back evening overall. What I didn’t expect, however, was for local celebrities to be included in the guest list.

Yeah, I fail at the open-mouthed celebrity smile.

I’m not going to be stupid and name names because I’ve gotten into trouble for bashing celebrities on my blog before. The internet is serious business like that. And even if I were in the mood for a fight I wouldn’t be able to name the celebrities I saw simply because I don’t know what their names are. I could tell they were celebrities though by the fact that they were half-white, looked anorexic, wore skimpy dresses that make my silk nighties look conservative, thick makeup, and were followed by photographers wherever they went. At that point I already consumed one glass of wine and was starting to make cracks about them. Like, “What fuck are they doing at a Krispy Kreme event? They’re just going to throw up all those free donuts anyway.” Marielle joined in the celebrity-bashing and soon we were shamelessly camwhoring and having this nice discussion about how she’d be a celebrity and I’d be her manager-slash-the person who has to stick a finger down her throat after every meal. To my horror, the celebrities decided to occupy the table next to us while my mouth still had a life of its own. I couldn’t shut up. I can’t remember exactly what I was saying but I’m sure that I was being really snarky and really loud. Even Gail was starting to look really embarrassed about sitting at the same table as me.

This is why I’ve scratched off public relations from the List of Career Options To Explore Over the Next Ten Years. Once I get all riled up about something, there’s no stopping me until I run out of steam or get punched in the face.

Obviously I was celebrity-bashing because I hate them and I envy them for how easy their lives are. All you have to do is be born half-white with half a brain (maybe not even) and BAM–you’re a star. You get invited to go everywhere, dress up, look pretty, and smile for the camera please. I hate it when people are just born with something, like money or good looks, and then use that to get on top instead of working their asses off. Oh, I’m sure attending all those events, photo-shoots, and parties must get really exhausting after a while. But there’s still something unbalanced about the whole equation. I met a couple of people who spent years working at a certain TV station as writers, and even after they spent nights sleeping at the office because they had that much work to do, they got the same chicken shit pay for years. Whereas celebrities get paid shitloads of money to wave at their fans and attend events. Yeah, there’s something very wrong there. It’s people like us who churn out the lines they deliver on the primetime soaps, and the only thanks we receive is to get taken for granted because we’re not half-white with legs up to our armpits.

God help me if I end up in the same room with wine and a celebrity ever again.

To make matters worse, my mom and Marielle spotted this guy I used to date/be friends with way before he started appearing on glossy magazines in his tightie-whities. Mom and sis kept poking me like barbecue on a stick, egging me on to say hi to him. I was so embarrassed at how loud they were being that I would have crawled under the table if it weren’t so fucking crowded. I highly doubt he still remembers who I am and that we once used to exchange really long sentences. Besides, I have pride. I’m certainly not about to stroke his celebrity ego by approaching him and saying something really retarded like, “Oh hey, Famous Male Celebrity. Remember me? Yeah, it’s me Lauren. No no, not Laura. Lauren. We used to be friends, some years back? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not approaching you right now because you’re the hottest stud in Manila and I could always use a contact in the entertainment industry. It’s not like that at all. I just happened to remember all the good times we had, chatting on AIM, walking around UP late at night and stuff, and when I saw you here I was hoping we could relive that all even though you’re now famous and constantly surrounded by women ten times more gorgeous than I could ever be. That’s all, kthxbye!”

There is a very thick line separating writers from celebrities, old love interests from the new ones, and normal people from famous people. I don’t intend to cross that line at all.

And I solemnly swear to behave like a proper young lady the next time I encounter a celebrity. Just don’t give me any wine.