The Lifestyle

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have finally arrived. Fame is a funny thing like that. One day no one knows who you are, the next day you open the mailbox to find a letter addressed to you from the Beverly Hills Country Club asking if you would like to receive even more information about the Beverly Hills Country Club.

I'm not at liberty to reprint the entire letter, I wouldn't want to jeopardize the chances of my receiving further mailings from BHCC, but here is a little taste of the good life: "Beverly Hills Country Club is not for every one nor every family. If it were, it would not be a privilege to belong. Membership to our fine club is exclusive (their italics), but not exclusionary, and is by invitation. As you would expect, membership is limited. We invite you to get to know us and to allow us the same privilege."

Just a glance down the names on the Board of Governors on the left hand side of the letter gives an idea of the exclusiveness of the club I’ve been invited to inquire further details about-- Buzz Aldrin, Chris Carter, Barbara Eden, George Hamilton, Merv Griffin, Dr. Phil McGraw, Mathew Perry, Tom Selleck, and the list goes on. If you squint a little bit, chairman Gene Axelrod’s signature at the bottom of the letter almost looks like it was signed by hand.

I have to admit, my rise to fame took awhile. It started in fourth grade when I got my arm stuck in the back of my chair mid-class, a story oft repeated in Westville Elementary school lore. It culminated with my brief appearance in the background of a paparazzi video:
http://x17video.com/celebrity_video/eva_longoria/x17_xclusive_eva_longoria.php (That’s me behind the desk. But, of course, you already knew that.)

Now that I’m famous, I’m going to have to make some changes. Camille and I are breaking up, both for the free tabloid publicity, and so that I can date someone a little more famousy. I’m moving to the new paparazzi-proof hi-rise apartments they are building in Westwood. I’m also getting a publicist and personal assistant for my dog, Henry.

By the way, Wolfgang Puck, I hope you’ve been practicing your backhand!

Of course fame isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’m very lonely in my ivory tower of privilege and power. I’ve become addicted to the idea of caviar and lobster. For like every meal. Do you know what that does to your digestive system? Of course you don’t. You aren’t receiving bulk correspondence from the 90210.

So be prepared for a phone call Ms. Doreen Nesher, unspecified employee of the Beverly Hills Country Club, because I’m going to be calling and discussing this letter I have received and brightening your day with the shiny, ever-glowing privilege of getting to know more about me.